Lessons on Being Kick-Ass.

I was raised by awesomely independent, kick ass, talented, smart women. My aunts Liz and Vicki, my MawMaw, and my mom, raised me from a wee bairn to be strong and confident in myself. Though my appearance and other aspects of my personality drove me to feel very self-conscious, and experience a lot of self-hate, detriment, and other wickedly bad ways to feel, I always knew I had life skills necessary to succeed in whatever I chose to do in whichever field I chose to do it in. (which is a very good thing, as I like variety)

My aunts are both ridiculously successful in their fields, as is my mother. My aunt is the right hand woman (or as I like to refer to her “life arranger”) of a giant food company, my other aunt trudges through the muck and mire of bureaucratic asscandles, the uninformed, and negative public policy to make sure women get the care they need and deserve at Planned Parenthood, and if you need your Emergency Department to go from a hot mess to a lauded environment with ridiculously good Press Ganey scores? My mom is your lady, and? Everyone loves them. That’s damned hard to do when your in a position of power.

Don’t get me wrong, they aren’t women known to roll over. Hell no. In the words of Tina Fey: “bitches get stuff done”. They can pull out their inner Ruth Ginsburg when the situation warrants, but they also have amazingly gentle ways that deserve praise. They’re beautiful, iron-handled feather dusters, they’ll be gentle if they can, but sometimes you just need to break that crap and start over.

Where am I going with this? I live in a neighborhood DOMINATED by very patriarchal social structures. I love them, I really do. I love their sense of strong community and family, their deeply rooted spirituality (orthodox Jews and Buddhists, mostly), and I love the way they cherish their children. What I do not love is the way they sometimes talk to me and some of my neighbors. We are women. Why on EARTH would we work if we don’t have to? Why would we leave our babes in the care of others? How can my husband stand idly by and LET me do this? I was told today that I can be a good and successful actor or be a good mother, I can’t be good at both.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Every single mother has guilt. Whether they work, or stay at home, every one of us deals with some sort of guilt on some level. When I stayed at home, and went to school at night, I wondered if I was setting a good example. When I work, and travel for work, I pine away wondering what I am missing.

I let myself have a little pity party walking home from the bakery, red bean buns in hand for my bits. I may have cried a little, realizing how little I’d get to see the kids this upcoming week and weekend.

Then? I snapped the eff out of it. (How I yearn to TRULY use the F word there). I thought to myself,

“you know what? You don’t WANT a man who thinks your a less-than mother because you work. You REVEL in the fact that your husband is friggen proud of you, and tells you so. You straight up adore the hell out of him for supporting your educational endeavors, regardless of the fact that he knows you’ll always want to be in school in some form or fashion, you revere him for encouraging to to take every acting and comedy and writing and singing and movement class you can, knowing it will better your craft. You love it that he doesn’t even blink anymore when you quote Marlowe to a 4 year old. You praise G-d for the fact that he sees your talents on and off stage (or the pole), in and out of the classroom, and not just in the home.

You are glad that your daughter and son see you doing what you truly love to do, whether it’s working, or staying home with them, or dancing like a drunken monkey to anything on the radio. You are glad that they see how their parents make health a priority: both physical AND mental. You are glad that the kids care and love you enough to miss you, and that you’re so devoted to them that it physically pains you to leave them.

You are also glad that your kids see their parents on a 100% even playing field. Every rule that applies to one parent, applies to the other. We submit to EACH OTHER. Our opinions are valued. (except on where to go out to eat, the cop’s opinion on that falls on very deaf ears) Our love is stronger for it. (even if he is allergic to putting away his dirty socks or doing the dishes) Our kids will make better partners and parents because of it, and for that YOU.ARE.GLAD”

And then I felt better. Invigorated. Grateful for the women who taught me how to rally when I need to, and get shit done.

Call me a bitch if you want to, but I know what I’m good at, and it’s acting AND raising my kids.

Now that’s off my chest, how about some chocolate? How about some good for you, omega and antioxidant packed but you’d never know it for the taste, chocolates?

Bruleed Banana, Chia, and Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups.