Recently I got to rehash this subject on a gift of a 2 hr+ drive alone with just-turned-20 first child [Aside: who took my baby and left this adult in her place?].
I was dropping first-child off at Y-Camp so that she can spend the remainder of her summer (in lieu of getting a job at which she could make actual money—'cause what are parents for) doing, as cliché as it may sound, a job she loves. Said job (for which first-child has somehow managed to write her own job description—something to do with the unforeseen benefit of being paid $200 a week for a 164 hr work week) being that of sailing instructor slash canoe-trip trail leader slash impart-er of wisdom to young teens, and especially to young girls. The "imparting of wisdom" involves a good deal of tossing out of make-up and inappropriate clothing, confiscating of electronic equipment, and provision of general "stop whining and get over yourself " advice. I should mention that this is a child who could pretty much live outdoors 24/7 and was seemingly raised by wolves (rather than by the geeky, citified people who are her parents).
That I have a daughter this level-headed and wise and resourceful is a constant source of amazement to me, 'though secretly I take just a little comfort in the fact that in "real life" she lives with seven other "students" in a house affectionately dubbed "the lab."
[You know mom, like labyrinth. Yeah hon, remember me, they made a movie about my generation: Wayne`s World. (As first-child is super cool, I am careful not to let on that I was not, that I, in fact, was on the high-school math team, spent most days playing pick-up football after school with the guys, and, in college, shared a place with just one roommate (and that seemed one too much). About the closest my friends and I ever got to a Wayne's World like experience was driving around in my 1969 Pontiac Parisienne singing Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of our lungs without the benefit of any mind altering substances 'cause we could just be that stupid without pharmaceutical assistance.)]
First child's rooming situation is one in which (due to her generation's hippie-like friends w/benefits I-don't-want-to-know (denial being a very effective and time-tested parenting technique) lifestyle, none of said roommates are actually boyfriend and girlfriend (not sure why I think this is comforting). More alarmingly, pretty much every person I run into that is anywhere close to first-child's age seems to have been to/partied at/slept over at said "lab".)
Anyway, the best thing about this little road trip was that first child and I got to talk blissfully uninterrupted. Actually, she got to speak and I got to listen—which made it even better. First-child wise-one's main concern seems to be that guys are getting the proverbial short-end of the stick these days—basically being emasculated, last hired, first blamed, etc. etc. and forever admonished for thinking/acting/being. According to first-child (and statistics seem to prove she is correct), boys are being left in the dust. I have to say I agree and the demeaning of boys makes me sad and angry.
Despite my own endless whining about how it sucks to be a girl (and said sucking, I think, pertains mostly to girls over 40), it has taken us a good deal of hard-won battles to get to where we are and the last thing we should be doing is oppressing yet another group based on anything, including gender. The pendulum has swung much too far and is in need of a correction in order to rest somewhere acceptable.
So boys unite. Take back your rights. Your (girl)friends believe in you.
And, oh yeah, in the meantime, can someone teach me how to pee standing up?
Image from The Woman's Guide to Peeing Standing Up
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