Ikea Monday

    

Monday morning. It was cold and energy levels were low. We had no social plans, and things at home were already starting to get out of hand. As much as I love having help in the kitchen...

A: Nils, what do you want to do today? Library? Playspa-

N: Go to Ikea!

A: (double take) Uh, really?

N: Yeah! I want to go to Ikea!

A: (Shoulders feel lighter as I realize I don't have to say no to this) You know what, kid? Sure. Let's do it.

N. Ikea! Ikea! (jumps up and down)

I'm not sure where it comes from, but Nils loves Ikea. We go there a couple times a year, and one of those trips must have really made an impression on him. I'll give credit where credit is due too, because it's actually a pretty nice outing.

You get to ride the bus there. If you're Nils, that's a big plus.

You can eat there. The food is cheap, and the Monday-at-11:30a.m.-cafeteria is nearly empty. The views are pretty awesome, too. Statue of Liberty and lower Manhattan out one window, and a parking lot full of school buses out the other. Again, if you're Nils that school bus lot is a pretty big plus.




You can play with kids' toys and furniture. I don't think Ikea actually wants you to play with the toys and furniture in their children's department, but whatever. Eat it, Ikea. I'm out of ideas today and my daughter likes this crinkle book.



When the children's department gets old, (or crowded. Ha! You guys look exhausted too!) there's the rest of the store. You can open every closet door in every sample bedroom. You can sit on sample sofas. Touch everything. Go to town, kid. No one's here to be annoyed by your shenanigans.

Outfits Liv was wearing whilst mistaken for a boy

Three things right away:

1. When Nils was a newborn I struggled mightily with breastfeeding. Things eventually worked out and I was grateful - grateful to start out mothering with what I knew was the illusion of control. Even if it was false and I knew it was false, I wanted that illusion.

2. "Men are people and women are women. Always." That line keeps going through my head.

3. A friend and I were chatting about how much of a non-cuddler Liv is. "That's so great," said my friend. "Because the world is going to beat it into her: "be nice! You're nice!" Maybe if she's really, really tough, she'll be able to keep some of that intact."

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Liv wears a lot of gender-neutral clothing. Reds, oranges, greens, yellows. She wears nothing boyish, but I am also not in the habit of doing bows or barrettes, or head-to-toe pink. She is a crawler, and that means that dresses will just get in her way right now. I like dressing her each morning. She wears vintage sweaters, sassy little shoes, striped leggings. She has this kickin' little green hat with a knot at the top.

"What a beautiful boy!" All the time.

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I have a boy and a girl. Gender and its consequences color a fair amount of my parenting. "It's okay to be scared," I told Nils last week. "Sweetie, you're always so kind and gentle with your friends," I told him just the other day. "That's why they love playing with you." Our world puts a lot on boys as well as girls... but the talk I picture having with Nils someday is along the lines of "with great power comes great responsibility." He's a man. It's all there for the taking.

It feels so much different with Liv. I've always been a "women's issues" kind of person, but having my daughter ups the ante dramatically. Steubenville. Maryville. Delhi. Tahrir Square. Much less extreme: Be beautiful! ... but don't spend so much time shopping and primping, you shallow fool. Be sexy! ... but NOT sexual. Minifigs. Sexist kids books. Google searches. And so on.

And smile! Would you like to know how many times in my life I  have felt entitled to approach someone and tell him/her to stop looking so serious? Yup. Zero. Would you like to know how many times I have been approached by a man and told to do just that? Many. Many. I have my father's demeanor; we both tend to look a little stormy while just thinking regular thoughts. Get over it, random guy. I don't owe you cheerfulness.

All these things are on my mind every time I look at Liv. This ridiculous world and all the things it will try and do to her. I want to build her a shield and teach her to call bullsh*t whenever she needs to, and to never, never look to someone else for validation. And then I walk into a Baby Gap and see a wall of pink. Hearts, princesses, "so sweet"s. Men are people and women are women. You are a woman.

Liv owns some wonderful pink stuff. I want to stress this. We've gotten some lovely gifts. I've bought her some little pink things. There is nothing wrong with being feminine. It's not even the clothes I'm really talking about. That's obvious, right?

That wall of pink tulle... the hearts... it reminds me of how little control I have. Who am I versus that whole world?

I'm her mother, that's who. If any one person can be a powerful influence, isn't it me?

Ah, that illusion of control.