Equality Schmality

Forget equal rights for women... what about equal rights for men?  The nay-sayers of the women's-lib movement cautioned that with equal rights comes equal responsibilities... no more holding the door for women, no more standing until the women are seated at the table first.  If women wanted to be equals in the workplace, then they would have to put in just as many hours as the men and not head home at 4pm to tend to the wee-ones.  Well, like it or not, women took that ride!  Here we are in the 21st century.  I hear reports on the news that women's mean salaries are approaching, if not surpassing, men's mean salaries.  I know that when I was a working single mom, I definitely logged too many hours in the office away from my kids.  Whether I'm old-fashioned or enlightened... I'm here, baby.  Rights, responsibilities and all!

But... what about the men?  Maybe there is a slight disconnect here.  And yes, I'm referring to a difference in responsibilities.  I'm not talking about the Working Dad vs SAHM show  down.  There is no way to measure who works harder, and it probably differs from family to family anyway.  No... I'm talking about just the everyday responsibilites of being a parent... an adult.

As a mom, whether our husbands are at work, at play or just busy around the house; we must continue to take care of our children and our homes the same as we always do.  (And this is true for working moms and SAHMs)  So, why is it if WE are the ones who must be absent for a time, that we are supposed to just be happy that our children were not allowed to drink bleach while we were gone?  We are somehow expected to juggle rebellious teenagers and destructive toddlers (AND teach them both to be upstanding citizens while maintaining our patience) all while ensuring that they are all are fed (in a healthy manner) and clean, that the laundry is complete so everyone has clean undies, and attempt to keep the house in a condition that doesn't resemble the aftermath of a hurricane.  But, when the shoe is on the other foot - "adult supervision" transforms into; watching the game on tv but will come running if there is a loud crash or screaming; diapers can be hanging off from the amount of pee in them... but don't need to be changed unless there is actual poop... and even then there is a delay of 15-20 min just to make sure that it wasn't just gas they smelled; food consists of man-formed meat and any processed item that the child(ren) do not have to be tricked into eating... and even then there is no such thing as washing a dish or actually putting that empty bag of Funyuns in the trash can.  And when it comes to cleaning - the kitchen is considered "clean" if there is nothing in the sink, regardless of the pots and pans left on top of the stove.  Do they realize that "cleaning the bathroom" isn't just scrubbing the toilet?  That toothpaste splatters on the mirror don't magically disappear over time, or that the hand soap bottles have to be dusted?  And worst of all... that no matter how good of a marksman they are... their aim in the bathroom is not great?  Guys... there really is a bottom side to those bowls that you pee in.  Maybe men should have equal responsibility for equal pay.  (Which is nothing. :-))

But then, I get that Divine tap on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear... "Do you really want that?"  Don't I enjoy the fact that I'm providing something for my family that no one else does?  Doesn't my heart warm slightly when my toddler is crying and as she comes running, she passes all of the "fun" people in her life and throws herself into my arms? The arms of the person that makes her eat green things.  Don't I enjoy the fact that even though Dad may never say no to a request for cookies, that they get excited when I cook something?  And then I feel a peace about my unequal life.  I'm doing exactly what I'm called to do.  Isn't THAT what matters?  My husband isn't called to be a mom!  How would our family function if we both wanted to be "mom"?  What if he wanted to stay at home and mother our children and clean the house? We wouldn't have a home, or I would be working a "paid" job and not doing what I love to do.  Our life would be completely upside down all because I wanted equality. 

I consider myself a pretty smart cookie... smarter than most people, but my husband is the smartest person I know!  Smarter than me.  I love the fact that I respect him and his intelligence.  I feel sheltered and taken care of and life's decisions are not all on my shoulders.  I trust his judgement implicitly, and we can't both be the head of the family.  There is no country that has two presidents, or two kings.

I truly believe that we are not all equal.  We are all VALUABLE, but not equal.  How can we be?  We were each created with our own unique gifts, talents and desires.  We can't be a world full of just leaders, or followers, or total bums.  I suppose our world has to be filled with a mixture, and we each are supposed to fulfill our purpose.  So, today I choose to embrace our inequality.  Suddenly, the pile of dishes in the sink (because I was working on a project last night) doesn't seem so high; it's just a reminder that Clint loves me enough to cook dinner while I worked.  And the half eaten 100 calorie bag of cookies in the playroom is just evidence of Clint's love for our daughter. The rolled up used diaper in her bathroom reminds me that he gave her a bath and played with her before putting her to bed last night.  Yep... our life is just as it should be, and I am thankful.  I'm going to dust the hand-soap bottles now, but I'll do it with a smile.

Making REAL Southern Sweet Tea

I am a southern lady, and I like it that way.  But, sometimes when it occurs to me that not everyone else in the world is the same way, I think about how odd some of our traditions are.  Don’t get me wrong… I understand the purpose behind most of the traditions and sayings… and I think that Southern people are some of the best peeps to be around.  I love that we associate comfort with food, and that is a southern woman’s answer to almost every possible trial in life.  Your husband left you?  Let’s get together and eat a whole tub of ice cream!  Someone in your family passed away?  We will fill your house with enough fried chicken, corn casserole and peach cobbler to feed you and a small army for a month!  And not just the tough times…. Prayer meeting at church? Everyone bring food! Prayer just goes better on a full stomach.  (Southern Baptist women are by far the best cooks on the face of the earth… just sayin’)  Just had a baby?  We’ll take turns bringing food to you for weeks!  Family gathering?  Food!  And every holiday known to man is associated with some type of food to us.  There really doesn’t even have to be an “occasion”.  There has never been once that I have crossed the threshold of my Nanny’s house that she didn’t attempt to feed me… even if I had eaten right before coming there.  When people come to my house, it’s just natural for me to ask “Would you care for something to eat?  Let me get you something to drink!”  I WANT to feed anyone and everyone that comes to visit… and even some who don’t.  I take drinks outside to our lawn people when they come.  They have no clue what I am saying (and vice versa), but they are sweating and working in MY yard and that makes it my responsibility to offer them refreshment.

But, sometimes I think of the things that are a little more odd.  For instance,… I am not a “smoker”, but I have smoked in my lifetime, and I can only do so sitting down.  I don’t know why, but as a southern lady we are taught that it is “crass” (how’s that for an old-fashioned word?) to smoke while walking.  And standing is only marginally better, but acceptable if you have vacated your seat for someone older or more fragile than you.  I think of my dearly departed Meemaw… she smoked almost her whole life, but I can’t think of one instance where I saw her walk and smoke.  The only time I saw her stand to smoke was when she had visitors and they occupied the only two chairs on her porch. She would stand leaning against the railing as she delicately puffed.

A few others:  Never wear white pants/shoes between Labor Day and Memorial Day (I know it’s acceptable these days, I just can’t bring myself to do it); You can be as catty and vindictive as you want with your words, as long as you say them with a smile and a sweet southern voice; Similar to the previous one, but still distinctly different – You can criticize anyone about anything, as long as it is preceded or followed by the phrase “Bless their heart….” (example. “He really tried to make good grades, but he’s as dumb as a rock… bless his heart!  Or  “Bless her little heart… she thinks those white pants look good on her.”)

In the south, we are raised to be careful when gossiping (not that southern ladies would gossip!) because in the south we keep up with relations for several generations.  So, just because you’re talking about someone from two counties away, doesn’t mean that you aren’t about to insult the great-aunt, or third cousin twice removed of the person you are speaking to!

Of the UTMOST importance… as a southern hostess… always have REAL sweet tea on hand to offer guests.  The idea of having unsweetened tea and allowing people to add their own sweetener, or *gasp* real sugar, had to have been the work of either a Northerner, or Satan himself.  Drinking a glass of unsweetened tea with undissolved sugar crystals swirling around is nothing like drinking a tall glass of sweet refreshing tea!  I can hear the ice cubes clinking against the glass now.  Ahhh.... nectar of the gods.  And, if you don’t know the secret to making REAL southern sweet tea… I suggest that you find your best “Southern” gal-pal and fall on her mercy to beg for the secret.