I wear "The Pants," but everyone in my family wears pants (sometimes).

you know what really chaps my hide? stuff like this:

when i was pregnant with jack, at 12 weeks, we made the ultrasound tech take a guess as to the sex. she said girl. so we told everyone it was a girl. several people said, "oh, that's okay, i'm sure your next one will be a boy." i was like, um, i'm sorry, what? are you telling me "better luck next time"? is this china? do i have to throw the first one away since it doesn't have a penis? wtf?! turns out he did, in fact, have a penis. PHEW. i guess 9 10 months (< special pregnancy math) of morning ALL DAY sickness wasn't a complete waste of time and energy since i successfully produced a male heir to the throne in my royal kingdom???

it's 2013 (i think, but i could be wrong) and people say stuff like this, too:

"oh, you have two girls? is your husband sad? are you going to try for a third? who will he play catch with if you don't have a boy?" nothing incites my fury like the insinuation that a) you somehow failed at baby making if you didn't produce a boy, and b) that daddies can only play catch with their wiener-wielding man childs. GUESS WHAT?! MOTHERS can play catch with their SONS and FATHERS can play catch with their DAUGHTERS and... unfortunately, my math skills have languished since lawyerhood, so i don't know the exact permutations, but basically, IF YOU HAVE HANDS, YOU CAN PLAY CATCH.

"oh, you have two boys? are you so sad? are you going to try for a third? who will go shopping and get mani-pedis with mommy if you only have boys?" i hate shopping and my son loves having his toenails painted. so suck it.

"girls don't like football." this one does.

"boys don't like pink." not a true statement.

"you throw like a girl."

"stop crying like a girl."

oh, and when my daughter was born and they put her on my chest, i whispered to her, "hey buddy." the nurse, whose name was Chit, by the way, said, "Hey, you can't call her buddy. She's a girl." um, okay, a) i just pushed this baby out my lady bits so i can call her whatever i damn well please. i could call her Ernesto and you would need to shut your freakin' trap. and b) since when can't a girl be a buddy?!

what the eff, man? is this 1952? there are so many things wrong with the above statements, i don't even know where to start. first and perhaps foremost, using "like a girl" as a derogatory statement is just f*cked up. second, not all girls are crybabies dressed in pink, and some can throw a mean spiral. some boys DO like pink, get their hearts broken on a daily basis, and prefer drawing or collecting leaves or playing the ukulele to tackle football. third, having children is a total freaking crap shoot and you never know what you're going to get.

the other night, my daughter was body slamming my son and they were both laughing maniacally and making fart sounds each time they made impact with the floor. i looked over at my husband and i was like, "well, i guess i get to know what it's like to have two boys after all." (i had always thought, if i could choose, it would be fun to have two boys.) he replied, "not really. we still have one 'boy' (pointing to our rough-and-tumble girl) and one 'girl' (pointing to our delicate flower of a boy child)." i'm not gonna lie. i laughed quite heartily because per the prevailing cultural trappings, it's totally true. but then i felt bad because we are sexist jerks.

i understand that, generally speaking, there are a few essential differences between men and women, mostly physical. beyond that, i chalk most of it up to culture and socialization. the affectations of gender stereotypes are just that - acts - but they are so ingrained it's hard to even think about getting to a neutral place from which to analyze them. i mean, cavemen and cavewomen, or adam and eve, or whoever... they didn't care about pink vs. blue or shaving their legs or painting their nails or how best to showcase The Original Cleavage under leaves and mammoth pelts. (speaking of, eve must have been one of those lucky hairless women because, eef, me in just a fig leaf without access to a razor? avert your eyes.) anyway, the point is, they didn't have peewee football or barbies or superheros or princesses. these "preferences" and "tendencies" and hang-ups are things that we have created.

my personal experience has also belied the cultural norms, which i guess gives me a different perspective than many. my mom definitely "wore the pants" in two different marriages and was the master of the house, no two ways about it. she wasn't super girly. she didn't do much makeup and she sort of sucked at hair. she definitely rocked a mullet for a good little while there circa 1989-1992. she loved purses and heels but also went through a tennis shoe and fanny pack phase. she was a kick ass business woman, capitalizing on every opportunity and always working her way to the top. she was a whiz in the kitchen, a skill set she actually picked up primarily from her father. she also climbed mountains and drove fast cars. she never made me feel like there was anything i couldn't do because i was female. i remember for a while i dreamt of playing football at Notre Dame. like, i really thought this was my future, apparently still riding high on our resounding powder puff victory in 7th grade. she managed, for that year, or three, to encourage my dreams without rolling her eyes or laughing in my face. looking back, i realize how hard that must have been and it makes me love her even more.

in my own relationships, i have unintentionally sought, or been found by, thoughtful, sensitive, loving, romantic, moody, dramatic and/or intense men, so i know, even though many men try to hide it behind their tough/manly/sporty spice exterior, they can be just as emotional, irrational, and insane as we are, or are purported to be. it kind of reminds me of something my gay and lesbian couple friends complain about - the "So who's the 'man' and who's the 'woman' in the relationship?" question. why does someone have to be The Boss? why does there have to be a Stronger Sex? how are we defining/measuring strength and power here? and WHY are we measuring it? why can't we just BE. why does there have to be this dichotomy and why do we have to choose sides? what purpose does this serve?

look. i am FAR from innocent here. i gender the SH*T out of my kids, particularly their closets. my daughter's wardrobe consists of 93% pink glitter, and i put big flower headbands in her hair from the day she was born until the day she called the kibosh on that business. my son has a lot of blue and grey featuring emergency vehicles, sanitation vehicles, construction vehicles, and/or carnivorous prehistoric animals. i gender the sh*t out of myself too. half my wardrobe is pink or orange. i have had my toenails consistently painted for the past 20 years. i have spent thousands of dollars and hours on hair removal and other cosmetic ... ahem... augmentations. i am willing to spend obscene amounts of money on a good pair of jeans. i love dresses and high heels and things that are sparkly. my diamond IS my (second) best friend. seriously. i lurve her.

but that just underlines my point. i consider myself a fairly well-educated, progressive-minded person. i minored in Critical Gender Studies, for heaven's sake. and yet i still subconsciously - or even consciously - fall prey to this strict "pink OR blue" mentality and i just want to know why?!

maybe i'll never know the "why," but at least i can continue to be aware and to fight the inevitable gendered pigeon-holing that we as a society perpetuate (myself included, see reference to pink glitter, above).

here are some things i intend to teach my son AND my daughter:

how to throw a ball and a punch. (seriously. in case you can't tell. this is a pet peeve of mine. teach your daughter how to throw and hit. your son too. unless your children have no arms (in which case i am very sorry), teach them how to throw, and catch, a ball, and how to throw a right cross and a left hook punch someone in the neck. wait. f that. even if they don't have arms. teach 'em to use their feet. they'll be even more badass. also how to throw a well-placed knee to the groin.)
how to change a tire.
how to do their own laundry, including emptying the f*cking lint trap.
how to pee in the toilet, or at least clean up after yourself if you are physically unable to do so.
how to iron a shirt.
how to sit through a pedicure, even the terrible part where they're sawing the dead skin bark off your heels.
how to check a book out of the library.
how to pay your bills.
how to write a will. (PLEASE, i beg you. if you have children, write a will.)
how to bake a cake, some basic edible meals, and a couple of potluck pleasers.
how to keep house in a manner that will not instantly put off potential friends, suitors, or mothers-in-law.
how to alleviate discomfort from mosquito bites, bee stings, and the flu.
how to start a fire.
how to jump a car.
the etiquette of "the courtesy wave"!
how to write a thank you card.
how to say sorry.
how to shake hands (no limp fish, ew!)
how to look someone in the eye.
how to set 'smile' as your default setting.
how to be kind.
how to love.
how to say "Yes."
how to say "No."
how to tell the truth.
when to tell a white lie.
how to help others, and yourself.

i guess this list could go on forever, but mainly, i just want to teach my kids how to survive in this crazy world. i want them to be good, honest, loving, and kind. these traits are gender neutral. i think the most important lessons in life apply regardless of what shape your bits and pieces take.

** If you like this post, you'll love my essay in I Still Just Want To Pee Alone! **

Click HERE to buy!

source:  mae martin - http://imgur.com/gallery/jkNljuC



love ellen. 

NOBODY can have it ALL

wah wah wah... i may be suffering from a case of the mondays...

last night i sat down to write a post about my sweet sensitive boy and his favorite pink blankie. but, being the overthinker that i am, the subject got away from me. it turned into this enormous rambling monster that jumped from gender equality and stereotypes to the traditional roles of marriage to introverted and "highly sensitive" personality types, etc etc etc. i had to rethink and decided i would break it down. one post would be about boys and girls and how, in my (albeit limited) experience, they're not as different as you would assume or as the dichotomies that permeate the ether would have you believe. at least, not in the ways you would think.

another (somewhat related) post would be about "sensitive boys" and how they fare in a society that places such a premium on these contrived notions of masculinity and femininity.

i was not and am not trying to get to the heart of persistent gender inequality or instigate the next wave of feminism or examine the much maligned plight of the white male. i was just asking questions that maybe don't really have answers, because... isn't that what you do on the internet?

THEN. this morning i see, for like, the 37th time this year, another f*cking article about how women can't have it all. ARGH.

look. i'm not saying these people aren't making valid points. but helloooooo. have you ever heard of The Little Engine That Could? or how about the Henry Ford quote, "Whether you think you can, or think you can't, you're right." women will never be truly be on equal footing if everyone keeps reminding them that they can't be. because if you hear something enough times, you are going to start believing it.

and by the way. WHY is it always about what WOMEN can't have?!? NOBODY can have it all. seriously. not even "The 1%." each of us only has two hands and one head and twenty-four hours in a day. SOMETHING's gotta give. we all - single parents, working moms, stay-at-home dads, trophy wives, fortune 500 CEOs and everything in between, have to prioritize, pick what's most important to us, and do the best we can. but let's try to find that line between reasonably tempering expectations, and clipping our wings.

so maybe my son and my daughter can't "have it all." but i want them to be able to choose who they are and what they want to be based on what they feel in their hearts and minds, not based on some predestined plan predicated upon their possession of either testicles or ovaries. i mean, okay, my girl may not be able to successfully pee standing up (but, to be honest, the boys in my life aren't super awesome at it, either) or get an embarrassing boner in gym class (no big loss there!) and my son will never personally experience the joys and terrors of carrying a child, growing boobs (or in my case, buying them), or starting your period while wearing white shorts. but. non-negotiable physical differences aside, i plan to tell them BOTH that they can do whatever they want to do, love whoever they want to love, be whatever (and whoever) they want to be. nothing's standing in their way... and i am hoping, if i say it again and again and again and again... by the time they are grown... it might actually be true.

*sigh.* a girl can dream. (editor's note: boys can dream, too ;))

more tangential musings coming your way soon.

in the meantime, a little more rain for your parade:

"Why Women Should Stop Trying to Be Perfect" by Deborah Spar on The Daily Beast

"Debora Spar, Barnard President, Says Women Can't Have It All, And Shouldn't Even Try" by Lori Leibovich on Huff Post Parents.

"Why Women Still Can't Have It All," Anne-Marie Slaughter, The Atlantic

Mother! If Drew Barrymore can't have it all, I'm screwed.

Sheryl Sandberg Commencement Speech < "Don't leave before you leave." So true! And easier said than done.

And then there's this thoroughly depressing piece, "The Opt-Out Generation Wants Back In" by Judith Warner in The New York Times. Alternatively titled, "whatever you decide to do, you're f%&#$*."

"The Women Who Do It All But Don't Have It All" by Georgeta Dragoiu on The Washington Post. The intersection of race, class and gender - triply f%^&ed.

"Why Men Still Can't Have It All" by Richard Dorment on Esquire. < Yes! Exactly!

"Longer Maternity Leave Not So Great for Women After All" by Kay Hymowitz on Time.com < Aaaaah, the dreaded "Mommy Track," I know ALL about that!

"New Study Destroys Myth Than Women 'Can't Have It All'" by Max Nisen on The Business Insider < Sweet, so, if I move to Holland, and find a law firm that's cool with me working 10-19 hours a week (I'm sure there are plenty), I'm golden!

water is wet, and other reasons my kids cry

Big kids don't cry. Just kidding.

Okay, I know this is a played-out concept, but this is my life, so here are my unofficial submissions to the "reasons my kid is crying" phenomenon... (i'm like tee-ball and these guys - Jason Good & Greg Pembroke - are major league).

When we hang out with people who are not familiar with Jack's ways, we often hear "What's the matter?/What's wrong with him?/Is everything alright?/Please for the love of God and everything Holy DO SOMETHING TO STOP THAT RACKET!" I have to assure them that it's perfectly normal for my children (mainly the bigger one) to scream like someone set their hair on fire for any number of reasons, e.g.,

He wants to go to the water park, but he doesn't want to get wet.

A wave splashed him at the beach.

His sister splashed him in the pool/bathtub.

She threw something out of reach, and she's mad because she can't reach it.

IT SMELLS LIKE TOAST.

She wants to stick scissors in her ear.

His shirt isn't long enough.

His shirt is too long.

Mom said he couldn't wear PJs to school.

Mom chose to wear a skirt to work instead of pants.

Dad wanted to change out of his work clothes before snuggling his peanut-butter-coated children. (And by "peanut butter" I mean locally-sourced almond butter processed in an American factory that does not even think about peanuts.)

The sandbox ate his socks.

His "weinow" is "[s]tuck." Don't ask.

He wanted to try the hot sauce. And I let him.

She drank bubbles.

His feet got sandy at the beach.

We didn't call him "The Blue Player."

We called him "The Blue Player" at the wrong time.

We poorly played the part of the adoring baseball fans.

We said "Good job!"

We didn't say "Good job!"

She wants to take off her own shirt but she can't take off her own shirt.

She wants to be IN the bath and OUT of the bath AT THE SAME TIME.

His sister wants a hug.

His sister doesn't want a hug.

He didn't want to have his picture taken, so we took the picture without him.

I wouldn't let her OD on baby tylenol.

I wouldn't let him OD on gummy vitamins.

I wouldn't let him rip the nose off his teddy bear so that it matched his cousin's.

I didn't buy him a "supwise" for not crying.

He "would like to be a gwown up," which to him entails drinking adult beverages out of glasses and playing with knives. Because he gets to 'at [s]chool.'

I would not let him have an Oreo pop for breakfast.

I forgot to bring a delicious and nutritious snack buffet for the 90 second car ride home.

She handed me a half-eaten banana and I didn't have it when she asked for it 45 minutes later.

also check out these jill greenberg photos of crying babies. hilarious and heart breaking.

sh*t my husband says

In "real life" -

"You're funny, for a girl."
Oh yeah? Well.... your brain has the shell on it!

After returning from a trip to the market with a 2-year-old Jack: "He made me buy Skittles."

Me (as I'm baking cookies): "I hope our kids like my cooking."
DM: "Yeah, I was just thinking about that. I have a feeling we're going to hear 'I'm eating over at Millie's house' a lot."
Ouch! And a corollary -
ME: "Jack, how's that chicken mama made? Good or bad?"
J: "Bad."
Alrighty then. lol. Millie's house it is!

"Nice ascot."
Yes. An ascot. Otherwise known, in some circles, as a scarf.

While we are out on 'Date Night' - "Are those jeans, or sweatpants?"
Um... Jeans... That are apparently going to Goodwill tomorrow?

 

"I love being married to you. I know we'll always have Ziploc bags around."
Awww. Thanks, baby. So romantic.

"You touched my pepperoni. That's true love."
FYI, that's not innuendo. I actually touched pepperoni. I'll take his pepperoni over his raw chicken any day! ;)

"[Our mutual friend] really likes you. This weekend he said, 'Can we just talk about the fact that you're married to pretty much the coolest chick ever?' And I was like, 'Wait, who am I married to?'"
Lol, wtf, man?! In his defense, only people that do not know me very well would think that about me :)

Brother-in-law: "Do you have a soldering gun?"
DM: "No. I have a hot glue gun for crafting? Does that help?"
Editor's note: We actually used the hot glue gun to fix the electronics after the soldering iron failed!

"Oh sh*t. It's my mom's birthday tomorrow? Did we get her a card?"
Yes, "we" did.

Went out to bars with friends. Went to their house afterwards. JW commences baking a cake. DM: "I hereby dub you Drunken Contessa."

DM took the day off to watch a sick newbie Colby-baby. I texted to see how it was going and I received this reply: "Watching infomercial called 'Brazilian Butts.' All is well."

I had some weird itchy rash on my legs and DM was like, "Maybe all your cellulite is melting off"...
Ummmm.... mayyybe.... ?

Me, putting on makeup wearing just "jorts" (my shirt was in the dryer). DM: "You're like a Guess mom jeans commercial."
Oh yeah? Well you're like the "Before" guy in a Rogaine commercial. Just kidding! You're barely even that bald, and anyway, I still love you, even though I know what's in store <3

While I am pregnant -

Me: "How does this dress look?"
DM: "Like a mumu."
Soooo... I should not wear this one to the baby shower???

DM: "You don't even look pregnant in that dress. People will probably just think you're a little overweight."

Me, dressed in black gaucho pants and a black top. DM: "You look like a pregnant ninja."
Not an inaccurate assessment. But still.

Me, dressed in brown yoga pants and a brown fleece, "I know I'm sort of monochromatic right now." DM: "I wasn't going to say anything, but you look like a giant tootsie roll."

DM: "Whoa, you're like wider than you are tall right now."
Me: *incredulous stare*
DM: "Not fat. Just, you know, really... thick."
ME: "Please stop talking."
DM: "Yeah okay, good call."

While I am recovering from being pregnant -

For some reason I brought my "skinny" maternity jeans - as in - maternity jeans that hadn't fit me in 3 months, in my hospital bag. As I'm struggling to get dressed to leave the hospital after giving birth to his daughter, DM says, "You probably should have brought some more forgiving clothes - it doesn't look like those are gonna work out for ya."
Thanks for the input, Captain Obvious!

"You look good, for someone who just had a baby." ... Um... thanks?

"At least you're thinner than when you were pregnant." Is that a compliment?

Sh*t Other People's Husbands Say -

JW, to TW, his beautifully pregnant wife: "It's amazing that your legs still look so good when you are generally enormous otherwise."

JW, after TW had stopped nursing their first child: "Awwww, sad, your boobs look like helium balloons three days after a birthday party."

GD, to his (reluctantly) pregnant wife upon her return from a business trip: "Wow, honey, you're getting huge! I love it!"

DP bought a maternity suit skirt. She tried it on at home and asked her husband if it looked decent enough for work. He responded, "I mean, it's fine, but I wouldn't pose for a picture in it or anything."

Oh, and she's not my husband, but sometimes I wish she was - our erstwhile nanny. When I was pregnant with Colby and found out she was a girl, I came home and told the nanny and she said, "I knew it! I always say you can tell someone's having a girl when their face gets kinda puffy and they look pregnant from behind.... Oh... I don't mean it like that... You look great."... Riggggght... hahaha :)

Okay. One of my cousins has some good material. I was going to try to come up with cheese names for all of them. She suggested Limburger for her husband, Muenster for her son, and Brie for her daughter. I was trying to think of a name for her but I'm kind of at a loss. Maybe Pepper? By the way, do you know there's a cheese called Cougar Gold? That's gonna come in handy at some point.

Anyway. Some of Limburger's gems - "No, it's not that [I don't want to hold your hand after you just delivered my first-born son], but you have some blood, or slime, or something foreign on your wrist." This coming from someone who guts deer and finds pleasure in raw meat! Apparently he would not touch her until she had washed the placenta or other unidentified schmeg from her hands! Ha!

When Muenster was born, Pepper had mild pre-eclampsia so she had to be induced. As she was being hooked up to the Pitocin, Limburger consulted the Google Medical School archives, proceeded to read aloud all the potential side effects, and then pronounced, "Ooooh, this is gonna hurt!" Then, after she requested an epidural and the anesthetist arrived, he said "Ooooh, that needle is at least 8 inches long!" Sounds like he needs to work on his bedside manner!

With Brie, Pepper's water broke at 2am and her contractions were intense immediately. They lived about 15 minutes from the hospital. She woke 'Burger, writhing in pain, and hobbled down the stairs, thinking he was basically right behind her. She waited, and waited. After about 5 minutes she crawled back to the apartment to discover him wrapped in a towel and shaving. She asked "What on earth are you doing?! Hello! I am having a baby. Like, NOW. There is presently a head coming out of my woman parts!" His eyes widened and he said, "Like, now now?! I was just shaving. I wanted to be fresh when she met me. I should probably finish. Can you wait that long?" Pepper had Brie 15 minutes later (they made it to the hospital, but barely) and she did NOT get the epidural. She screamed at him and told him to grow a beard :))

A funny story from another friend - Whenever anyone tells MH and her husband that their toddler is "advanced," her hubby replies, "She still sh*ts her pants. She ain't that smart!" Ha!

he has definitely said this.

worst vegetarian ever

when i was very young, my mom would fly across the country with me and bring "yummy snacks" to keep me happy. according to family lore, these snacks were raw carrot sticks and broccoli stalks. mmmmm. YUM-O. she wasn't a crazy health nut or anything - i definitely remember her baking lots of sweet treats and making a mean velveeta-bean dip. but i also remember her putting wheat germ in her pancakes and weird things like fennel seed in her pizza dough and instead of bologna sandwiches with kraft singles on wonder bread, my lunches were packed with pita pockets stuffed with alfalfa sprouts. that actually doesn't sound half bad now, but believe you me, that shit's worth diddly-squat in the cut-throat currency of the elementary school lunchbox black market.

i remember i wasn't even allowed to have honey nut cheerios. only plain ones, or probably something worse from the food co-op, like spelty-Os. i remember sometimes i would spend the night at my grandma's house and before bed she and i would each have a bowl of raisin bran and wooooeeeee did i think that was somethin' special. bran flakes and california raisins. partay! once my mom went on a business trip and i somehow convinced my father to buy me a box of lucky charms. (reminds me of this one time at my local coffee shop where a dad and his 3 year old daughter were eating enormous chocolate chip cookies at 7am and the dad was like, "don't tell your mother this is what you had for breakfast." ha!) it was like winning the lottery. i probably ate half the box, bounced off the walls for a while, and spent the next 24 hours in a sugar coma, but whatever. it was worth it. i STILL love lucky charms. there will always be a special place in my heart for stale marshmallows of any kind. post-easter clearance peeps, i'm lookin' at you.

if my mom's healthy eating habits had stuck, that would have been great, but even she had given up by the time my little brother rolled onto the scene eleven years later. it may have had something to do with the fact that he was allergic to milk, eggs, and beef.... that or she had just given up by then. little man stuffed marshmallows into his mouth straight from the bag, and had lucky charms for breakfast every day. i believe he subsisted solely on lucky charms without milk and chicken taquitos for the first five years of his life. perhaps if moms had stuck to her guns, i would have carried her good intentions into my own adult life, but actually, the opposite occurred, and i secretly blame the alfalfa sprouts. i think being deprived of sugar for the first half of my childhood instilled an insatiable craving for sweets and salts* and gave me an emotional allergy to vegetables. (*the salt habit is definitely her fault. before she and my dad divorced, she would drive my paternal grandparents crazy because she would put salt on all the food they cooked before she even tried it. she called it "just-in-case salt." makes sense to me!)

vegetables had already left their scar on my soul by the tender age of ... whatever age you are in third grade. 8? 9? anyway, that year, i won the illustrious st. philomene's "wings of the dove" writing contest for a short story called "vegetable face," in which a young girl named endive was repeatedly scolded for not eating her vegetables. finally, she succumbed to parental pressure and wouldn't you know it, she woke up the next morning and her face had been transformed into the very vegetables her mother had forced her to eat. that'll teach you, mom!

food art by alex j. jefferies.
this is f*cking terrifying.
going to go have some nightmares now.

so, as you can see, vegetables and i have a tortured history. despite our challenges, however, i decided to become a vegetarian in 8th grade. this was partly because i was 13 and wanted to save all of the animals and also the planet, and partly because my little sister reveled in my reaction when she would openly discuss the furry, cuddly, doe-eyed sources of our meals. "mom, bacon's made out of pigs, right? little piggies are delicious!" "mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb." "mmmm. hamburger. too bad this tastes so good because cows are cute." "do they really use horse hooves to make jello? my little ponayyyyy."

but i actually don't miss meat at all. once when i was pregnant i thought i had a craving for a tuna fish sandwich (i remember my grandma's being SO GOOD!) but you're not supposed to have tuna anyway, so i didn't act on it. then i recently smelled one and was like, wtf, that's disgusting, why on earth would anyone want to eat anything that smelled like that? so yeah, getting rid of the animal-y type things wasn't hard. i could probably even get rid of eggs if i had to. they skeeve me out 78% of the time anyway. but there is just one small snag in my life plan as a vegetarian.

i don't like vegetables.

okay actually this is not entirely true. my friends and family like to say this as a hilarious joke every single time we share a meal but i actually DO like vegetables. some of them. just not the ones that vegetarians are supposed to like, like portobello mushrooms (um, slimy zombie flesh?) and eggplant (in the words of Jason Good, "hey, can I get a tiny purple pumpkin in the shape of human kidney that tastes like dirt?" thanks but i think i'll pass!) and when we go out to a nice dinner and all they have for vegetarians is "pasta primavera," or god forbid a "roasted vegetable platter," i literally want to cry. i mean, seriously? not even some cheesy mashed potatoes or panko-crusted mac & cheese or a deep fried vegetable? help a sistah out!

here is a list of the vegetables that i actually like:

slightly overcooked broccoli, lima beans, carrots, and peas. fresh cucumbers. avocado obviously (oh wait is that a fruit?). and i actually still weirdly like peeled raw broccoli stalks. asparagus - like the top 1.5 inches. corn (but DO NOT put that shit right on the grill, i beg you. i'm not even stressing about the residual animal flesh, it just tastes like charred ass that way). bell peppers. banana peppers. jalapenos! green beans. crunchy lettuce that is completely covered in dressing. jicama (ditto on the dressing). black eyed peas, when evenly dispersed in a delicious persian rice dish. edamame with a shit ton of salt or that delicious 7 spice from world market. most any manner of potato (including sweet potatoes and, obviously, french fries, though strangely i do not love potato chips - except those salt & pepper kettle chips a.k.a. "heart attack crack," mmmmmm. yes. now that is my kind of "vegetable." :)) sugar snap peas. pickled beets. radishes. sprouts (when sandwiched by bread and cheese and mayonnaise). lentils, when made into a soup with so much sodium it could kill a lab rat. most all beans but black beans are my least favorite and unfortunately those are usually the only ones not made with the juices of swine or fowl. wait. i'm getting into legume territory. does that even count?

vegetables that i will eat without too much fuss:

raw carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, celery, snow peas, zucchini or similarly shaped squash. pumpkin or butternut squash if made into soup that consists of 4/5 cream and 1/5 salt. onions when they are cooked in some other sort of deliciousness. spinach. tomatoes walk a very fine line. i like super salty tomato soup as a dipping sauce for grilled cheese. does that count? i will eat tiny diced tomatoes in a salad. i think i have had three delicious tomatoes in my life so the odds are not in their favor. sometimes i forget i don't really like tomatoes thought and i get them on sandwiches and i inevitably end up with sliced tomato carcasses on my plate. or i give them to my friend :) also aren't they technically fruits anyway? sneaky bastards. also not a huge fan of arugula. tastes like bitter weeds. pretty sure it's not actually meant for human consumption, it was just some genius marketing coup following a bad lettuce crop one year.

vegetables i WILL NOT TOLERATE:

eggplant and any kind of mushroom - ESPECIALLY PORTOBELLOS. blarf. brussel sprouts. nope. get them out of my face right now. spaghetti squash. IT LOOKS LIKE WORMS.

the end.

oh yeah also i love cheese and bread more than i love my children sometimes so that, too, is an impediment to a healthy and balanced vegetarian diet. sure, i don't mind certain vegetables but i will choose cheese and bread over your goddamn pasta primavera every. single. time.

ps, before anyone freaks out at me, i make one or more vegetables for dinner (almost) every night. usually i make things i don't hate. sometimes i even make things i don't really like and i pretend i'm eating dinner with the president of the united states and i'm not going to tell him that i'd rather die than eat a portobello mushroom mushrooms aren't my favorite so i have to act like mmmmm, yes, this is deeeelicious! i also cook meat for my dear husband and children, even though i don't eat it. side note. cooking chicken. i don't get it. am i the only one who feels the need to burn down my entire kitchen after handling raw chicken in order to stave off the next major salmonella outbreak? sick. it actually works out alright since i usually almost burn down my kitchen every time i cook anyway.

just discovered this blogger lady, jj keith. obsessed.
also, check out her pinterest board,
"mother fucking homemaking." killing it.