on conferencing...

I have been attending at least one annual national library conference or another each year since I entered the profession.  In the late 90's, there was enough travel money that we were often able to get funding for more conferences, but as the economy slowed, I learned to look for funding opportunities such as grants and travel awards.  I have always looked forward to these trips, as I live to travel, love visiting large conference cities, enjoy the professional development and networking opportunities, and manage to squeeze in sightseeing when I can. I especially looked forward to conference time after the kiddo came along, as it was often the only time each year I could have quiet time where I wasn't wrangling a kid.  In the years before she was born, I always roomed with other librarians and enjoyed it, but have grown to treasure quiet time in my room, as I am rarely by myself.  I don't want to waste my organization's money, so I have become a master at finding alternative lodging opportunities. I have stayed in guest houses, hostels, college dorms, nearby budget hotels, and am staying in an Airstream in a campground this year. In Chicago, I rented someone's fully furnished studio apartment and rode the El into the conference every day. Essentially, I keep my lodging costs to the same amount others who share their rooms pay.

Now that my child is getting older and a bit more independent, I am beginning to lose my need to be ALONE, and will probably resume taking roommates again after this year.  I am fairly new in my position here, and don't really want to get a reputation as someone who is standoffish. I was close enough to my co-workers at my last job for them to understand that I was not anti-social, and I was happy to hang out during the day, but they were empathetic to my need to have a little alone time once a year. I am still getting to know people here, so I feel I should be sociable and look for a roommate next year. I honestly do enjoy the company of colleagues, but I also relish, for a few days each year, the silence of an empty hotel room, the ability to traipse around my room wrapped in a towel and watch cable TV, which we do not have at home, and being able to hog the bathroom. These are luxuries on par to staying in an expensive spa. After a few days of having quiet evenings and mornings in my room, I start to feel like a hermit, and am grateful to come home and experience the beautiful cacophony of my child.

This is the first year that I am actually experiencing a sense of sadness about leaving.  I have been growing closer to my kid and spending a lot of time taking her on little weekend adventures.  As my husband struggles with his back injury, I have stepped in to take her places so she won't spend her entire weekend playing Minecraft, and so he can rest his back. Though I hate for my husband that he is in so much pain, the experience we're all going through has brought us all closer.  I will be gone 5 1/2 days, and I am already missing my family. I hate to be one of those mothers who cannot bear to be away from my daughter, but I do feel maternal pangs when I am away.

Though my husband always has a conference the same week as I, I am hoping to take my mother and daughter with me to San Francisco next year, and perhaps head over to Yosemite for a couple of days afterwards.  Mom has offered to watch the kiddo while I attend programming, and I want so much to take my daughter to all the places I was able to visit when I was a kid. If that doesn't work out, I will reach out to my co-workers and learn to do the roommate thing again. What I'll give up in privacy, I'll gain in fellowship.

on aging...

Lately, I have been thinking about the fact that I am now "middle-aged" and am, like everyone else, starting the aging process.  I tried this morning, during my commute, to tease out what aging means to me, how I feel about being middle-aged, and what kind of older person I'd like to be.

The common wisdom is that women tend to take aging hard.  They desperately try to hang on to their youth, they invest a fortune in "anti-aging" skin products, they fret about the effects of gravity, and those who are well off rush off to have "work" done.  Frankly, I see my peers aging gracefully and not dwelling on their age, and I, personally, have not felt any pulls of desperation. In fact, I don't feel particularly perturbed at all that I am 46 years old.  I don't know what 46 is supposed to feel like, but I physically feel better than I did in my early 30s.  I can hike to the top of a mountain now, while, 10 years ago, I was struggling to climb a few flights of stairs.  I have more patience than I did 10 years ago, and I actually like the changes I have made to the way in which I present myself.  I no longer dress for "shock" value or follow trends for the sake of doing so; I choose clothing that I feel flatters me and that can be worn in a variety of settings.  I think my youthful attitude comes from having had a child at an "advanced maternal age".  I am dealing with 8 year old problems, and only had my first real professional, career-track position at the age of 30, so my maturity and growth was delayed by a number of years.  That means that my life pace is more on par with the average 30 something year old than it is with most people my own age.  I guess that also means that I had a lot more "immature" years.

There are both advantages and disadvantages to starting careers and having children later in life.  I had no idea what I wanted in life at 22; and had I started having children or started a career back then, I don't think I would have excelled at either.  Woe be to to the child that would have had 22 year old me as a mother. And, had I settled on a career right out of college, I would have missed out on the incredible experiences I had in my 20s, as I explored different options and kicked around as a cliched Gen-X slacker, choosing jobs and settings based on the incredible places in which I chose to live.  The 37 year old I was when my daughter was born was more mature, certainly more economically viable, and more patient. HOWEVER...  My friends who are now becoming empty nesters have a level of freedom that I don't have.  They have paid their dues, and are now traveling and seeing the world as a more affluent person than I was when I had my freedom.  My adventures were extremely low budget, and there were times that I found myself in perilous economic situations.  Also, my child is incredibly energetic, and I am often tired, when 22 year old me would have had no problem keeping up with my kid.  Some of my friends who started raising children early were probably a bit envious at times of the freedom I had in my twenties; now I am occasionally envious of their newly found freedom.  I also worry about that fact that my only child will be younger when her parents are aging, and she definitely will lose her grandparents earlier than many of her peers. I don't want my daughter to feel responsible for nursing her aging parents when she is at the age where she should be focusing on a career, or on raising a family, or both. I feel sometimes that I have given her a raw deal by bringing her into this world with a mother who was almost 38.  But, every situation has pros and cons, and I cannot hyperfocus on the wisdom of the choices I made.  I simply was not ready for parenthood until my mid to late 30s, and that's just the way it is.

In terms of worrying about my attractiveness as I age, I really don't. I don't feel jealous of beautiful young women with their entire lives ahead of them.  I already had my turn as a young woman, had all those advantages, and it's time now to pass the torch.  Age is the great equalizer.  I also don't believe that beauty is limited to the young.  Beauty exists at every age, and the older we become, the more inner beauty becomes more relevant. I feel more confident in my own skin than I did when I was young, and sometimes, confidence only comes with age and wisdom.  Yes, there are men who dump their aging wives for younger, more pliable, more attractive women, but, trust me, if you have one of those, you're better off without them. There are plenty of men who aren't seeking to replace the old with the new, and my husband, thankfully, doesn't appear to be looking for a trophy wife.

A lot of older women report that, as they age, they feel increasingly invisible.  People often don't listen to them as they speak, and look right through them.  This is probably the most troublesome, and actually, infuriating worry of mine. I loathe sexism, ageism, any "ism", really, and this is a particularly difficult problem to fight, as it is mostly a subconscious response.  So many cultures revere the elderly and respect their wisdom.  Here, we mostly want them to become invisible.  They remind us of death, and western cultures do NOT like being reminded of death. And I probably think about death more than average.  Blame my past as a goth; we're somewhat morbid.

In any case, I am not really fretting the fact that I am getting older.  Each stage brings with it new triumphs and new challenges, and I am enjoying the person I am becoming.  There's no getting around aging, unless you die young, so one might as well accept it with dignity and grace.

rambly fitness musings

This weekend, I had a fabulous trip on the VA Creeper Trail with about 18 other folks.  The shuttle took us to the top of Whitetop Mountain, and we coasted downhill for about 17 miles to Damascus.  The bike ride is great for people of all fitness levels, and I expected it to be a breeze, but we hit a couple of caches that required some climbing.  One had me stumbling through thick groves of stinging nettles, ouch, and another was about an hour scrambling up and down steep slopes to haul myself up to a waterfall.  Now, I know I have some extra weight on me, but I usually feel fairly fit for a woman my age.  I hike and backpack, and I go up and down 11 1/2 flights of stairs at least twice a day at work, often adding a brisk walk on top of that.  But I found myself frequently out of breath and about 5 minutes behind the two youngest people in our party; a 24 year old and a 12 year old.  It became very, very evident that I have to step up the training if I expect to do the Grand Canyon in January.  As I am going alone, it is very important for me to be in the best possible shape I can be.

To that end, I have to take off about 2 pounds a week until I reach no more than 150 pounds, and really step up the fitness level.  I'm starting to get nervous about my ability to do this, and I would be foolish to show up at 8,000 feet at the Grand Canyon Rim out of shape. 

Weight Watchers was really helpful to me, in terms of taking off the bulk of my extra weight, but it really requires a lot more counting and tracking than I have time to do, and I just can't afford the monthly fees.  I tried low carb, and found myself 20 pounds heavier.  So, I need a system that will be easy for a busy working Mom to keep up with, but isn't a complete free-for-all. Low carb, at least the version I followed, had very little structure, and I managed to cram in a lot of calories and fatty foods, and, despite what some people say, some of us are still sensitive to calories, period. This will require all of my willpower and motivation, and will also require, sigh, another investment of a new wardrobe when I am finished. I am wearing size 12 now, and I have a decent newish size 10 wardrobe packed away ready to activate, but below that, I have nothing.  I'm also not sure I'm ready, psychologically, to not be overweight.  On some level, the extra padding has provided some psychological comfort, and I may want to talk to a professional for a few sessions to troubleshoot how to handle being considered "not overweight", as bizarre as that sounds.  But, this time, the motivation is here, because any misstep on that trail could be potentially life threatening.

I may be one of these people that has to string a regular series of intense physical challenges to keep me motivated to be fit.  Obviously, having what some call a " bikini body" (and I saw a fabulous meme on FB that stated that we all have bikini bodies if we have a. a bikini, and b. a body) is not compelling enough to get me out of the Nutella jar.  There is some stubborn, resistant part of my psyche that believes losing weight means I no longer accept Body Positivity, and am, therefore, less of a feminist.  On the surface, this is a completely false dichotomy.  Wanting to live longer and feel vital and able to tackle physical challenges does not negate my feminism.  Why would I not want to have the ability to backpack and hike the Grand Canyon?  How am I a better feminist if I am winded climbing a flight of stairs?  Yet, despite the fact that I know this intellectually, I apparently have a metric ton of emotional baggage to unpack.  I wish there was a magic button I could press that would keep me from overthinking everything and would allow me to act within my best self-interest on matters of health.

Today, during my lunch hour, I chugged up and down 11 1/2 flights of stairs in the library 4 times, and still had time to dash out this blog entry.  For the younger people with whom I cached this weekend, this would have been effortless.  It was not effortless for me, but I completed this mission without too much trouble.  I'm 46.  I will never be 12 or 24 or even 35 again.  I have to measure my successes against the person I can be and not against some unachievable ideal.  But if 70 year olds can hike the AT and do the Grand Canyon, there is hope for me yet...

Rebooting...

During my early adult years, connecting with nature was where I found my passion.  My then-boyfriend, now-husband and I spent a few years kicking around Montana, Missoula, then Yellowstone National Park, then Bozeman, and then spent some time in Vermont before cracking down on furthering our education and finding a career. I asked for a top of the line backpack rather than an engagement ring, and we spent a good deal of time in the backcountry of the Rockies, as well as spring breaks in the Moab, Utah area.  I believe he enjoyed himself, though he tended to prefer actual comfortable lodging and day hikes to schlepping 30 pounds on his back for days at a time. We both accommodated each other well, and I will admit that curling up in a heated log cabin after a day of hiking or cross country skiing in the frigid air of Montana was often a relief.

After settling down with a full time job, and then, ultimately, starting a family, my ventures into the wilderness have been greatly reduced. I took up geocaching, and have been able to combine this hobby with long hikes, but most of my hikes are within 30 miles from the developed Triangle area, and there are times when I absolutely ache for mountains. Raising a child and paying a mortgage have strained our budgets, and moving all three of us across the country to trek through mountain wilderness is near impossible.

During those first couple of years after our daughter was born, I had this subconscious baggage about having any identity of my own outside motherhood and working. I felt selfish taking any time away from home.  Then, as my daughter became more independent, I had a brief spell of rebellion, and probably took too much time away from home.  Now my daughter is 8, and I am finding that she is an excellent outdoor companion.  We camp often, and I just took her on her first backpacking outing.  She was a delight, and it made my heart soar to watch her in the outdoors.

I am now trying to find a balance between parenthood and allowing myself to accommodate my yearning for rugged adventures.  Unfortunately, my husband is dealing with severe chronic back pain, and cannot tent camp or backpack.  While I am sad that we are limited in what we can do as a family, I am thrilled that my daughter and I can camp and backpack, and frankly, my spouse is probably relieved to have some alone time on occasional weekends to nurse his back.  Eventually, he will most likely require surgery.  I will be there to support him, and I desperately hope that he will heal, as he has lost his quality of life at the moment.

There is one item on my bucket list that is something I have to do alone.  I found an opening for two nights at the Phantom Ranch at the bottom of the Grand Canyon- in January.  While my daughter enjoys hiking, I know her well enough to know that the hike in and out is something that will have to wait a few years.  I also know that my husband can't attempt this now, and this is not something that seems to be on his own bucket list.  I will have to hike in alone, and there will probably be snow and ice for the first mile or two along the trail.  I booked a bunk in a dorm room, as I was fortunate to even find the space- any time of year, but I am experiencing very conflicting feelings about this.   Part of me feels intense guilt for abandoning my family and using some of our resources for 5 days in Arizona.  And, even though neither family member really feels the pull to do this, and I have my husband's support, I know that there is a part of him that is sad that I am going off to have an adventure alone.  Yet, I will be 47 in January, and something this rugged is not going to be any easier the longer I wait. I am not sure if the guilt I am experiencing is associated with being a woman and a mother, or if it is due to my general tendency to sublimate my own needs.  I am struggling to reconcile my need to nurture myself and occasionally reboot in a way that only solitude and nature provides with my desire to be a good mother and wife.

I do think that it is crucial that children see their parents as human beings who have identities and interests above and beyond parenting. I want my daughter to grow up to be a strong, independent woman, and what better way to encourage this than for her to see her mother still taking care of herself and her needs?

I have another trip planned for July, backpacking with a friend in the Smokies. My goal is to have a couple of these trips lined up each year; one close by (and cheap), and perhaps the other out West, where my spirit lives. And, the rest of the year, I will build in outings with my kid, and camping in the pop-up with the whole family, whenever we can work it in.  Taking care of my need for wilderness has helped me feel like a whole person, and feeling like a whole person has helped me to be a happier mother.  So, I encourage all adults, parents or not, to find that thing that gives them passion in life and nurture that, even if it is just an occasional indulgence.

Pining for the Ghosts of Republicans Past...

It's a sad day when a liberal pines for the days of Reagan, Ford, and William F. Buckley, but I find myself missing a time when Republicans were less angry, more articulate and more success-driven.  Though my childhood neighborhood was stuffed full of Republicans, their approach to child raising was almost identical to that of my liberal parents. Kids were encouraged to make good grades, get into the best college possible, and to succeed economically in the world.  We may have quibbled about the government's role in providing equal opportunities for all Americans and our tax structure, but we could carry on a conversation with our neighbors without coming home with the Picard facepalm.

Social media has afforded me the opportunity to check in on the lives of people with whom I had long lost touch, and the transformation of those who identify as staunch conservatives is often startling.  There are several I have observed who were once cheery, happy-go-lucky types who seem to only post conservative rants all day long.  Some of them would express outrage at Obama if he stated that the weather was nice on a given day.  I suppose, as a liberal, I should be disgusted, furious at their posts, but instead, I am saddened.  Some of these folks were the life of the party, and a delight to hang out with.  They were full of life, energy, and hope for the future, and now they seem bitter and far older than I feel.  Many of them always had conservative leanings, but they still were fun people.  Now, they rail at the world and seem as if they are two conservative memes away from having a heart attack.

Back in the 70s and 80s, Republican parents in my area were pushing their children to achieve.  Families celebrated when their kids were accepted to UVA, William and Mary, even the occasional Ivy.  Today, I have actually heard conservative parents discourage their children from attending college at all, due to the "liberal bias" on college campuses. I have seen conservative parents force their children to live in isolated bubbles, as if their children cannot be trusted with exposure to other points of view. I have heard conservative parents forbid their children to take courses that would actually increase their economic viability, simply because of dogmatic political viewpoints.  And that's where the Picard facepalm enters.  Conservatives supposedly embrace low taxes, self-reliance, and the pursuit of wealth.  And yet, many are blocking the opportunity for their children to pursue a path in life that would allow them to be competitive in a tough and global marketplace.  Your children are going to have to rub shoulders with a diverse group of folks when they enter the work world.  They will be exposed to people of all viewpoints, races, sexual orientations, and educational experiences.  If they are raised in a sheltered environment and kept from certain kinds of knowledge, they will be left behind in tomorrow's economic world.   I don't care if they strive to be a cashier at Wal-Mart; they will need to be able to relate well to all types of co-workers and customers, and growing up with seething, angry parents who try to restrict their world view will not prepare them for the changing demographics and workplace of the future.

I have written on this topic before, but a slate of posts on my News Feed in the past week have concerned me even more.  Some of these people are so driven to bash the Obamas for every utterance and action they make that they are now mocking the poor Nigerian schoolgirls who were kidnapped, simply because Michelle Obama posted a sign of support. When your political grudges lead to you making fun of a tragedy, you have crossed the line from conservative to utter, basement dwelling lunacy.  And I am floored that this point is lost on these people.  I am concerned for their state of mind and for the futures of their children.  And I am sad that these people appear to no longer be fun to share a beer with.  I can get along with most anyone, and I count a few Republicans among my friends and beloved family members.  If I cannot sit down and have a reasonable conversation with you, chances are that no one outside your bubble can either.

I am wondering what has happened to all the reasonable Republicans with whom I grew up.  Have they crossed to the dark side?  Are they laying low out of mortification, as their party grows increasingly outrageous and Honey Boo-Booish?  Have they become moderate Democrats?  Or have they just become politically apathetic?  It behooves all Republicans with a brain and a sense of logic to stand up against those who have tainted their party.  I cannot believe that my country club Republican neighbors are thrilled to have frothing, angry, embarrassing spectacles representing them. It is time for these reasonable Republicans to take their party back.  I miss having intellectual debates with the "other side", and I miss being able to affectionately agree to disagree.  And, most of all, I miss seeing some of these old friends from the past find delight and wonder in their lives. I hope that all this ranting on FB is just a release, and that they are truly happy in real life.  I doubt it.

Sadly, I suspect that conservative leaders  who occupy the 1% are pulling strings behind the scenes to manipulate economically marginalized white people in order to whip up their outrage, play on their deep-rooted prejudices, and distract them from acknowledging that they are basically getting screwed in the lottery of American life.  These Republican leaders have skillfully managed to convince these people to vote against their best economic self-interest, and to create an army of angry white people they can point in whatever direction suits the 1%.  For that, I have to credit them with strategic brilliance.  But that also makes them insidious and evil, and at the end, the army of angry white people will be as screwed as everyone else in the 99% as they happily march towards the slaughterhouse.

Bless my own heart...

There was a time when I was slightly ashamed of my Southern heritage and my own mannerisms and customs. As someone who believes strongly in human rights issues, I was mortified by our history of slavery and racism, and as a feminist, the whole "Southern Belle" thing rubbed me the wrong way, especially since I had inadvertently picked up some of these traits myself. The New England half of my family was refreshingly direct, and I believed, for a long time, that blunt honesty was preferable to our often symbolic and passive style of communication.  I noticed during my trips to Vermont the prevalence of women with natural faces, sensible hairstyles, preppy LL Bean wardrobes, and felt embarassed about my love of fashion and my tendency to wear makeup most of the time. I even found myself occasionally apologizing for being Southern.  "Did I just say "Bless her heart"?  Sorry, I'm Southern."

We are who we are and regional differences are delightful and make our country more culturally rich.  And, if we all lose our regional flair, our country will be so much duller for it.  I have already noticed that the younger generations of my North Carolina relatives have lost some of that Downeast accent, and, instead of local owner operated restaurants, everyone is eating at Hardee's and Golden Corral. The young folks are often not learning how to cook the recipes their grandmothers once cooked, and gardens full of okra, field peas, and butter beans are being replaced by the salmon pink tough tomatoes one buys at a chain grocery store.  This actually makes me very sad, as we are rapidly becoming Wal-Martized across America. When I travel, I always want to taste the local cuisine, and, though the larger cities usually have "regional" food restaurants, many small towns have nothing but the same chains I see everywhere else.

I have decided I will no longer apologize for being a woman from the South.  I no longer believe that my cultural attributes are weaknesses.  And though some of these mannerisms appear to contradict my professed feminism, I feel as much a feminist as anyone else, and I am finally at home in my own skin.

Some of my Southernisms:

I rarely leave the house without makeup, even if I am only wearing concealer and foundation with sunscreen.  Even if I am planning to geocache in a swamp all day wearing chest waders, I am going to "put on my face".  Yes, I say "put my face on".

I actually refuse to wear white shoes between Labor Day and Memorial Day.

I believe that etiquette and diplomacy are of the utmost importance.  If I have to confront you about something, I am going to say something positive at the beginning and at the end.  I believe that "you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar". 

I sometimes find it challenging to communicate with Northerners without getting my feelings bent out of shape.  My upbringing taught me that how you say something is as, if not more important than what you say.  If you come at me with blunt and direct feedback, I feel somewhat intimidated and just shut down.  I often find it difficult to directly confront others, and sometimes keep things to myself to "keep the peace". I am not weak; it's just something pounded into the heads of Southern girls as they grow up. Don't get me wrong- I love my Northern people as much as my Southern people, and half of my heritage is about as far north as one can get without crossing into Canada.  But I grew up in Virginia, and so I absorbed more of the southern communication style.

I will never dress anyone down in front of others.  Never.  I will not disturb an event or gathering with a public tantrum.  I WILL say something one on one, but I was taught that it is incredibly rude to air one's dirty laundry in public. Unless you publicly insult my Mama, Daddy, husband, kid, or friends.  And then, all bets are off.  I can go from diplomat to Mama Bear in about 5 seconds flat.

When someone DOES cause a public disturbance, it is completely awkward and uncomfortable for me, even if I am not involved.  I want to crawl in a hole.  I want to pull the offender aside and give them an Emily Post etiquette book.  And, when it happens, I try to smooth things over with humor and deflection.  I feel it's my responsibility to be "the hostess" at all times.

I often feel that people who invoke "authenticity" and "keeping it real" as an explanation for their overt bluntness are making excuses for being rude.  Say what you need to say, but there is no need to say it in a hurtful manner.

I believe that food should be involved in everything, and is closely tied to fellowship.  I may not be able to ease your grief after a death, but dangit, I can make some cake or potato salad. I believe that a cookie can make a kid forget their boo boos.

I believe that slips and proper lingerie complete an outfit, and I believe that there is a difference between looking "sexy" and looking like you are not fully dressed. And somehow, I can hold these views while still embracing those women who prefer a more androgynous, even butch presentation, and I don't believe in slut shaming.  I don't know how I have been able to do this, but I somehow have.

I believe that women of all sizes can present themselves beautifully, and that size should not be a barrier to finding flattering clothing and feeling fabulous.  This may not seem like a "southern" custom, but have you ever visited a southern church and seen ladies of all sizes with their dresses and hats? I do think we are a bit more forgiving of a little extra padding than some other regions.  We eat fried food all the time; how can we not be?

Hoppin' John, okra, grits, fried chicken, biscuits, BBQ, nana puddin', pork products.  I love them all.

I tend to proceed anything critical with "Bless his or her heart".

It is difficult for me to ask people for help, and when I do, I tend to proceed it with "If it's not too much trouble, would you mind...."

I worry a good bit about offending people.  I take the time, even when writing, to try to frame things diplomatically.  I worry that this blog entry will offend somebody. I'm not worried enough to not post it, but there you go.

While I would like to work a little bit on being comfortable with directly telling people when things they do bother me and on advocating for my needs, I am pretty much at peace with the rest of this.  It's who I am; it's how I was raised, and I have tried to take the best of my heritage and discard that which I don't like. And if you don't like the way I dress, carry myself, or communicate, well... bless your heart...

Ugh at bows and ruffles

My kiddo is about 75% tomboy.  She will wear a dress, perhaps, twice a year.  When she does wear "girl clothes", she favors a rocker/punk girl look, with skinny jeans, a modern blouse or girl's funky t-shirt, and a short shrug on top.  She has her own unique sense of style, and we only interfere when she is dressed completely inappropriately, i.e., too small/tight clothes, shorts in the middle of winter, etc. Each morning, I ask her "boy or girl clothes", and we proceed according to her desires.  Some days, she tells me she wants to change her gender; other days, she says she wants to be more "girly".  I realize it's quite common for girls to wish they were boys; often it's a stage.  If it continues when she reaches adolescence, I may take her to a counselor, if only to work through whatever social issues her gender identity may cause, and to make peace with whomever she is meant to be.

My HUGE pet peeve is that finding clothes that please her is near impossible, at least in our budget. For example, if she needs a pair of tennis shoes, her choices appear to be the pink/lavender/white spectrum, usually with girly trim, OR extremely traditionally masculine colors and styles.  Grown women have a variety of colors and options from which to choose.  Those who prefer a classic, more unisex style can go to LL Bean or Eddie Bauer and find non-girly women's shoes, and how many of us have a ton of basic black shoes? S loves to wear black, and we often have to hunt around a great deal to find items similar to what her mother wears.  I find a pair of what appears to be basic girls' jeans, and they are ruined for S because of pink piping or flowers that appear somewhere.  We then check the boy's section, but the designs are TOO boyish for her, and, frankly, the fit is different.  She has a girl's body, not a boy's.

My own style ranges from girly to punkish/goth to outdoorsy unisex.  But I have options for all of these moods.  I can peruse LL Bean for those New England preppy days, the Gap, Banana Republic, and Old Navy for dressing down while still wearing female silhouettes, and a ton of stores that cater to my love of glam/retro/girly dress-up gear.  But S?   It is a huge headache locating anything that doesn't pigeonhole her into girly girl or drag king boy clothes.  Neither of these are intrinsically wrong- there are a lot of kids who LIKE these items, but there are a lot of kids who fall through the cracks.

Why do we feel the need to pigeonhole kids into girly girl or uber-masculine boy, when, in fact, we don't feel the need to do so for older kids and adults? Are we being prescriptive?  "You are a girl, so you have to wear pink and bows." "You are a boy, so your clothes have to have transportation and space themes." And clothing for toddlers is even worse.  The princess theme was shoved down our throats, and S would have preferred a black t-shirt with aliens to the Trifecta of Disney Princesses.

Gift time is often frustrating.  Though I am grateful for all the gifts we receive,  it is not necessary to purchase pink Legos for my daughter, and sometimes, little girls would rather play with trucks than dolls.  Sometimes, little boys like to play with dolls.  The most egregious example I've seen are a set of twins that are boy/girl.  The girl is constantly presented with PINK everything, while the boy gets the BOY counterpart.  He gets toolsets while she gets jewelry kits, as if the world will fall apart if she picks up the toolset and he picks up the jewelry.  They often get identical gifts, but hers has to be girl colored and his has to be boy colored, as if there is no way they know what gender they are without reminders.  God forbid kids raised this way have gender identification issues.

Again, I am not judgmental of those kids who intrinsically prefer  items that match their gender.  Many girls are naturally girly, and many boys are naturally masculine.  But it shouldn't be so difficult for those on different areas of the gender identity spectrum to find clothes and toys that please them.  There is no reason there can't be lots of jean options for girls that are just plain jeans.  I find myself constantly frustrated.  There are specialty stores that have great clothes my kid would like, but they tend to be higher end, and I don't believe in forking out huge amounts of money on clothes for fast growing children.

Kids are hopefully going to eventually discover their own personal style.  As they begin to buy clothing that fits adults, they can easily find items that suit them.  So, why start them out with this prescriptive "This is how you should be a girl" or "This is how you should be a boy" box?