index | archives | notes Monday, Feb. 20, 2023 10:14 p.m. << [ she said the sky was on fire ] >> I used to view the embedding of one skill into another on behalf of your children as a sacrifice. You give up the drawing or the poetry writing in exchange for more sleep or homemade meals or building the block tower. And what a waste, I thought, as I rebelled against motherhood thinking I was rebelling against the patriarchy. I would never sacrifice so much, I said, as I carved hate into my skin. I understand now it isn't so much sacrifice as optimization. You meet society's needs and your child's needs and your husband's needs and your own needs snuck in where you can create space for them. What used to be doodles during math class, hours with And All That Could Have Been on repeat on your portable CD player from Costco, waiting for the sun to set at the train tracks, transforms into DIY projects turning a diaper box into a wearable car that your two year old won't remember because she's fucking two. But you were there, and you showed up, and you did the thing, the way your parents never did. And you hold your breath that when your daughter is sixteen and furious the way you were, that she will remember. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org