Just TRY Yelling Crap at Me!

Today, I got a pass. I got assertive and told my baby son, "Kid, there's nothing wrong with you. You need to nap." As a family we'd all gone to Lily's basketball game and then to IHOP afterwards. Neil and I had spent about three hours that afternnon in which he hung out in my arms, eating and drooling. He had fallen asleep on me, so I tried to put him in his crib. He then proceeded to cry, at which I just decided to let him cry.

It's mid-November, and the temperature is mild. I decided that I needed to take advantage of the situation, so I went for a walk. I headed up Kentucky Avenue, which straddles the border between Newport and Southgate. I love walking in this neighborhood, because it feels like its own world. It's on a ridgetop, overlooking the Licking River and Covington to the west. I felt invigorated and alive as my heart started pumping. I thought Important Thoughts such as "You know, you never learn vocabulary in your L2 (second language) unless you're in a situation where you see the need for it." Then I thought thoughts such as "Look at that woman running up the steps (in Veterans' Park). One day I'd like to be a Person Who Runs."

Then I thought that I'd better get home. I had planned to attend Mass at my parish at 6:00, and it was after 5. So I headed downhill. I decided to take 19th street home. Its intersection with Monmouth Street (aka U.S. Route 27-a rather busy street) has a pedestrian walk light. Now, this street looks very "classic Newport" to me. That's snobese for "working class/working poor." However, I've always liked this street because its topography is good for Those of Us Working Off Pregancy Globs. Plus, I rationed, what room do I have to be a snob? I live in Newport, too.

What then happened was what has happened to me on several occasions in my life. Some #@^& thinks that it's his right to make me feel bad. Most of the time, when this has happened in my life, it's some man who has to yell to me about the fact that I do not live up to his perceived feminine sexual ideal. News flash, Goober-you're a troglodyte drinking beer on your front porch in Newport. It's not like you could have even gotten me anyway! Dude, I speak three languages. I have lived in Paris. I have a 1.5 masters' degrees. You probably have a criminal record, several DUIs, and body odor, if not excessive back hair. You wish you could savor my flabby feminine wiles.

For the first time in my life, I don't feel embarassed or shamed about this. Usually, when this crap happens, I think, "(Sigh) I wish I weren't ugly and fat." Now I get it. It has nothing to do with me. This man and his mouth-breathing pals realize that their lives have reached their apexes: drinking beer and yelling crap at a flabby, middle-aged walking mom of three who's trying to get rid of pregnacy fat. This is the best that you will have. You know that you are such little, little men, that this is the ONLY way that you can feel better about yourself. How sad for you. I'll let you yell your sad little insults at my alleged ugliness, because we all know who's really ugly.

I used to cry when I was very young and this kind of thing would happen. But today, for the first time, I am just angry about the whole thing. My feminist ire has been kicked up. Why is it that all women have to judged on the merits of their looks? Why is it, that when I was crossing the street in Lexington, running to make a light, some random man had to yell about my breasts bouncing up and down (something to the effect of his wanting a "shake with his fries.")

Epilogue

So I haven't blogged in a long time. It's been a year and half. Here's what's happened, in order of ascending importance:

1. I am in my fourth year teaching at the school in which I work. I am back in the room in which I spent my first two years teaching, after having spent a year traveling around from room to room, supplies in tow.

2. Lily and Vincent are in their second year of attending said school. They are thriving.

3. I spent a year taking online courses through U.C., and I completed all the coursework for an ESL endorsement. I still need to submit the paperwork and take the standardized test.

4. (This feels like resolution to the story) I gave birth to my third child on June 27th of this year. Wow. What a journey to get there. When I miscarried in December of 2009, I suddenly knew how much I had wanted the baby I lost. I decided I would do anything to get another baby. So my doctor suggested surgery to remove my fibroid. I researched options and decided on a surgical procedure that my practice did not offer, the DaVinci myomectomy. It was purported to be easier than the traditional myomectomy, as it was laproscopic, robotic surgery. I found a wonderful new practice that offered this procedure. I went through said procedure. Then, when all was said and done, I had decided by September of 2011 that I was perfectly content with my life. I thought that I could live happily without a third child. Luckily, the powers that be decided that I should have another baby. So I had my baby about a year to the date after Peach's would-have-been birthday. Neil is a (cliche to say it)blessing. He's easy-going, happy, and adorable. Whew. t

This all feels like the epilogue to book one. I needed to write this so that I can begin book two.