On "Holiday Magic"

 I guess this is a poem? I don't know, I just have Thanksgiving feelings so...wrote it down.

My holiday memories - packed with fun, never uncomfortable, always exciting.

My holiday memories - driving to the cousins house, sitting on a piano bench, playing Yukon Trail.

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the hustle and bustle of cooking for 20+ people?

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the time it takes to do hours of driving, visit, and hours back?

My holiday memories - they sparkle in my mind and seem so fun, so appealing.

My holiday memories - colored cards under the tree, no labels with names so we couldn't peek.

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the days and days of wrapping that had to happen?

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the packages and recycling and sorting of bubble wrap?

My holiday memories - everything felt so warm, so inviting, so homey.

My holiday memories - all in one house, and my dad saying "all my babies are home from college".

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the soothing of squabbles and assurance of equal fairness?

Did I forget, or did I not ever notice the time it took to make sure everyone had a space of their own?

My holiday memories - are they real, or looking back with rose-colored glasses?

My holiday memories - they happened, but who made it all happen?

I forgot, or maybe I never noticed, that mom carried a lot of the labor to make it happen.

He'll forget, or maybe he doesn't notice, the effort I've put in this week, this month, this season.

I hope that the only thing left will be ... magic.

Thanks, mom, for my magical memories. I'm recognizing how hard that must have been as I sort through my own feelings about the holidays now as the adult who bears a lot of the planning burden.

On the eve of my brother's wedding

Tomorrow my only brother is getting married! Here's the little toast I wrote for tonight's rehearsal dinner.

Ishmael, Esau, and me. What do all these have in common? Well, they are all firstborns, who believed they deserved a birthright, but for whom God had different plans. I was 10 when Nathaniel was born (so, like Ishmael, I had enjoyed a long period as the presumed firstborn). I was my daddy's handy girl, I had been his special buddy for doing finances at church, and in general enjoyed a "favored status" as firstborn - just ask my sisters to list a way things felt unfair to them. And then, suddenly, it was different. My grandfather & father were both so pleased that a son had been born, a son who could carry on the family name. And my status as "the most special" felt like it was shaken. Like Esau, I felt cheated - I was the firstborn by birth order, why did it matter that I was a girl? So at first, I didn't particularly enjoy having a brother.

That is, until I realized that I had an ally, instead of a replacement. Why was Nathaniel my ally? Well, here's an example: when my parents got cute Madeline dolls for the whole family, I got Miss. Clavel, the teacher, and Nathaniel got Pepito, the little boy next door. The other four had cute matching dolls, and we were the misfits. We stuck out together, as for a while, I was "the only teenager" and he was "the only boy". Later, after three more little girls came along, one holiday season, I came down to the basement to discover my sisters happily engaged in a giant game of hair and dress up. As a freshman in college, I wasn't sure if I could contribute - but eventually I did makeup, and Nathaniel put on a suit to be the “Ken doll” with the Barbies; so after all, despite occasionally feeling left out, we’d figured out ways to fit in together.

Fitting into our large family isn't an easy task - ask my husband and my two brother-in-laws what that's like - but in my interactions with Angela, I've seen how easily she fits in. Probably the best story to highlight this is from my son Max's third birthday this year. Angela and Nathaniel had been engaged for just one week, and she came along to celebrate Max's birthday with us. We were playing with his new toys, and my niece Brielle walked over to Angela to play, and Max burst into tears. When I asked what was wrong, he wailed "I just...want...Aunt Angela...to play with ME". Tomorrow may be when she legally joins our family, and takes the next step towards carrying on that family name, but in Max’s eyes, and in ours, she already fits in perfectly. Much love and Congratulations to y’all.

On the pressure of representing "all women"

Whoa, two blog posts in one day! I guess I have *big thoughts* today!

This morning at work I made a mistake, an embarassing mistake that caused me to need to submit a request for my developer VM to be rebuilt. And I spiralled into some panicky feelings. It was an honest mistake, but the public nature of it really stressed me out. Why?

Well, earlier this week I was in a supervisors meeting where we were talking about the diversity statistics for where I work (this is what the breakdown of % women and % minorities there are in the organization, they report out on it annually, if you've not worked in corporate culture before).

And being a "woman in STEM" comes with a certain amount of pressure, because of these numbers. Most organizations have DE&I (diversity, equity & inclusion) goals to increase those numbers. Plenty of colleges (my own alma mater ncluded!) have programs that seek to change the balance of these numbers. And it's because of this that I know there are some people who will never, ever change their minds about me. In their minds, women can't write code, and any woman with my job doesn't know what she's doing.

It's that weight that I'm carrying around with this mistake. Yes, there's also the natural work stress that a mistake puts me behind, and I have to reset some work I'd already done because of needing the VM to be rebuilt, but really, those things are recoverable. But the weight of having proven someone "right" in thinking that women shouldn't work with computers? That's what's nagging at me. That's why this mistake isn't something I can just brush past and get over. Those same people would probably say "you can't get over it because you know we're right, and you're not meant to do this" and I *hate* that I can even imagine this conversation. 

Anyways, it was making me angry and getting under my skin so here I am writing it down and publically saying no to that conversation. I'm allowed to make mistakes, and it doesn't mean I shouldn't be doing this. Because I am doing it. In fact, I've been doing it at this employer for TEN YEARS (I hit my ten year anniversary a few weeks ago). One of the executives at my job frequently says "we need everyone in this fight" as a reason to value DE&I initiatives. 

So here I am. I'm in the fight. Let my god-given talent for this go to waste? I don't think so.

                                    

(thanks, Elastigirl. For this, but also because of how you mother your three super kids. And for how you co-parent while working in the sequel. Truly the hero women in STEM didn't know we needed.)