Girl Power?

Here comes an early-morning rant. You've been warned.
(I'm not even caffeinated yet)
 
I'm not sure if it's my overtired self being a little more irritable lately, or if it's the fact that my tolerance for nonsense has lowered but I have found it more and more painful to read the tweets and Facebook statuses in my news feeds lately as my generation of "feminisists" go on man-hating, male-bashing tirades.
 
I've never dropped myself into the category of feminist, but I wouldn't say that I'm not a feminist either. I prefer to say that I'm a woman of the 21st century, and that's good enough for me. I'm a feminist in lots of ways, but if feminism means that I hop on a soap box and run men down, count me out.
 
"Men only make two mistakes: everything they say, and everything they do" popped up in my Twitter feed this morning. Not once, but three times, in the 7 hours since I had previously tuned in. Facebook statuses announcing all men are idiots crowd my newsfeed every day. Come on girls, really?

If you really want to be a feminist, how about celebrating women a little more and beating up men a little less? How about not stooping to the level where you have to bash men - cause, last time I checked we were all against the whole "anti-woman" thing, weren't we? No?
 
I'm really proud to be a woman. I'm proud of the women in my life who inspired me and shaped me into the person I am today - including the women who were stay-at-home-moms (HORRORS), and the ones who went out on lobster fishing boats just like the 30+ men in the community. I'm proud that I have a girly-girl streak and I'm not ashamed to say that I hate getting my hands dirty (chipped nailpolish isn't my style).
 
I'm also really proud of my boyfriend, dad, brother, son, uncles, and male friends who screw up and make mistakes all the time not because they're men, but because they're HUMAN. Like me. Like you. 
 
I'm all for equality. I don't think women or men are necessarily smarter, or better or cooler or whatever based on gender alone. I don't think all men are good at math and all women are good at cooking. Everyone is an individual. Unique. Can't we celebrate that individuality in women and in men? Is that so hard?
 
 I think I should receive an equal wage as a man in the same position I hold, if we're standing on the same level of talent, skill and qualifications. Let's try tackling that instead of attacking every guy. Let's stop grouping them all into the same category, lest all feminists be thrown into the file of "man-haters".
 
What goes around, comes around y'all.
 
End rant. Time for coffee. Fully aware that I'm now hated by the feminist community.
 
Happy Wednesday.  

Diamond

Last week, I bought myself a diamond ring.

Yep. A diamond ring. For me. I spent weeks contemplating it, days browsing rings online and in stores and then finally, I went ahead and I did it.

I bought myself a ring.

It's been about a year since I slid my engagement ring and wedding band off for good. I left them in my jewelry box, and occasionally would peer in at them, or take them out and hold them. They're beautiful, but their meaning was gone. J was gone. I'd be lying if I said I want any of it back, but then, I'd be lying if I said I don't still feel a little funny without them.

Even after a year, I still expect to see my solitaire staring back at me.

So I'm bought myself a ring as a celebration of loving myself. I spent the last year figuring out how to love myself and it wasn't always easy, but I think I'm there now. There are still a few things I wouldn't mind changing, but I will when the time is right.

It's a celebration of growing into who I want to be and following my dreams. It's a celebration of finding my happy, falling in love and creating a life that's full. More than anything, it's going to be a reminder that I can do it. I deserve it.

In a lot of ways, it will hold the same meaning my wedding band used to: It's a commitment to myself, my son and my happiness. 

Unchanged

It's amazing how quickly things can change.

Back in October, I wrote about my feelings on being adopted. Just a few days later I shared the excitement of knowing my birth mom had happily received my letter. When I first wrote my letter, I didn't really know what to expect. It was emotional, to say the least, and terrifying every step of the way. I anxiously prepared for the worst, and I am thrilled at the way things have turned out.

It's been two weeks now that I've been in constant contact with my Birth Mom (BM), my siblings and one of my uncles and I've never felt so at ease - though the fact that I'm on anti-anxiety medication may play a role in that. It's weird to go from feeling unsure of who you are to feeling complete so suddenly. Learning about the quirks I share with people I've never met has somehow given me and understanding of who I am and the power to become who I really want to be.

It's even more amazing how, in spite of everything that goes on in our lives, that any of us can remain the same.

A few friends have expressed concern that I might suddenly change - or have a total meltdown, which admittedly could happen - as my world begins to catch up to speed in the aftermath of finding my birth mom. By my own admission, I've been hiding in the woodworks for the past week or so just trying to catch my breath and steady myself. But I'm still me. I'm still all of the things I was before.

I'm still a MacInnis - unless I plan to have that expensive, ghastly-scar-leaving tattoo removal - and I will always be a MacInnis. It's kind of like a gang. There's no getting out! (Just kidding - we're so awesome, people keep trying to get into the clan)

In spite of wearing high heels and living in the city, I'm still a rubber-boot wearing girl who snorts when she laughs and prefers beer and lobster over pasta and wine. Well, unless the pasta includes lobster. And I've never turned down wine before.

Although I've been lucky enough to gain a whole new family, I like my old family just fine and they are irreplaceable. People like Mom and Dad, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and some (alright, all) of my cousins are few and far between in this world.

Comeback Mom

In the midst of my January blahs, I've also had good reason to celebrate.

First, and certainly most important, is the fact that I am honestly and truly happy. I don't know if I've ever been able to say this with certainty before - and inspite of the general blahness of the past few weeks, I am at peace with myself more than ever. Sure, there are things I'd like to change but all in all, I'm in a good place.

I know who I am. I know what I want. I'm on the road to making my dreams become a reality and I've made some of them come true already. I believe fiercly in the importance of setting goals and holding onto our dreams. I let some of my dreams go in the past, and I've just managed to catch up to them again. Want in on the dream? Check it all out here.

I can still hear the snide remarks, feel the hurt from the blows that told me no one would want to read what I write so I stopped writing. Don't we all do that from time to time? We let the negativity of others beat us down. Have you?

Well, I think it's time for you to have your Comeback.

Boring Day

We survived Christmas.

In truth, it was highly unlikely that I wouldn't make it through the day but it was a real fear for me nonetheless. After spending the better part of the last two months almost totally alone, being around family was a precarious combination of stressful and relaxing, alternating between the two quicker than you can say "turkey dinner". I won't deny that I spent the entire day waiting for the phone to ring, only to disappointed (and a little bit hurt) by a text message from J that said "Merry Christmas. How did F make out?"

Mom and Dad's living room looked like Toys-R-Us and Walmart's Christmas aisle threw up in it. There were toys, presents, Christmas stockings and ornaments every where. By the time all of the presents were opened (over an hour after the commencement), you could barely tell there was a floor beneath all the torn wrapping paper and empty toy boxes. F was so excited he was, possibly for the first time ever, at a loss for words. He walked around the living room talking to everyone and looking at everyone's gifts.

I was ready for bed by mid-afternoon, and exhausted by the time I'd finished my turkey dinner. F's joy was fading into a sour mood, and my patience was all but gone. When we settled into bed, F with his new toys and me with my new Kobo, it took about ten minutes for us both to conk out. I was more than a little happy to wake up today and to know that Christmas is over, at least for another year.

I laid in bed this morning thinking of all the presents I had found under the tree yesterday, how generous my family had been. I thought of how blessed I am to have the love and support of my parents, and how incredibly blessed I am to have a healthy, happy little boy to spend my days with. In the midst of his meltdown last night, I had lost my temper and reached the end of my rope and I regretted it this morning.

So many mothers were without their children yesterday. So many mothers would have given anything to have a meltdown take place in the middle of Christmas dinner or to have their child stick their tongue out at them and be saucy as she was getting his jacket on him.

The best gift of all was bouncing off the walls yesterday, not wrapped neatly under the tree.