Sometimes you cannot draw lines and compartments and refuse to budge beyond them. Sometimes you have to use your failures as stepping stones to success. You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair. In the end, it’s all a question of balance.
- Vasantrao Valmik
I’ve been writing a few emails lately. Long emails. Emails that explain why I write a blog, why I write what I write on my blog, why I don’t want Eliza looking to princesses and barbie dolls as ideals and why I worry about Franklin’s emotional strength.
The problem with blogs is that it is a very very small picture of someone’s life. It’s also a very small picture of someone’s thoughts. Many times, more times than not, I sit down to write something here and end up on another tangent all together. My last post was like that. I actually sat down to write about Eliza’s birthday falling on International Woman’s Day and how this seemed fitting considering her personality and my hopes for her. Instead it turned into a post about raising a boy.
Waxing on about how wonderful my life is would probably make a lot of people feel a lot more comfortable. Then again, waxing on about how rosy my life is makes a whole different section of readers send me emails about how they can’t relate to my life and question why their life seems so much harder. The thing is, my life has it’s ups and downs and when I write about the ups, I write about the ups. Sometimes I write about the downs. Sometimes I just write about things that I think about when I can’t find my glasses and my garden’s already mapped out.
To keep balance, I need to feel inspired. I try my best to feel inspired every single day. There are days when I’m not feeling it and those days… well, they suck. It doesn’t take much to inspire me though. Right now I’m designing a Bar Mitzvah invitation and learning how to use more than $25 worth of our Photoshop software. This should tell you how easy I am to please. I’m finding inspiration in my garden, in picking up garbage, in using my creativity, and in raising my children. All the things you’ve been reading about over the past year.
When I write about questioning society’s ability to create healthy boys and men it is because I want to learn how to raise my own son to be a happy person. I want him to feel good about himself and see himself the way his father and I see him – full of promise and joy. I’m not wringing my hands and pacing back and forth in the middle of the night worrying if he’s going to become the Canadian version of Columbine’s Eric Harris or Dylan Kleboldor. I’m just thinking about how to teach him inner strength. Every parent wants this for their children. My parents had huge hopes for every one of their children but guess who didn’t go to medical school because she thought she wasn’t smart enough? I need to learn about this inner strength too.