Generally speaking, I am not very sexist. I can take out trash, kill bugs and change a tire with the best of 'em. A man who can cook, sew and/or read a bedtime story to a sleepy child is all man in my book.
There are, as there almost always are, exceptions, however. Like birth. And death. Those tend to be women's work. I am, of course, painting with a broad brush here. I have known men who are amazing in both situations. I know women who are not. Hell, when it comes to the birth part, I'm the last person you want in a birthing room. Let me pace and smoke outside with the guys and I'm at my best. Generally, though...well, there's a reason we're known as steel magnolias down south where I come from. It takes a different kind of strength to deal with birth. And death.
And when they happen almost simultaneously... I have asked my grandmothers, all three of them and the epitome of the steel magnolia, to wrap her up, to be part of the host that welcomes her home. I will do what I can to be a friend to her aunt. To see her aunt through the grief. To assure her aunt the love is not ever something that will be "gotten over." Because there is nothing else I can do. And sometimes nothing is women's work, too.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
2 comments:
"and sometimes nothing is women's work too."
Nicely written. I hope when I need someone to do anything or nothing, they are just like you.
Well, I am eternally greatful that you were in my waiting room (almost 3000 miles away) when I needed you. I never would have made it to the delivery part without you that night. In my darkest hour (and this says something) your strength pulled me out of the abyss. btw to my knowledge cpt pookie has still not forgiven the medical staff that put me through all that. I wonder if they should be nervous?
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