That Darn Cloister!

Mother.
Woman.

I think back on the night I chose that name sometimes. I was a very troubled working mom then. And, well, I still am.

I was coming from a meeting the other day, running crazy from one spot to another and thinking about how soft I am, a little afraid of my boss, worried that my performance would be sub-par again. Ah, ruminations on my careerly flibberty-gibbetness. I am a sexist twit. (or is that an 'a'?) I have always really felt that when it comes to work I don't know the concept of doing a woman's job. I instead to do a skirt-sporting, derivative version of a man's performance. I won't hide my measure of shame for that.

You know I come from a pretty soft space, terrified of(or otherwise distanced from) being one of the womyn. Being a mother has troubled that. I found in being a mother a fierceness and a duty so all-consuming it should be a highway to productivity and success. And, yet it suggests some other way, filled with an inexhaustible supply of authority, control, strength and intelligence, but only in that space apart.

What a rip.

Draft Email

Dear Friend

We hope that we can find the time to do something special together this holiday. We will have an open house on nth day, please come.

I'll add here that in keeping with our household fascination with retail decline in the new economy we hope you will consider forgoing any gift purchases for us this Christmas. The kids will likely craft some construction paper masterpiece or maybe a cookie or two to exchange with you as gifts this year but we will not be doing a lot of Christmas shopping. Please don't buy us stuff or worry about presents for us. Thanks so very much for all you give us everyday just by being our friends.

Happy Holidays!
mo-wo, p-man, miss fancy and baby-guy