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We went to the pool last weekend. My daughter has always been a fish. She’s been swimming since she was an infant and has always loved it. I don’t think I ever taught her to go underwater, she just always could. She wowed the lifeguards with her butterfly stroke and I just wondered where she ever learned that and when did she get so strong?

My youngest decided he was going to learn to dive. He’s a decent swimmer — but better underwater than above. He’s so skinny that he doesn’t float very well. He set himself up on the side of the pool and tipped forward — a lovely beginner’s dive. He then walked around the pool and after just a little bit of encouragement jumped off the diving board. He was so proud (so was I) — and his older brother was jealous!

Moments later the middle one was on the edge of the pool, trying to convince himself to dive in. He was scared but didn’t want his little brother to be able to do something he couldn’t! Watching his brother going into the water head first just a few more times was all it took. Within fifteen minutes they looked like they’d been doing it all their lives.

As tough as life is, I have to remember that these are amazing kids. They are strong and healthy and can do incredible things. That makes me pretty lucky.

I know a little girl who yells a lot.

She fights with passion (and volume). The last really big one I overheard got me to feeling jealous. I was startled by my reaction — usually I just try and block out the noise and hold tight until it’s over (and then take something for the headache). But the last time, there was no where else to go. The sound followed me to basement and garage and since I couldn’t get away I figured at least I may as well be in my office where I could try and do some work.

I have no idea what the fight was about. It’s not important. What was significant was that this young person felt she’d been dealt an injustice and she wasn’t going to accept it. Listening to her go back and forth it was obvious that she held a different position, believed in her position, believed the other person would listen to her and consider her position, and believed that she could make a difference and thereby change her future.

There is an incredible amount of hope in her position. Maybe because she is young, maybe because of who she is, maybe because she hasn’t yet had that hope taken away. Maybe something else. I think a lot of women gave up that hope a long time ago. Too many years of being disrespected, being told we were not entitled to a voice, position, power. Compounded by messages of being a ‘proper lady’ and which of us has a chance?

The tag line to the Women’s Studies undergrad program I finished last year is “find your voice”. I don’t think I really found my voice — or if I did I’ve lost it already. Being assertive requires confidence that your position is valid and believing that you will be heard. Constructing a strong argument can be learned in school, but trust? Not likely.

Many years ago I shared a house with 4-6 other adults (people came, people went). We shared a fridge, dishes, and kitchen appliances and the deal was that we’d each contribute to the common expenses (like toilet paper) and took turns on the chores like cleaning the bathroom, sweeping the floors, vacuuming, and doing the dishes.

There was one roommate who seemed to stretch her contribution as thin as was tolerable. Her turn to buy toilet paper usually meant she stole some from public bathrooms. Sometimes rolls of sandpaper-y stuff, sometimes a stack of those little individual squares. When it was her turn for dish duty she would wash some dishes, but never all. When she was done, the counter top would be unusable because of the dishes drying on it, and the sink would be unusable because there’d still be dishes in it. I never understood the logic of it, I just knew that whenever she was done there was still work for someone else to finish.

photo by Squonk11

She might have been using the strategy known as “if I do a really lousy job they won’t want me to do it next time.” Or maybe she thought hers was a legitimate contribution. It drove the rest of us crazy. There’s something about false helping. When you’ve done something, no matter how small, no one can criticize you for not helping. My roommate did in fact do some dishes. It’s just that her helping required the rest of us to do extra work. At her turn to clean the kitchen, we knew that who ever went in there next would get stuck finishing the job.