I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to raise girls. I have two girls, good girls, silly girls, loving girls, clever girls, bouncy girls.
Both times I was pregnant Matt and I decided to find out the sex of our baby. It's a girl, we heard both times, though I already knew that. Or maybe I just wanted it to be so. I also imagined that I'd be the mother of girls.
Each time I was growing a new baby girl, too many people would stop warn me about my future girls. Oh, girls are so hard to raise. They'll get you into trouble. Boys are so easy. I was over the moon about the upcoming birth of my daughters, but people were warning me, giving me that knowing look.
Ok. I've been warned.
And so I prepare myself for the tough work of girls. I school them in the fine art of tomfoolery, storytelling, and tea parties. We devote long hours to interpretive dancing, exploring, and piracy.
But mostly, we just bounce.
Girls are hard work because people are hard work. Yes, they'll face particular challenges because they are girls, but they'll face these problems because of the world we live in, not because they are girls. I'm here to stand up for my girls, and I hope I can use this space to encourage, remind, and sing the praises of not judging our children before they even have a chance to grow.