Pammymcb

Warning, a poem written by the late Jenny Joseph is not only an ode to anti-conformity, but it is also the praise of the strength that many women have but do not show due to the social restraints put on them by a conformist society. Joseph's words remind me of all of the words my grandmother raised me on. Could it be that both women were born during the same year that they had a lot of the same ideals? Perhaps Grandma had read Joseph's poetry and that inspired her way of living, but I do not think that is a true statement. Beyond both women's poetry, they both had a strength that resonated through their lives.

Warning reminds me how to continue to live my life in the manner that I had been taught to live. I will always remember Grandma telling me to not worry so much about what others thought, and because of that, I have found myself embracing anti-conformity throughout my entire life. Furthermore, I have passed that lifestyle down to my children as well.

I am not saying shun the rules of society all together, for chaos is never the answer to anything. I am, however, saying do not allow society to dictate who you are supposed to be. Do not only think outside of the box, but be so dynamic in your thinking that you break the box wide open. Do not only dance to the beat of a different drummer, but continue to dance feverishly when the drummers have gone silent. Our choices are ours alone, and we should live each and every single day as if there is no other. Take risks and truly be yourself. Have fun and enjoy life. It is when we allow others to define us that we find our own complete and utter misery. So, to Jenny and Grandma, I will continue to run my stick along the public railings, and I may stop long enough to create a new beat on my own drum. I will not wait until I am an old woman. 

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph
05.07.1932-01.08.2018

Making decisions is not always my strong suit; so naturally, when I found it, I knew that I had to buy it. It has become one of my favorite things to keep around when I feel like doing absolutely nothing at all and sometimes even when I go out. It has become my one, my only, favorite white tank top with the most wonderful phrase that sums me up perfectly, "PRETTY GOOD AT MAKING BAD DECISIONS."

Bad decision number one, buying a white shirt. Seriously, do I not even know myself anymore? I have spilled ink, paint, chocolate, and soda on this shirt. This amazing shirt has spent more time soaking than on my body. Now do you understand why I almost always wear black? It is so much easier to hide stains on a black shirt.

Bad decision number two, getting half way to the truck before realizing that I had on a black bra with my coveted white shirt. It is a good thing that I had a jacket on. Otherwise, I would have gotten more stares than what I had. Hey, at least I even had a bra on! By the way, did I tell you it is an acid washed material? No bra could have been absolutely catastrophic.

Bad decision number three, hugging Killer while wearing a white shirt. Killer has really soft fluffy black fur, so now, I have a really soft fluffy black fur shirt that is supposed to be white. Oh, my! The lint screen is going to be completely full on this shirt alone. It is almost as bad as hugging Princess when I wear black. Princess is my son's Siamese cat.

Bad decision number four, knowing that my shirt has spent most of its life soaking, I decided to wear it tonight completely aware that I was going to be chowing down on Buffalo Wings and pizza. Yep, you guessed it. My shirt only got to be worn for a few hours before going back into the soak, where it sits now. The worst part is that all the guys were here tonight, and not one of them let me know that I had a streak of wing sauce just below my breasts all the way to the bottom of the shirt. It has been a couple of hours since the bright orange wing sauce decorated my awesome shirt, and the sauce ended up stiffening up the material. I really hope the cleanser works wonders. Oxygen to the rescue!

Although these are only four bad decisions, three of them are decisions that I made just after five this evening. Can you imagine what a full day must be like, let alone a week, month, or year? Hey, the way I see it is that bad decisions lead to learning experiences. Learning experiences lead to better choices. And, better choices lead to a happier life. Come on bad decisions! I can take you on.

"We're pregnant!" I am going to take this one head on. Call me 'old school,' or call me whatever you will, but this phrase makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. No honey, my husband and I, aka we, were never pregnant. I was pregnant, not him. For a matter-of-fact, we did not get pregnant twice, I did.

I know we are getting to a point in modern society to where everyone needs to feel included in everything, but let's just hash out the facts on this one. In the most simplistic terms, pregnancy is defined as follows: Of a woman or female animal having a child or young developing in the uterus. Sorry people, no uterus, no pregnancy. Only the female can get and be pregnant, sans the test tubes, experimental scientific artificial wombs, or a seahorse or other non-heterogamous animal species where parthenogenesis may occur. Therefore, a human male who was born a human male cannot get pregnant without scientific intervention. She is pregnant!

However, if you are are a father, I would like to take this time to congratulate you on providing your female counterpart the means of becoming pregnant. But, you did not become pregnant; did you? You took a few minutes (and I am sure I am being generous for allowing a few minutes for some of you) of your 24 hour day, danced your little dance, and voila, your partner is pregnant. Now, I know it is tough listening to her talk about being pregnant every day for 280 days minus the few weeks before she even realizes she is carrying a child, but that does not make you pregnant. It makes her pregnant.

Never once did DJ wake up vomiting because his body just did not want to pass his dinner on to his unborn child, or just because that is just what his body felt like doing at the time. He did not have to wake up with tears in his eyes because he rolled over on his swollen breasts which shot nauseating pain through his upper torso. DJ never had to worry about not being able to see his feet because his belly protruded out three times what it did before conception. He did not receive stretch marks from the skin being pulled so tight that it felt as if it were going to split. Not once did he have to deal with the pain of swollen feet and ankles, nor did he cry at the drop of a hat. I never saw DJ waddling from room to room, and girls, you know what I am talking about. As much as we don't want it, all pregnant women waddle. Also, I never remember DJ having to be put on bed-rest because something was just a little out of whack. He still got to work! He still got to drive, walk, go to the store, and play with our child. I am sorry to disappoint. DJ did not become pregnant. I did.

I do realize that it must be hard for the significant other to sit and wait for their child to be born, but that does not make you pregnant. I know, because I have heard it from many of them, that they feel it is unfair that they do not get to feel the first flutters of life or feel the first full on kick. Hey did you know there are devices that can mimic that now? Anyway, that does not make you pregnant.

DJ and I got me pregnant together, and we were in the pregnancy together; but I was the only one who was pregnant. I am not trying, nor would I ever try, to minimize his role in the situation. My body needed for him not to be pregnant, and his role was a great role, as I needed a provider. I needed him to make sure that I had the food to feed my unborn child. I needed him to rub my back because the extra weight was wearing me down. I needed him to make me feel better when I would cry uncontrollably over Keebler's Grasshoppers or Three's Company. I needed him to help me bathe and prop up my swollen feet, and I needed him to hold my hair while I dry heaved over the toilet.

So, non-gestational partners believe me, you are not pregnant; nor do you want to be. You need to be what your partner needs you to be. Be the steadfast partner, and take responsibility by showing her that you will take care of her when she is feeling absolutely miserable. Provide for her. Love her, and hold her. She is the one who is pregnant; and although, millions of women have been doing it since the beginning of time, pregnancy is never easy. Do not minimize the process by saying you are pregnant too.

I was born in a dust storm,
In a Texas cotton field,
In the middle of the Depression,
In the year of 32.
Seventh child to my mother,
Who had all the mouths to feed
Here I came a little sapling,
In a great big family,
Raised on cornbread, milk, and taters,
And a lot of love you see.

Mary Francis Kierepka
3/17/1932-9/28/2017

Love to Me is lost in time
A long, long time ago.
There was a happier time than this,
With faces all aglow.
I thought it would last forever
That time of love and peace.
With children around the fireside
A home of love uncested.
That time has gone forever
And trouble weighs me down.
But I thank God in Heaven,
For the happy years we found.
And the children and the Grandchildren
That will live on after me.
They are part of us forever
I love them all you see.

Mary Francis Kierepka
3/17/1932-9/28/2017