The New Civil War

It has taken me decades to like country music. Used to be, I would never admit I was from the South. In the long-standing teenage tradition, I was embarrassed. I removed myself from all things southern. I cultivated a neutral accent. I claimed to like only Erasure and The Cure. I went to school in the east and pretended to be appalled by Crisco.

Now things are a little more complex. I love Sugarland and Rascal Flatts and can finally admit this openly. I adore Crisco and often use it as a dipping sauce. (Kidding.) I miss the doors held open for me, the tissues offered when I sneeze, and so on. I miss being able to freely admit to the occasional desire to shoot someone and not have a scad of white liberals handcuff me for it. These little things. On the other hand, I'm not sure I understand southern queers. I've noticed among my Facebook friends, the ones living in the south seem to expect a lot less from their politicians. They (the southern queers) all seem to think Obama loves gay people. From here, it seems like he pretty much hates us. It's a complex topic, and I'm certainly not an expert. I just wanted to comment on how the issue divides along the Mason-Dixon line.

B tells me that when I'm angry, I have a drawl. She takes cover when she says this, because she knows better than to provoke me and then stick around.

We've been fighting lately, probably because she's been traveling so much. In the middle of one fight, I asked her to do something. In the long-standing tradition of fights, it seemed crucial at the time, but I no longer have any idea what it was. She said that she couldn't do it. "YEW CAIN'T OR YEW WON'T?" I shrieked, looking for something to throw. I would never actually throw anything. I've been in too much therapy. Besides, I couldn't have hit her; she was in Kansas City. But nobody can stop me from looking! Still, she resisted doing the thing. Finally, I said, "Well, sum people maht lahk tu du it! Ah could walk out on 355 and take off mah top, and ah'm shur ah'd have sevrul voluntee-urs." Again, I would never actually do a strip tease on the side of a highway, but I'm an expert at proving my point by threatening to do Things I Would Never Do. This is just one example of ways in which I am a Myriad of Contradiction (as infuriating as I am desirable), an enigma wrapped inside a mystery, and so on and so forth. It is exhausting, truly, to be as complex and nuanced as I am. I hope that B appreciates it!

Ari's potty-training prize--he could have
chosen anything, but, in typical Ari-fashion,
he picked this $4.99 Magic Mic.

B and I, through our time together, have been engaged in a war. It is a Stubbornness Competition. This was going swimmingly for years, because I was winning. Then Ari was born. He was colicky. Then he was Spirited. Now, he is Strong Willed. You cannot bend him. It doesn't work. He potty trained himself. Our attempts were met with mocking examples of his complete control over his bodily functions and his expressions of unwillingness to put things anywhere other than where HE deemed appropriate. I had given up so utterly and been so thoroughly schooled that I was happily envisioning his wearing a diaper to college. Once Ari realized I felt this way, he finally started pooping in the potty. And just like when he first peed on the potty in late March, he hasn't had an accident since.

Then there is the issue of the big boy bed, where I expected him to cry endless torrents and never sleep again. So, naturally, he was so excited about it that he forces me to put him to bed at 6:15 (Ack!) and smiles and giggles anytime he sees it.

Expressing his true feelings about his big boy bed

Ari is such a mastermind at being a Myriad of Contradiction that I'm sure he's genetically related to both B and me. I think that the sperm donor and the IUIs were just subterfuge for the immaculate conception that is my son, that somehow B got me pregnant. I know it's not possible, but then where did he get her mile-long eyelashes? And how does he know to mumble "no" and pout so passionately at every social nicety before 11:00 am? And how oh how oh how did he get so stubborn?