Nouns Have Gender. People Have Sex.

At some point in the past twenty-seven months, someone conditioned our daughter to ascribe different roles to Mama and Daddy on the basis of gender. If you're lucky, that sentence makes no sense to you. If, however, you had the misfortune of sitting through some aspect of contemporary feminist theory in school, then you're familiar with the asinine position that I was so wittily mocking.

Some yahoos would have you believe that the roles that we consider men's or women's are ascribed by society, rather than naturally belonging to one sex or another. That's why feminists (successfully) campaigned to replace the word "sex" with "gender" in our national discourse; gender is a property of language, which humans can make and remake, while sex is something that you can change only with some very expensive surgery. Call something a gender difference, and you imply that it exists only because somebody decided that it should, and that it can change if enough people think differently.

I digress because there's nothing like raising a child to teach you that the thinking outlined above is utter horseshit. The differences between men and women are inherent and immutable. This is something even a two-year old could tell you--if she could pronounce her S's. Gender is something that nouns have; people have sex.

To say that Siena perceives a difference in the child-rearing capacities of Mama and Daddy would be like saying that Charlie Weis perceives the differences in opposing defenses. Our little girl knows that her parents are not interchangeable, and when she doesn't get enough of one or the other, she lets you know.

Furthermore, Siena most definitely needs Mama more than Daddy. If you don't believe me, then you should've been around when Nanan was here with Baby Jasmine, Siena's cousin. All Mama had to do was hold her niece for a minute and Siena would rush over and bawl until she was in Mama's arms as well. At least Siena didn't try to kick her cousin out of Mama's arms! Daddy, however, could hold the Panchen Lama in his arms and Siena wouldn't notice. In fact, Daddy is definitely listed as third on Siena's depth-chart, behind Mama and the next senior maternal caregiver available. Depending on the situation, that number-two spot could be Nanan, Maw-Maw, or GranMary (and if those names don't make sense to you, then you must be in one of those normal families, with aunts and grandmothers and such).

Occasionally Daddy gets some respect. For example, when Nanan visited she was minding Jasmine and Siena while Daddy got some work done (I didn't say that this deal was all bad). BUt when Jasmine got fussy and required Nanan's full attention, Siena didn't take long to stand up and announce "I go get my Daddy," and run into my office. But those moments are few and far between.

So you can imagine how difficult this weekend was. You see, this was the last weekend of final exams for Mama, and she needed every available hour to crank out two daunting take-home exams. So Daddy couldn't just occupy Siena during Saturday and Sunday; he had to keep her out of Mama's presence all day, both days, 'cause given the choice Siena would much rather hang with Mama than Daddy.

I managed to do well for about five hours each day. Saturday we did the Long Beach Aquarium and Sunday we hit the beaches in Santa Monica (yes, my brethren back east, we went to the beach during Advent. That's how we roll). I managed not to lose SIena, and she actually enjoyed herself. But I was traumatized by the logistics of going to the bathroom with my daughter present; thankfully I could turn the stroller away and maintain a modicum of decorum. And of course, once we got home, the last thing that Siena wanted to do was leave Mama again. And this evening, with all but one test to go and some down time on her hands, Mama was eagerly monopolized by her love-starved little girl.

Now, am I bitter about this blatant discrimination? Not really. Daddy can't replace Mama, no more than any other father can replace the mother of his children. Sure, it's frustrating when circumstances force you to be both parents to your child, even for something as minor as a day at the beach. And you can bet your sweet bippy that I'll milk those frustrations for some quality blog fare. But this disaprity is not the construct of a patriarchal society; it's the way of the world, and all the gender studies courses in the world can't change that. If you don't believe me, then ask Siena.

P.S.: Some of you have commented on the number of typographic errors in my entries. Those are not mistakes; they are character. You get true, raw, unfiltered blogness, from the top of my head straight to your desktop. Enjoy.