I've been thinking a lot about being a mother, and I apologize in advance for a subject that's already been run into the ground.

I can't decide whether it's empowering or demeaning, whether it's fulfilling or life-sucking, and whether it would save me or break me.

I've thought for a long time that motherhood was my calling, but all these voices started nudging their way into my brain. Offhand jokes about things that are "as useful as a mom's college degree." People telling me that having children doesn't count as an ambition. And realizing that having children is perhaps the lowest common denominator--nearly every human being seeks to pass on their genes. Can it still be a noble ambition if everyone does it? Should my most base desires really be the basis for my life goals?

But honestly, in my heart of hearts, that's really want I want. I don't seek fame or riches, and I can think of nothing more fulfilling than practicing selflessness for the sake of a vulnerable human being. And I want to find God in the everyday tasks, and I hope for it in the back of my mind every day.

"We could play Megaman upstairs in the bedroom. I will be... Hard Man."

I admit it, I'm a sucker for to do lists. The obsessive compulsive streak in me (a fairly small one, but a throwback to my childhood) is quenched by the placement of long, black checkmarks on each list item.

So, in honor of all that, here is my list of things to do today before we go out to dinner & have a couple of friends over:

• mop the kitchen floor
  
• vacuum the carpets
• vacuum the upstairs floors
• mop the upstairs floors
  
• sort the laundry
• empty the trashcans (+ litter)
• take the dirty dishes upstairs/load into dishwasher
• empty dishwasher
• clean the bathroom
  

Eh, that's probably enough.

Hmm, I think I'm acquiring a Canadian accent...

I'd tap that potential.

Today at the pool, my blood sugar went from 21 to 2.2 in a matter of one hour (with 5 units of insulin).

Just recording that hogwash for posterity.

I think I would like to pick up a good book. I want to lift it as a weight to strengthen my puny arm muscles (so I can move refrigerators).

I'm jumping up on a soapbox for a moment, though I can't imagine how that'll be effective, because I'm using one of those little individually boxed soaps--plus I took the soap out of it already, so it surely cannot bear my weight.

But let's discuss, for a moment, feminism.

I have to say, I think that some brands of "feminism" are complete hogwash. These are usually the ones touted by naïve, fresh-out-of-their-teens young women who are excited to have a cause to champion.

Let's just take a moment to distinguish two very different concepts: being equal, and being treated the same.

Now the aforementioned "feminists" have made the mistake of thinking they should be treated the same. But here's the thing: being female does not put you at total disadvantage. There are some pretty hefty perks (that's not a pun for breasts) to being a woman, so if you insist on being treated the same, you must also be willing to give up those advantages.

For example, if an intruder were to enter your house, you should be the one to confront him or her. Depending on your man, after all, would imply non-sameness. Likewise, lift your own damn furniture. And while you're at it, you must also work full time or risk your family going hungry and homeless (a pressure that single mothers know all too well).

Listen, I know there are women like that (and bravo to them!). They are the breadwinners, they can confront stronger beings who seek to hurt them, and they can lug in their new refrigerator without the help of a man. I am not one of those women. And neither are many of the young women who insist to be treated the same. They don't really want to be treated the same. They want the advantages of being a man and of being a woman.

In short, I applaud equality. But I also acknowledge the inherent differences between the sexes (at least, in most cases), and I am willing to sacrifice some manvantages (yeah, I made that word up just now) in order to keep my womanly ones. I want to be defended, I want to be able to put my job on hold to start a family, and I do not want to drag that freaking refrigerator into the kitchen. So here's to feminism that supports equality, not identicalness.

Eating a caesar salad. Feeling an inexplicable violence rising within...

Et tu, crouton?

RIP Amanda Byne's lost puppy.