hiding in the kitchen
So I actually wrote this post back on June 12, when the whole Iowa flooding began and it sat in unpublished land until I remembered it today.
Something about hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes and floods makes me want to take up knitting. Oh and baking. Not to mention get hitched, have a couple kids, stay at home and have my hubby protect me. It’s not like I carry around a copy of “the second sex” with me, but I do fancy myself an independent, strong-willed, albeit lipstick-and-heels sort of feminist.
In that light, my response to these natural disasters has shocked me. I’ve second guessed my most important dreams and have considered getting a move on with the whole family starting thing. It’s preposterous, ridiculous, absurd, maybe scary? Ultimately that’s what it came to. I am scared. Mortified even. This fear has started the old Stepford gene a’firin and God knows how long it will be until I start showing up at your door with a freshly baked pie, chiding you for not taking good enough care of your husband (it’s a wife’s primary responsibility, you know).
After the 9/11 attacks, the whole country seemed to go through the same thing. I was so angry when it happened. Suddenly all the TV shows were about marriage and having babies. All our fabulous, empowered Lilith-fair types were gone, traded in for pregnant celebs and plastic surgery shows. Skirts replaced pantsuits and frills made their way back into fashion. We were losing ground. My friends wanted to be trophy wives. I thought everyone had gone nuts.
But now, sitting here, contemplating whether to pack up my valuables and clear out the fridge in case the power gets cut, I get it. I understand the urge to find a man who will protect and support you entirely. A man who will shelter me from all of these disasters. If I take no risks, I won’t get hurt, right? But that’s simply untrue. Earthquakes, hurricanes, floods, tornadoes; these things don’t discriminate based on socioeconomic status. That’s why I have to use this fear and power forward in hopes of making everyone a little stronger, a little more prepared, a little more likely to survive.
Although, I’m not gonna lie, it would be pretty sweet to not have to worry about the whole “money” or “job” thing. Anyone know any cute surgeons? Web 2.0 millionaires? I swear I’ll only use the extra time and cash towards forming our own nonprofit! Especially if it’s based someplace warm…
Who to call when you have a funky disease…
Dear developmental psychology prof,
Thanks! You remember the other day when you were lecturing on ADD? You said something like this:
The best emergency room doctor you can have if you’ve got a weird problem is one with ADD.
You went on to talk about how an ADD ER doctor works best under high pressure and extraordinary situations where a lot of creativity and exploration into the issue is required. You also said that otherwise an ADD doctor would probably not be ideal.
So yeah, prof– I have ADD. Not in the whole “man I’m so scatterbrained today” kind of way. More like the whole “man that chick is smart but half the time she’s an idiot” sort of way. Or “I just spent 2 hours looking for my wallet that is in the freezer and am subsequently a half hour late for work ” sort of way.
But it’s also the “holy crap that was brilliant where did that come from” and “man that was fast! How’d she solve that ridiculously difficult problem in such a short time frame?” sort of way.
So yeah. Thanks for reminding me of the upshot. Here’s to hoping you and yours encounter an ADD doc when coming down with the new bubonic plague. Of course, you guys would probably come out fine, but my kind would most likely forget their facemasks.
-me
