reading with mamawolfe: Diary of a Submissive

Posted on October 19, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

“This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, but the opinions expressed are my own.”

It’s a good thing I got a free copy of this book to review; if I paid money for it, I would have been really disappointed. One of the benefits of reviewing books for BlogHer Book Club is finding new authors and titles I wouldn’t otherwise know, so I approached Diary of a Submissive with an open mind. Knowing it was marketed as a sort of 50 Shades of Grey didn’t excite me – I’ve never read that series, and never much cared for mass-market books at all. Turns out I was right – this book just didn’t do it for me.

Diary of a Submissive starts with protagonist Sophie Morgan, a self-proclaimed “independent woman in her thirties with a successful journalism career.” The book’s abrupt shift into telling the story of her ‘sexual awakening’ absolutely defies my definition of independent – Sophie is into D/s and spends the rest of her memoir explicitly trying to convince the reader that she is a ‘modern’ woman, depsite the fact that she allows men and women to strip her of any sense of self.

Some might claim that her submissiveness shows control over her body and her choices, but to me, it takes women back decades, centuries even, to a time when women fought for equality. Reading Sophie’s story made me feel pity for her and her inability to stand up for herself.

Diary of a Submissive – don’t let the demure pearls on the cover fool you. I should have trusted my gut and stayed away from a book that didn’t grab me from the start.

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Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

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Be Yourself

Posted on October 18, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

Just imagine how many problems we could solve it we all took Emerson’s advice. I certainly see this every day in my classroom, where 13 and 14-year-olds posture and prepare themselves with the ‘right’ answer, or the appropriate reaction. I see this with adults, when they try to say the ‘right’ thing, afraid to speak their minds for fear of retribution.

We see it in the media, when celebrities do what it takes to get noticed, land the next big role or ink an endorsement contract. Have you noticed the difference between men and women who try to be themselves? It seems fine, as long as we fit into the stereotypical gender roles, but when we step out of them….labelling, here we come.

Bullies see this, too – and they pounce on those trying to find themselves, calling out what they see as weakness when if you really think about it, should be seen as strengths. They prey on the ‘unique’ kids who show up their own fears about letting their true selves shine brightly.

Voters notice who is trying to be their true selves, and we wonder if any of the sensationalism that swirls around politicians has any grain of truth at all. We see the bickering, name calling, and sometimes shallow decision making of our country and wonder if there is anyone we can really believe.

So if there is one thing we can do in our day, with our students, our children, or our friends and colleagues, I would wish that we look at each other for who we really are, not who we believe the world thinks we should be.

Just imagine what that kind of day would feel like.

Do you struggle to be yourself? Who does the world think you should be?

Jennifer Wolfe

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Ski mama

Posted on October 14, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’ve got about 35 days before my life changes dramatically. No, I’m not going to get a new job, a new house, or a new child. I’m not planning a great adventure, a big risk, or starting a new exercise program.

What I am is a ski mom, and despite only having a dusting of snow in the Sierras, my kids are aching to be back to the snow.

From November through April, I spend an extraordinary amount of time slugging around the mountains as my children test their fearlessness, hitting top speeds of 60+ mph. We drive in the dawn and dusk, spending all daytime hours on snow. Well, they are on snow. I’m mostly IN snow, lugging multiple pairs of skis, poles, gear, and bags and bags of food.

And this year, I just found out, I’ll be spending the first New Year’s Eve alone in almost 30 years – all because of skiing. Their skiing – I’m not included in this one. I’ll be home, alone, in the snow.

My family is crazy.

They come by it honestly. The ski fanaticism, that is. Their paternal great-grandparents skied before there were proper ski lifts, ‘racing’ down on wooden skis and leather boots. I fondly remember weekends spent with my dad on the slopes, and my husband raced through college. Putting our kids on skis at age three seemed a no-brainer. It turned out to be the perfect sport for them when they were young, and a great family activity. Then enter racing, ski camps, dry-land practices and coaching jobs. My family is obsessed with skiing.

Many people think I’m the one that’s crazy – why don’t I just send them on their way, and enjoy quiet times at home, or holed up in a cabin with a blanket or a good book, or at the very least, in a ski lodge with a good bar. I guess my answer is the same one that you might hear from a soccer mom, a baseball mama, or any other parent who travels around in the shadow of their athletic children.

I secretly enjoy it.

I love knowing that my kids are busy all day, every day, every weekend. They go to bed early and wake up early, keeping them out of ‘trouble’. They eat well, exercise, and get plenty of fresh air. We play card games, watch movies, and cook together every night. They have great ski friends, push themselves to do their best, and simply just have a lot of fun.

Isn’t that really what parenting is all about? These years are fleeting, and I feel the clock ticking down. Someday I just know I’ll wake up at 4 a.m. and wish I had one more drive up the hill, one more snowstorm to slosh through with them in the back seat, one more race finish to cheer them on.

So come next December 31, maybe I’ll find a great book, pop a bottle of bubbly, and toast how wonderful it is to be a mom. Honestly, I can’t think of anything better.

What crazy things do you do for your kids? What keeps you going in those moments of insanity?

Jennifer Wolfe

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Friday Photo: At the Center

Posted on October 6, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

It’s a strange feeling being here right now, at the center. There’s a certain kind of energy in the air here, right now, where it all began, where it’s all about to happen again. So many stories to hear, so many stories still yet to unfold. I stood on the rooftop tonight, looked out at the lights reflected on the Potomac and wondered. How many have been here and questioned what comes next, worried, what if. I gazed at the Lincoln, the Jefferson, the Washington, and imagined a world at once so very different from today, but yet so eerily similar. I thought of those that have come before and died at the hands of those who disagreed. I dreamed of what I could do, here right now, at the center, then turned, and walked back down.

Jennifer Wolfe

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The Hardest Age

Posted on October 2, 2012 by Jennifer Wolfe

If you ask a parent of a newborn what’s the hardest age – babies or teens, I’d bet that they’d say babies. I probably would have myself. I couldn’t imagine anything more life changing than a colicky baby, screaming to be held, nursed, changed…you name it.

If you ask a parent of a toddler what’s the hardest age – toddlers or teens, they’d probably agree it was toddlers. Who wouldn’t agree that parents chasing around tippy, bobble headed two- year-olds and temper-tantrum throwing three year olds would want to change places with parents of sixteen-year-olds any day.

But if you ask me, I’d say parenting at any age has its challenges and absolute head shaking, I can’t-believe-this-is-my-life moments. I’m in one of those moments right now.

I am the parent of a sixteen-year-old licensed driver.

Somehow, I survived the torture of teaching her driving basics. Upon close inspection, I’m sure you could see the fingernail imprints left in the passenger seat’s armrest. Surely, I wore down the floor mats with my impulse-ridden imaginary braking. I guess I did something right, because she passed her behind-the-wheel test on the first try.

Adding her to our auto insurance policy wasn’t even that bad-I suppose parents of teenage boys have it worse in that regard. She took care of all of that herself, bought a new wallet to carefully display her new photo id, and even got a lanyard to responsibly clip her/our car keys onto. She hardly begs to drive the three blocks to her high school, and still rides her bike to the gym.

What do I have to complain about?

Nighttime. It terrifies me. It’s my baby, driving in the dark, alone-or worse-with other teens. It’s the parents who bow out of the pack and allow their teens to break the new law that forbids teens to drive their friends in the first year of their licensing. It’s the “I’ll be home before 11:00 p.m.” speech. Frankly, it’s every time I see her back out of the driveway and scrape the front end of our Prius against the sidewalk. Sheer terror.

It’s not that I don’t trust her-she has never given me reason not to. It’s not that I worry she’s going to get a ticket, drive drunk, or take off on a spontaneous road trip.

No, really what terrifies me about having a teenage driver is the same thing that made me lose sleep when she was a newborn, and collapse from exhaustion when she was three. It’s that overwhelming, mind-numbing, head shaking, I-can’t-believe-this –is-my-life feeling. It’s love. All-consuming, overwhelming, turn-me-into-a-fierce-protector kind of love. And watching her drive away breaks off a little bit of my heart every time.

Jennifer Wolfe

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