Coining Femininityism

Somewhere here in the next couple years it’s going to be time for me to write a children’s book. Or rather, a series of children’s books destined to become wildly popular for both their authenticity and their unabashed look at femininityism.

We have four daughters. People ask if we were trying for a boy. My response is usually, “No, we were trying for puppies.” This masks my annoyance that somehow I could (maybe should) be disappointed by my children’s gender. It’s also just polite because, really, those folks are just making small talk and when you have four of anything in a row it does spark a certain trend in the conversation.

“You’re really going to have your hands full in a few years.” WTF? Like I don’t already? Seriously, it’s the head count that chafes not all the X chromosomes.

Anyhow, back to me writing that book. I should write a few. Maybe go Wattersonesque on you guys with four sharp as a whip, wise beyond their years, snarky, but distinct girls that each tote around a rag doll that turns into an Amazon Warrior, Queen, Muse, or Scientist as the situations warrant. Or something more Lewisian with a lion and a closet. Or I could find some LCD and try a Carolinian trip of some kind. No worries I couldn’t and wouldn’t and shouldn’t and wontn’t go Geisel.

No really, back to the book thing.

I’ve poked around at some fairy thing a few months back. Maybe I could expand that into a more substantial vehicle. Right now they are all at such disparate developmental stages that will blur quickly with age. Has anyone ever written something interesting with four kids under five? Talk about difficult voices to develop.


In case you were wondering “femininityism” is a cross between what my ignorant brain knows of femininity and feminism. Think CEO with a ponytail or “Who the hell asked you if I look fat in this, but do I?”

Word count: 325
Day 177

Day 83: The Pixies Make Demands

Trying my hand with Windows Live Writer. I am not much of a offline blogging tool kinda guy. I would be if I weren’t as likely to be writing on one computer as the next. Google Docs isn’t too great an an online offline option either. I wonder if it had continued as Writely if we’d have seen my/better blog integration. No matter.

~’We need you to untie the balloon from the back of the chair,’~ Lavender continued. Mint squeaked something to Lavender. ~’And take it outside. And,’~ Lavender hushed Lemon’s pending request with a impatient gesture, ~’…and my yellow friend here wants some candy. The lumpy purple ones in a box.’~

I remained still though I didn’t want to. Moving my eyes around was the only muscular control they’d left me. Mint rolled her own eyes–her absurdly large Manga eyes–in disgust at my reticence. Lavender and she got into a discussion that crescendoed to an argument. Mint put her foot down and fired off a continuous string of 6’s across my open document on [something plot related here]. Lemon had clearly seen this type of thing before so just sat patiently on my knuckle. Lavender responded by flitting in a tight circle. The effort made alot of noise and sounded more like a bumble bee than the pleasant zips I’d witnessed earlier. Obviously this was the most convincing thing a pixie could say in an argument because Mint acquiesced. Though not happily.

She tromped a typo with her steps: 7 – Y – G – B – space – right click. She harumphed mounting my married-man spare tire and climbed up my chest. I expected her footfalls to be painful, like a series of toothpicks jabbed into my stomach, but the feeling reminded my more of a water strider in a still summer creek. She placed her hand on my still lips. Nothing happened, but I could once again smell her and that was nice. Then there was a zing in my lips and lower part of my face like I’d licked a battery.

My first word surprised me, “Nerds?”

Word count: 370