"What Will You Do Next?"

I have no idea.

This is why the decision to close my store, Sprout, has been such a hard one. Because I don't exactly have the answer to that question, which, of course, everyone and their mother and grandmother and favorite auntie is asking me. Each time I am reminded that I'm not exactly in a financial position to not have an answer to that question. *Gulp*

Okay, so there are other - many other - reasons the decision was hard. Being a business owner, especially the Owner of Sprout, has been part of my life and identity for the past 8 years. That's mind-boggling to wrap my head around and when I think about the ups and downs and fun and struggles and absolute pride and joy that role has brought me, I get a little verklempt.

Good times were had by all. Like...ALL. 

With that, Sprout has also been a part of my kids' lives for the past 8 years. My daughter is 8 years old, so you do the math. For her the store is like her third arm, which I will soon be chopping off...wish me luck with that one. For my son, the store is like his second little sister- a fun new thing that came into his life shortly after his actual, real-life sister was born. He got to play there and Sprout gave him presents and clothes and playmates. He has spent hours entertaining the small children of my customers with peek-a-boo, Lincoln Log engineering and general affectionate cooing over their adorableness. He has spent many an afternoon cuddling on the couch with our fat old lazy lovable store cat, Macy.

Oh, shit. Macy.

"please keep the little humans away, merrrrr"

Before I'd made the decision to close, I'd noticed Macy becoming less tolerant of being chased by enthusiastic toddlers around the shop, and I mentioned to the kids that maybe it was time to let someone adopt her so she could have a more peaceful retirement. This, to say the least, did NOT go over well. Evie protested strongly that this was a bad idea, whereas Jonah just...burst into tears. So she remained at the shop and now, well, now - dammit now I have a double-whammy of devastation for them: Sorry kids, no more extra arm/sibling AND no more snuggles with Macy.

Okay, so I don't yet know exactly what I'm going to do in terms of 'When There is No More Sprout.' Yet. But I do know what I'm going to do to help ease the disgruntlement of breaking the news to my kids...

Ice Cream, anyone?

It worked before, it can work again!

Best Babysitter Ever!!!

When I woke up this morning, I picked up my phone to look at the time, and then this happened:

Now, let me start off by saying that Mikey has never, ever asked me to babysit his kids before, because he knows me better. The fact that he thought my being at work was a good time to test the success of trying out this fun new idea was questionable to me, but he didn't take my hint and a few minutes after I arrived, they showed up. 

I don't know what Mike is talking about when he says it's tough to wrangle two little kids at once - psh, it's a breeze! First, I stuck them in the corner of the play area:

They loved it!

Then I decided to let Liam do some drawing. He was delighted and when I said "are you drawing a picture for your daddy?" he said "Mommy. Mommy!" When I told Mike about it later, he said "I'm pretty sure he likes her better than me." Clearly this is true.

Screw you, dad!

While I was getting Liam set up, Finn escaped from the play area - those little legs are super fast, I'll give Mike that one. He then found and fell in love with the one toy responsible for the majority of body issues women developed as young girls: Barbie. Sorry, future girlfriends of Finn, this one's on me.

Oooooooooh!!

And a horse! With a tail!

I'M IN LOVE!!

In the time it took me to capture this precious memory on iphonefilm, I lost Liam. This is a pretty bad thing to do when you're watching a friend's kids, but I figured since Mike didn't give me enough notice to buy some leashes, I wasn't actually at fault. Still, I got a little worried. I looked everywhere I could think of but couldn't find him anywhere!

Where is he?!

I finally found him. He'd been inside the clothing rack the whole time! Ha!! Kids. 

He helped me pick all that up, FYI

Then the boys discovered every kid's favorite place to play at Sprout. No, it isn't the play area, and it isn't wherever Macy is trying desperately to sleep and avoid children. It isn't with all of the toys - or any of the toys for that matter.

It's behind the counter, where all of my precious worky things are.

Busted!

I decided it was time for some fresh air, so we all went outside to water the plants. It turns out Finn loves plants and being outside, where he can jump off of, and on to, and off of, and on to, and off of, and on to the curb. After sniffing some flowers and doing lots of jumping, I suggested we go back inside. Liam walked in peacefully like the perfectly obedient little charge that he was, but Finn wasn't so into the idea.

"Nooooooooo."

I finally lured him in with promises of Barbie's undying love, at which point he and his brother proceeded to trash the place:

Ima fuck up this sign!

Ima throw all the toys on the floor!

Ima shake this shit out of this machine!

We had a GREAT time together! Best of all, Mikey paid me with cheese enchiladas from Taco Grande! Not that I could eat it right away since he decided to tell me a story about how after he'd dropped off the boys he'd had to rush home to use the bathroom because he'd been really backed up lately and had eaten a bag of prunes with 2 cups of coffee for breakfast and boy had that ever worked! Needless to say that made me lose my appetite because poop stories are inappropriate and gross.

Finn, creating a poop story of his own...

All in all, last-minute babysitting in my store while also working and trying to take care of customers worked out fairly well. This time. But just so we're clear - NO, I am NOT available to babysit your kids. Have a nice day!

Let Them Wear Pink!

I'm standing here at the counter at Sprout, and I'm getting a tad disgruntled because Google is not being my friend right now.

I carry a great t-shirt line called Rock n' Roll babies, which has fun images on organic cotton shirts, all designed and printed in San Francisco. Sadly, they've gone out of business.

My son's favorite shirt, until he outgrew it

They had one t-shirt in particular that I was eager to re-order. My customers always love it, and I've been proud to carry it in my shop where I encourage fuzzy gender role definition and have happily sold nail polish to boys and toy tool sets to girls, because, um, who cares? The shirt was pink and read: "Boys Can Wear Pink."

In doing a quick search for an alternative, I found an underwhelming selection, and far too many blogs and discussions about whether its even 'okay' for people to dress their sons in pink in the first place. Needless to say, it ruffled my feathers. Why is this even a discussion in 2014? Sure, that's mostly a rhetorical question because while I am lucky enough to live my life in an accepting way and surround myself with other open-minded, tolerant people who care more about their children's happiness and emotional well-being than in carrying forward archaic and ill-advised 'rules' that someone told them in preschool, I realize that there are a lot of people outside my bubble who don't feel the same.

The first story to come up in my search for more pink shirts was called "Should Little Boys Wear Pink?" to which I say, duh, why not? However, the blog is very Catholic-y, so frankly it's what I would expect to find there. In it, the author sites another blog post which she disagrees with, and while I also wasn't surprised to find that one at Salon.com, I was shocked and saddened by the uber-hateful, angry comments that poor guy got. Yikes.

I'd like the authors of both to know that they seem like very nice people and I respect that we are all entitled to our own opinions. The fact that we've created this platform with which to express our thoughts shows that we are confident in those opinions, regardless of whether others agree or not.

One thing from that first post I did not agree with, among others, was this statement: "Any dad who wonders if his sons are naturally more active and aggressive creatures than their sisters should spend an afternoon watching them play. Here’s a hint: There won’t be many tea parties."

Erm...really? You don't think so? Huh.

First of all, Paulie's son spent countless hours as a child playing with and intricately arranging his tea set. I'd venture to say it was his most prized toy. I've met roughly a bajillion little boys in my day between my business and, well, my life, so I can say with confidence that he's not the only boy I know who loves himself a play cuppa. So seriously, with that statement, puhlease. Perhaps you're not seeing it because boys in your circle are being told they can't. Here's a hint: if you stand back and give your children a little freedom for creativity, they'll play with whatever they damn well please, and be better adjusted, more confident, compassionate adults for it.

Second of all, if you haven't already met them, allow me to introduce you to my children:

Raaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr!!!!

My daughter is the first one to reach the top of the gravel pile. She speaks her mind, fights for who and what she loves, and Takes. No. Shit. She dresses herself in anything from what can traditionally be described as 'girly', to her brother's beloved hand-me-downs because, again, who cares? And nobody gives her a hard time when they see her wielding a hammer or wearing blue cargo shorts.

My son's most long-lasting favorite color was purple. He played dress-up almost 24/7 using scarves and other crap he found around the house - sometimes he was a pirate, sometimes a mermaid, sometimes a superhero. (Yes, I said mermaid. If any of you have a problem with the fact that my son sometimes pretended he was a mermaid, I will NOT threaten to kick you in the throat - because I am not that agile. Also, I am a peaceful and loving person and I don't have time for your ridiculous noise). His favorite shirt, until it fell apart, was the afore-mentioned Boys Can Wear Pink t-shirt. So when I saw one of the comments found on the above linked blog, I laughed out loud:

"This past weekend, hubby took the family out to dinner at a local pizza parlor.  While seated, hubby sees this a little boy, approximately 10 yrs. old wearing a pink shirt emblazoned with:  “Tough enough to wear pink!”

Hubby, turns to his 4 sons and says:  “Not on my watch!  Just try it…that boy didn’t pick out that shirt and neither did his dad.  His mom bought that.  Shame on her!”

God bless real men."

So, let me get this straight - your husband saw a kid in a public place (i.e. none of his business) wearing a shirt he didn't like (not his kid, none of his business) and was so put-off by said shirt (because of it's...color, ahem) that he threatened his own children should they dare to wear that color in his household. He drove his point home by not only shaming the child, but also the child's mother (based on his own assumptions), in front of his sons. And you, wife of hubby, are proud of this behavior and the lessons it is teaching your four sons in what it means to be a 'real man'.

Wow. Thank both your god and mine that I am not in your family.

What are we teaching our boys when we tell them they can't? They can't play with tea sets, can't dress up as feminine characters or even animals - ladybugs, bunnies, kittens - any of those okay? No? Okay then, moving on. They can't wear a specific color. Can I just go out on a limb here and be the one to ask WHY? Why are you so threatened by the idea of your son doing any of the above? Because guess what: all of the reasons you're coming up with right now? Those are 100% about you, and your insecurities. Maybe try keeping them to yourself.

Kids are born liking what they like. Period. Hey, one of my six brothers ran around in a purple sparkly one-piece bathing suit for an entire summer as a kid and sews for a living now, and he's a confident, well-adjusted, totally hetero dude - and if he wasn't, who cares? Another one did the majority of the cooking and childcare in our household and grew up to be a super-tough Marine. They turned out fine, you guys. Settle down.

When my son walked into my shop and first saw the Boys Can Wear Pink t-shirt, he eagerly asked if he could have one. I could see it in his eyes: he was feeling validated for his love of all colors, despite recently being told by some Kindergarten peers that some of those colors weren't allowed in the world of boys. How sad.

My kids know that I don't just hand out stuff from the shop to them willy-nilly. If they want things badly enough, they earn it through their behavior and by doing chores and helping around the store. That kid was hell-bent on getting himself the t-shirt and, once earned, he wore it as often as possible. 

Would you share crayons with a kid in pink?

On his first day of first grade he walked into the kitchen where I was cooking breakfast. As usual, he'd gotten himself dressed and he was beaming, proudly wearing his favorite shirt. He said "I'm going to wear my 'Boys Can Wear Pink' shirt today, so everyone at school knows it's okay for boys to wear pink!" He was so excited to to be the self-appointed bearer of a positive message to others. At this point in his young life he was not unaware or unaffected by the dark scowling under-element of insecure judgement floating around out there.

But he did want to change it. I was so freaking proud.

His decision didn't hurt anyone. He wasn't promoting violence, or hatred. He was just wearing a shirt that he really liked and told him - along with his parents, family, friends, neighbors, community - that he could wear it, if that is what he wanted to wear. So, yeah, what's the big deal, yo?

To the 'real man' dad referred to in italics above - what if that kid's dad did buy his son the pink shirt? What then? Or if his mom bought it, maybe it was at his request - how is that hurting you? Because what I'm seeing here is that the kid in pink has a much higher level of social intelligence and love of humankind than you -- you, the God-fearing Christian who chooses to threaten his sons should they try wearing a color you don't approve of -- could ever dream of. Yes: a child is more evolved than you. Congratulations.

Rant over.

Oh, and to anyone who might suggest that I, as his mother, am responsible for my son feeling comfortable wearing pink as a young kid but he would 'know better' by now, sorry to tell you this but he still wears whatever the heck he wants to, and he couldn't give a hoot about what you think, so go find some other completely undeserving person to judge and bully. You are disappointingly adept at it.

Super-rad pink & purple tie-dye tank
made lovingly for him by his sister

On another note - does anyone want to make a cool new 'Boys Can Wear Pink' t-shirt for my shop? I know a couple of kids who'd love one.