No, not me. I didn't say "who," I said "what." I am not a thing. Stop objectifying. 

What's awesome is when you write something you feel is important and it gets picked up by a network that reaches way more people than you could alone. That's what happened this week when BlogHer syndicated my post on letting Spawnling wear nail polish. I couldn't be happier. 

I even got a shiny new badge:

Anyway, we need to normalize differences. Which, when I think about it, is the oxymoron of the century. But that's really what it comes down to, isn't it? Everyone is trying to fit in, but we shouldn't have to do it at the expense of who we are. In an ideal world that would be easy, but anyone who's survived 8th grade knows you're going to have to pretend a little if you don't want to get harassed a lot. 

This is not acceptable. It might be the way it is, it might be the current reality, but that's not OK. Our society has come a long way towards acceptance and tolerance, but we still have a long way to go. It takes those who dare to be different to change minds. 

I couldn't be prouder of my six-year-old son, who insists on being one of them.

Of course, there's the fear of intolerance; the teasing and taunting and ostracizing that can come with standing out. I suffered what many would deem an extreme amount of bullying when I was a child, and the scars it left are as immense as the pile of chocolate I eat when I'm sad. That weighed on my mind a lot the day my boy went to school with nail polish on. And from the feedback I've received from other parents who read my post, this is their biggest worry as well. 

I'm pleased to say that Spawn totally rocked that polish for many days, with no negativity whatsoever. I attribute that in part of the great kids in his class and the parents who raise them, as well as the supportive environment fostered in his school by all who work there. Oh, and then there's my little rockstar. You can't help but love him with all his flare and monster attitude to match. 

He's so like his mama. But, you know, not as modest.

Even though everything went smoothly for Spawn, I know that's not always the case. Right now, there's a girl being picked on in a schoolyard for not wearing pink, or for liking "boy" games. There's a little boy who's being mocked because he has sparkly shoes or brought a My Little Pony for show and tell. And if they grow into outcast teens who struggle with depression or, heaven forbid, try to take their own lives, we have failed them.

We can't sit around and say "that's just the way it is." Let's educate and enlighten ourselves so we can educate and enlighten our kids. I hope this post has helped get more people thinking and talking - at least a little.  

And so, may I send a huge thank you to Jenna Hatfield at BlogHer, and to everyone who's read, Facebooked, retweeted, emailed, yelled, yodelled, flash mobbed, and skydived naked with a parachute that says: MAVEN IS HAWT AND YOU SHOULD TOTALLY CHECK OUT HER BLOG POST ON GENDER STEREOTYPES.

No idea how that would all fit on a parachute, honestly.

And since we're talking about how hot I am normalizing differences and following up on things, let's discuss my tattoo for a minute, which got a ridiculous amount of attention this week. 

That post enjoyed so many hits it signed up for an S&M convention. I guess getting my alter ego tattooed on my flesh is something worth checking out; if anything, just to see if I was crazy enough to do it. Keep on creepin' on, creepers. I'm glad you like it. Or hate it. Or whatever is making you look. It's healing really well, I might add. I'll take better pics when it's done flaking (barf.)

If you dig my tattoo and live in or around Ottawa, Canada, you should make an appointment with the very talented  Travis at Planet Ink Studios. He made my first time memorable, and was so gentle (Stop giggling. Are you 12?). I'll definitely be seeing him for future work.

And now I must run out and find an off-the-shoulder top for this weekend. I have two get-togethers to attend, and this Maven feels like showing off her ink a little.