Know Them. Be Them. Raise Them.

     One day I will remember to write about the time we had 10 adults in a classroom of 3 children/started off an observation by uttering the words, "Oh boy." Or the times in the last few weeks when my kids have said things like, "Whoa, she's going to need a big, big, big potty!" in front of strangers. Or at least tell the story of my favorite IEP meeting of all time that included a double-take and a father proudly showing all in attendance his son's creation: a phallic cutout with the words "BOOB BOOB" scrawled carefully across it.

     These are the best days of my life, people.

     But I digress.

     Today is International Women's Day.

     I know some pretty stinkin' awesome women. And I am tempted to tell Shija's story. Or brag on my crazy hardworking best friend Cheryl. Or try to shed light on the strength of Sarah. Or the love of Yunia. Or the concern for others that my girl Safa has. Or the unyielding energy of Heather.

     But... probably today's the day for part of my story.

     I'm at the point in life where when people refer to me as a woman, I look around to see who they are talking about. I'm just a little girl! Hang my artwork on your refrigerator. Feed me free food. No, please don't make me go to work daily. Bill? Taxes?!

     But today I am reminded of the gift that I have every day. Even the days I have to pay bills.

     Back when I was a young whippersnapper, I never really lacked confidence. I knew I was smart. I knew I was fast. I knew I could play baseball better than my neighbors. I knew I could do anything.

     And I have to thank the grown-ups I was around for all that. My parents. My coaches. My teachers.

     I vividly remember taping a to-do list on this plastic crib thing in my bedroom when I was little. I spent time and serious effort into considering what I should include, what I should leave off, and how to order my list.

     I thought rationally about my dream to be an artist. Once I'd smashed my finger in the stapler when I was making paper hats; clearly, the artist life could be dangerous. I wasn't sure about such a dangerous lifestyle. I also wasn't sure how well I could provide for myself upon realizing that while my drawings of red flowers with yellow centers were amazing, it was almost like once you had seen one, you had seen them all.

     Clearly, I had to scrap the dream of artisthood.

     Instead, only the very attainable dreams of playing for the US National Women's Soccer Team, playing in the NFL, playing in the NBA, and playing in the MLB all made the list.

     And in all of my years, I can't remember anyone ever telling me I couldn't achieve it.

     Sure, I made my PE coaches uncomfortable when I took advantage of the day they forgot to specify that boys could play football while girls walked the track. I knew nothing about football, but I knew I was tired of walking laps. And so I went to the middle of the football field. And after looking around at one another a little confused, Coach L and Coach Turner turned me into a running back.

     I also made my parents uncomfortable when I super wanted to play football like my best friend, but they never told me I couldn't or that it wasn't for girls.

     And I straight up made my big brother mad when I turned his guys' soccer team into a co-ed squad. But that was because I was an embarrassing little squirt, not because of my femininity.

     I've always been welcomed to throw like a girl. Play like a girl. Fight like a girl. Win like a girl. Work like a girl.

     And now I get to pass that freedom on. I get to provide a safe place for little girls and boys to learn how awesome girls are. How strong. How talented. How vital. How unique.

     Sometimes it is easier for recognize the strength and talents of girls and women abroad because they are so different from my own. Right now, I have the power to shed light on the strength right where I live and work. I can't wait to help change the meaning of "like a girl."