Pride

Saturday was a lovely day here in Portland. After weeks and weeks of rain, the sun and warmth felt wonderful. The morning was devoted to scrubbing the mold and dirt from the screen entry way of our pop-up camper. I set up each child with a scrub brush. There was a big bucket filled with Simple Green and water. And there was the hose. Then I got the hell out of the way. They worked hard and played hard. It all came to a screeching halt when the 4 year old had a major melt down. Her sibs would not let her hold the hose any longer. Whenever she had the hose in her possession, she would blast them with it.



After lunch and "rest" we went to a local park. This was their reward for all of their hard work of the morning. The park has a totally cool wading pool. Wading pools usually conjure up an image of a small, round, shallow body of water. This wading pool is in a different league entirely. It is long, wide and serpentine shaped. At the far end is a warm toddler pool. At the other is the outlet channel, the deepest part of the pool, which is just up to my 4 year olds knees. Why do my teenage girls love going there? Because of the water jets embedded in the pool. And because the water is very, very cold and feels wonderful on a hot, stinky day.



Parking was a bitch. We finally found a spot on the other side of the park from the pool and preceded to hoof it. It soon became clear that there was a big festival being held in the park. With live music. Now, I love live music. I was perfectly prepared to plunk my chair down on the lawn, under an oak tree and listen to the free concert. But, NOOOOOO! It's never about what Momma wants. I pouted all of the way to the wading pool.

What also became quickly evident was that the festival was Portland's Annual Gay Pride celebration. Portland is a wonderfully diverse city. As we walked across the park it became clear that much of that diversity was in the park that afternoon. The kids eyes were popping out of their heads. I thought it was fun. Blue hair, pierced whatever and lots of thigh high lace-up leather boots. (And no, children, you may not pierce, tatoo or dye your hair until you are 18 years old!) Men walking arm in arm. Women walking arm in arm. My church marches in the parade each year. We would have been there that morning if I had remembered to write it down on my calender.

On the way home in the car I asked the kids what they thought the festival had been about.

Pride, Mom. Didn't you see all of the banners. (13 year old with eye roll)

Oh, and blue hair! (8 year old)

But what are they proud of?

Ummm, that we are all so different?

No, they are proud of their blue hair!(8 year old again)

I went on to explain the meaning of the festival. You have to grab those "teaching moments" when they become available. Plus, I had a captive audience.

Here is my childrens contribution to our city's diversity. This picture was taken in the parking lot of the park.

All of my children have on purple, blue and/or pink nail polish.
(Remember, not all of my children are female.)