Underground...
Shh...don't tell anyone. I've been privy to some underground murmuring and I don't want to scare it away with the obnoxious slip-slap of my size 10 flip-flops. Instead, I want to join the fray of this quiet revolution and lend my voice to the uprising.
There are certain beliefs that we, as a collective group, hold to be fundamentally true. They've been passed down from generations and aren't challenged until someone pulls a Cher and charges the zombie-like nation to "Snap out of it!" Beliefs like not wearing white after Labor Day (I'll wear what you tell me to wear once you buy it for me) and the inappropriateness of men purchasing tampons (give me a break - does it look like he's using them?). Ugh. One of these silly assumptions is the belief that women, once mothers, must be perfect and show that they enjoy the act of raising children.
The movement that I'm referring to tries to squelch this idea with our fists. And these fists aren't just holding granola or snapping the buckle on their Manolos - these are every day mothers who want this belief to go the way of the dodo birds. Extinct.
Why? What's wrong with saying that mothers must enjoy the act of raising children? Don't you love your children? Don't you want them to be healthy, safe and happy? Don't you want to be perfect and provide every single possible thing for them? And excuse me, but wasn't having children your choice? Didn't you read the books that warned you against post-partum depression and sleepless nights? Also, PS, shouldn't you shut up because at least you got to birth a baby when there are many women in the world who can't? Be grateful you're in this spot to begin with!
Here's the thing. I'm not saying mothers can't enjoy parenthood. I'm not even saying mothers don't enjoy parenthood. I do - I love it. (And I'm not saying that with overwhelmed, LCD-laced eyes and sweat-sticky hair - yeah, sure you do, sister). But to say that we are expected to parade around swathed in smiles and keep the secret of how monstrously difficult it can be to ourselves, well, that's just trying to put out a fire with a paper fan. Oh we will rise up, em-effers.
We are supposed to be perfect mothers - take homemade cupcakes to school, supervise the well-stocked arts and crafts table in our kitchens, cook organic dinners for the family, research fun family vacations, not get angry or frustrated, help hubby get ahead at his job, maintain close contact with friends and family and dress in style...ack! And the more we push that belief, the more women feel obligated to do it. The more guilt weighs us down like mafia bricks in the East River of self-confidence. The more jealous, judgemental and suspicious we are of other mothers. Isn't that outdated? Isn't it tiring? What's more, shouldn't we form alliances with others who are going through the same problems instead of watching them sweat it out with self-righteous grins plastered over our gloating faces?
Now don't get me wrong. This isn't a sleep deprivation whine. I've gotten (knock on wood) a full night's sleep every night since Oliver turned 1. I didn't think it would ever happen or that it was possible, but one night, in the midst of our bedbug debacle and allergy craziness, he just started sleeping 11-11 1/2 hours. Glorious.
No. It's not a whine at all. I try to adhere to the "suck it up, camper" side of things. But sometimes I think that the main reason I'm a good Mama to Oliver isn't because I love him to pieces and want what's best for him, but because I fear failing. As painful as it is to admit it, on these days I don't fear failing my son. I fear failing society.
I know what NOT to do. I'm not stuffing him with jell-o or chips. I never have and never will shake him, slap, hit or spank him. I don't dress him inappropriately for the weather. I don't ignore virus symptoms.
You know what I don't do? I don't pinterest (overwhelming). I don't know how to use cake decorator tools (take my money, Person Who Went To School For This). I haven't been able to get my sewing machine to work since I received it in 2004 (thread resistance or user ignorance?). I cook the same tuna casserole 3x a month. If I'm going to really honest - I'm sorry - by cooking, I mean that I order the ingredients online so my husband can cook it. (Thanks, sweetheart, it's delicious!).
Let me tell you what I do do. I try to give Oliver healthy, homemade food, but I don't beat myself up if his pizza dough comes from the freezer. I listen to my husband and give him advice on work, but then I ask him his opinion on what's happening at my (also full time) job. I get out once a week so that I can connect with friends, but if that doesn't happen, my friends are okay with it. I wear clean and matching clothes which is all people can expect of me. I chronicle Oliver's funny antics and maintain pictures and videos for posterity. My husband and I work hard to keep a clean, safe and homey environment, but I don't clean the oven - which results in many smoke alarm explanations.
I also cuddle Oliver and give him kisses. I make sure he gets to chat with his grandparents on Skype. I laugh when he's funny and gently scold when he bites. I chase him around on the floor in the twenty minutes I have between getting home from work and dinner/bath/bedtime. I reassure myself daily that his daycare is a smart, healthy choice.
Now why is it that I don't feel like that's enough?
Here's what I'm suggesting to combat this problem: each mother should find a sorority and be accountable. Let me explain.
There are certain pockets of society that we all fall into at different stages in our lives. I'm not talking about target age brackets that tv programmers focus on in order to optimize Must See TV, I mean the other demographics. The ones that you end up in once you have a life change. Like graduation or engagement. Or parenthood. I call these little brackets "sororities" because it feels like you never know what they're like until you're inside...and then it's not as fun as if you were just imagining them. Figure out what sorority you fall into - single parent, parent of 1 child, multiple children, children with allergies, etc. and find other people who are in that sorority. Make friends with them. Invite them over to your house. Set a playdate. We need to become friends and fight this together.
Once you meet with them, the goal is to be honest. (Glean all the information you can devour first, but) be honest with them and with yourself. If you don't like them, don't push it - walk away. This is okay. I mean, if your response to her admitting that she ate her daughter's placenta is "Blurphg!" and not, "I mixed mine into a strawberry smoothie!" then maybe you're in the wrong sorority.
My second suggestion is to allow yourself those fun things that you used to do and now think is selfish. Do them at least once a week. Make it a goal for yourself and hold yourself to it. Maybe it's to sit down and watch that Netflix that's been collecting dust on your foyer table. (Maybe it's to dust that foyer table.) Maybe it's a mani and pedi. Or a night out with the girls. Or a night out by yourself. Or a trip to Barnes and Noble to sit in the quietest row and read the new lusty Harlequin. Tell your friends, tell your sorority, tell your husband and make them keep you accountable.
Seriously. It's time to take action. We need, as mothers, to pound this belief that mothers have to be perfect into the ground. We need to forgive ourselves our shortcomings, celebrate our complimentary attributes, HELP each other and spread the love! Join the movement. Snap 'em out of it. Let's shake this shit up.
I love you. You know that, right? Or is that one more thing I should feel guilty about?!?
Here is another Mama who feels the same way:
http://making-messes.tumblr.com/post/27051705648/competitive-motherhood
There are certain beliefs that we, as a collective group, hold to be fundamentally true. They've been passed down from generations and aren't challenged until someone pulls a Cher and charges the zombie-like nation to "Snap out of it!" Beliefs like not wearing white after Labor Day (I'll wear what you tell me to wear once you buy it for me) and the inappropriateness of men purchasing tampons (give me a break - does it look like he's using them?). Ugh. One of these silly assumptions is the belief that women, once mothers, must be perfect and show that they enjoy the act of raising children.
The movement that I'm referring to tries to squelch this idea with our fists. And these fists aren't just holding granola or snapping the buckle on their Manolos - these are every day mothers who want this belief to go the way of the dodo birds. Extinct.
Why? What's wrong with saying that mothers must enjoy the act of raising children? Don't you love your children? Don't you want them to be healthy, safe and happy? Don't you want to be perfect and provide every single possible thing for them? And excuse me, but wasn't having children your choice? Didn't you read the books that warned you against post-partum depression and sleepless nights? Also, PS, shouldn't you shut up because at least you got to birth a baby when there are many women in the world who can't? Be grateful you're in this spot to begin with!
Here's the thing. I'm not saying mothers can't enjoy parenthood. I'm not even saying mothers don't enjoy parenthood. I do - I love it. (And I'm not saying that with overwhelmed, LCD-laced eyes and sweat-sticky hair - yeah, sure you do, sister). But to say that we are expected to parade around swathed in smiles and keep the secret of how monstrously difficult it can be to ourselves, well, that's just trying to put out a fire with a paper fan. Oh we will rise up, em-effers.
We are supposed to be perfect mothers - take homemade cupcakes to school, supervise the well-stocked arts and crafts table in our kitchens, cook organic dinners for the family, research fun family vacations, not get angry or frustrated, help hubby get ahead at his job, maintain close contact with friends and family and dress in style...ack! And the more we push that belief, the more women feel obligated to do it. The more guilt weighs us down like mafia bricks in the East River of self-confidence. The more jealous, judgemental and suspicious we are of other mothers. Isn't that outdated? Isn't it tiring? What's more, shouldn't we form alliances with others who are going through the same problems instead of watching them sweat it out with self-righteous grins plastered over our gloating faces?
Now don't get me wrong. This isn't a sleep deprivation whine. I've gotten (knock on wood) a full night's sleep every night since Oliver turned 1. I didn't think it would ever happen or that it was possible, but one night, in the midst of our bedbug debacle and allergy craziness, he just started sleeping 11-11 1/2 hours. Glorious.
No. It's not a whine at all. I try to adhere to the "suck it up, camper" side of things. But sometimes I think that the main reason I'm a good Mama to Oliver isn't because I love him to pieces and want what's best for him, but because I fear failing. As painful as it is to admit it, on these days I don't fear failing my son. I fear failing society.
I know what NOT to do. I'm not stuffing him with jell-o or chips. I never have and never will shake him, slap, hit or spank him. I don't dress him inappropriately for the weather. I don't ignore virus symptoms.
You know what I don't do? I don't pinterest (overwhelming). I don't know how to use cake decorator tools (take my money, Person Who Went To School For This). I haven't been able to get my sewing machine to work since I received it in 2004 (thread resistance or user ignorance?). I cook the same tuna casserole 3x a month. If I'm going to really honest - I'm sorry - by cooking, I mean that I order the ingredients online so my husband can cook it. (Thanks, sweetheart, it's delicious!).
Let me tell you what I do do. I try to give Oliver healthy, homemade food, but I don't beat myself up if his pizza dough comes from the freezer. I listen to my husband and give him advice on work, but then I ask him his opinion on what's happening at my (also full time) job. I get out once a week so that I can connect with friends, but if that doesn't happen, my friends are okay with it. I wear clean and matching clothes which is all people can expect of me. I chronicle Oliver's funny antics and maintain pictures and videos for posterity. My husband and I work hard to keep a clean, safe and homey environment, but I don't clean the oven - which results in many smoke alarm explanations.
I also cuddle Oliver and give him kisses. I make sure he gets to chat with his grandparents on Skype. I laugh when he's funny and gently scold when he bites. I chase him around on the floor in the twenty minutes I have between getting home from work and dinner/bath/bedtime. I reassure myself daily that his daycare is a smart, healthy choice.
Now why is it that I don't feel like that's enough?
Here's what I'm suggesting to combat this problem: each mother should find a sorority and be accountable. Let me explain.
There are certain pockets of society that we all fall into at different stages in our lives. I'm not talking about target age brackets that tv programmers focus on in order to optimize Must See TV, I mean the other demographics. The ones that you end up in once you have a life change. Like graduation or engagement. Or parenthood. I call these little brackets "sororities" because it feels like you never know what they're like until you're inside...and then it's not as fun as if you were just imagining them. Figure out what sorority you fall into - single parent, parent of 1 child, multiple children, children with allergies, etc. and find other people who are in that sorority. Make friends with them. Invite them over to your house. Set a playdate. We need to become friends and fight this together.
Once you meet with them, the goal is to be honest. (Glean all the information you can devour first, but) be honest with them and with yourself. If you don't like them, don't push it - walk away. This is okay. I mean, if your response to her admitting that she ate her daughter's placenta is "Blurphg!" and not, "I mixed mine into a strawberry smoothie!" then maybe you're in the wrong sorority.
My second suggestion is to allow yourself those fun things that you used to do and now think is selfish. Do them at least once a week. Make it a goal for yourself and hold yourself to it. Maybe it's to sit down and watch that Netflix that's been collecting dust on your foyer table. (Maybe it's to dust that foyer table.) Maybe it's a mani and pedi. Or a night out with the girls. Or a night out by yourself. Or a trip to Barnes and Noble to sit in the quietest row and read the new lusty Harlequin. Tell your friends, tell your sorority, tell your husband and make them keep you accountable.
Seriously. It's time to take action. We need, as mothers, to pound this belief that mothers have to be perfect into the ground. We need to forgive ourselves our shortcomings, celebrate our complimentary attributes, HELP each other and spread the love! Join the movement. Snap 'em out of it. Let's shake this shit up.
I love you. You know that, right? Or is that one more thing I should feel guilty about?!?
Here is another Mama who feels the same way:
http://making-messes.tumblr.com/post/27051705648/competitive-motherhood
Comments
Mu-wah!
PS I'm going to call you tomorrow. We have an ultrasound. 18 weeks. Cross your fingers.