On Vagina

Well, I finally broke down and got Naomi Wolfe's Vagina: A New Biography. I thought it might help me out with my sexuality, but I think instead it led to a fight with my husband.

The other night when we were supposed to do it, he did what he usually does—laid down next to me with his eyes closed like he was asleep and started rubbing and scratching my back. I usually do the same thing and if we don't pass out and fall asleep we might start kissing, I might start stroking him and it might lead to sex. Or, it might lead to me complaining about why he always lays there with his eyes closed.

See, Naomi Wolf told me that the adoring male gaze is part of the "Goddess Array" and that I need it to feel special and get turned on. It kind of made sense. After nine years of marriage I do get the feeling that he doesn't even look at me, pay attention to me or notice me, really. I feel pretty fine about how I look and so I don't need his gaze for self-esteem, but I do understand how, if he gave me more of a signal that he saw me, I might respond with a little more fire than I do.

So, I called him on the eyes closed thing. He defensively gave me a bunch of excuses that it was awkward for him to stare at me when he was so close, that his eyes couldn't focus well, he didn't even have his contacts on. It kind of made sense what he was saying, but, Naomi said he should be looking at me.

He's also supposed to treat me like a Goddess—this is never going to happen.

One of the things I value about my relationship with my husband is our friendliness. We are friends. We are friends who have sex. As much as I may be into my power as a woman, I don't think he is ever going to look at me as a Goddess. That's not to say I don't think I am worthy. I do. It's just not who my husband is. And I don't think he's the type who would grow into it and I'm not sure I want him to—it sounds kind of smarmy.

There's a lot that's good about the Vagina book, but there's a lot that's corny—and suspect.  Lots of reviews get more into it (The New Yorker, Jezebel, Feminste, WIRED...) so I am going to stick to a my personal reaction rather than anything societal or overarching.

Many times while I was reading it, I couldn't help but wondering, what about the guys?  It was all, women want this...women need that. It seemed to have an undercurrent of...men just want to get laid and so they need to do all this attentive stuff for their women and the men will get better sex out of it. There was this unspoken assumption of men taking the lead sexually and that men were kind of monolithic in their sexuality. I realize the book wasn't supposed to be about men's sexuality, but it did seem to assume a lot about that.

I like the idea that our bodies (our vaginas) should be sacred and private and not abused or made fun of. I don't think it's revelatory that if women are raped it damages them wholly, not just physically in their vaginas (Wolfe has much to say about rape as weapon of war and such, and I just kept thinking, of course, of course, these things destroy women's self-confidence and lives overall).

It makes sense, too, that a woman with a satisfying sex life in a good relationship would have the happiness, peace and wellness spill over to other areas of her life, like work and creativity, as well. However, I don't think that it has to be vaginal sex only and I don't think that an otherwise healthy woman who has not been raped or otherwise damaged and abused but who may not be having amazing vaginal sex will necessarily suffer in other areas of her life. Sex is not everything.

I don't say this just because I don't have vaginal orgasms (never have). I say it moreso because I'm not that interested (at all?) in having vaginal orgasms. If it happened, cool, but I don't feel like I am missing something and am not now driven to pursue it. Of course, maybe it's a shortcoming in me that I don't even care. But, to me, it's not the kind of orgasm my husband gives or doesn't give me, or even the sexual techniques at all that are important, it's the attention and care overall (yes, sometimes lacking) but I don't think it has to be so prescribed.

Wolfe does say in the book that she doesn't mean any of this to necessarily be prescriptive, but more of an a la carte assortment of things she found out in her research and connections she made. I question much of what she calls "science"—she relies a lot on rat studies to make her cases. She mentions as an aside a sugar rush from semen and I just wonder how much a guy would have to cum for the amount to, chemically, really evoke anything physiologically in a woman that she could really feel. One Amazon reviewer lists suggestions for Google searches pointing toward articles critical of Wolfe's interpretation of the science: Neuroscientists take aim at Naomi Wolf's theory of the "conscious vagina"; Naomi Wolf's "Vagina" is full of bad science about the brain; Pride and Prejudice, by Zoë Heller (The New York Review of Books); Feminist Dopamine, Conscious Vaginas, and the Goddess Array; Of Mice and Women: Animal Models of Desire, Dread, and Despair; and Upstairs, Downstairs; `Vagina: A New Biography,' by Naomi Wolf (The New York Times).

Also, the tantric coach who charges $150 per hour for "yoni" work, including hands-on massage grosses me out.

I enjoyed reading about different historical mores related to the vagina, although certain parts of the past and certain current practices within cultures that denigrate women were troubling. If anything, it made me grateful to be a grown woman in the West married to a kind, if not stunningly tantric, man, even with the porn-addled consciousness that supposedly ruins us all. (I think some people of my and my husband's age may have escaped exposure to and getting hooked on or damaged by some of the more distasteful or harmful porn.) I have to be careful not to focus on ways my husband may not be treating me like the Goddess I allegedly am. Maybe try and come up with some ways to quietly evoke this in him, because my direct requests for things like eye contact don't usually work. I'm not sure knowing what I know now after reading Vagina will improve my sex life, but maybe that wasn't the point. It was her personal discovery, not mine.

Kind of comforting, but not really

I recently finished Comfort, by Ann Hood, that I'd set out to read as maybe a bit of a lesson on how not to be so anxious about my own child—losing her, either through death (kind of an irrational fear for every day) or through just her simply doing what kids do and growing up.

I learned about Hood through an essay she wrote following the Newtown, Connecticut, tragedy in December where young schoolchildren were gunned down and killed.

Hood writes really well. She captures the love of a mother in beautiful detail. I felt like I could really identify with all the things she notices and loves about her daughter. Many of her daughter's quirky qualities reminded me of my own child. I found myself sobbing in the beginning, wondering whether it was really a good idea to read the book, as I was getting really emotional. I thought of my parents. They'd lost a child, just a little baby. She was not even one year old. I don't remember her at all.  I just remember getting swept up by some friendly paramedics as they rushed us...somewhere. Really, that's all I remember. I thought that any shortcomings they had as parents are just totally forgiven because they'd lost a child.

My connection to Hood kind of ended, though, in her coping. I guess that is OK. We all have to find our own ways to cope and of course hers would be different from mine and, of course, I don't really know what mine would be til it would happen. I do know with a good amount of certainty, though, that I wouldn't adopt another child, and I don't already have that other, other child (her older son) that Hood had.  Aside from the other children, Hood seemed to be quite comfortable financially. Writer job. Big house. Ability to take really great vacations. She'd had a nanny before for her children (including the daughter who'd died), too. I think having other children probably makes a big (the biggest) difference and is something I would not have.  This scares me, and so my takeaway is that I just have to be present and savor life as it is and try not to worry. I'm not a huge worrier, compared to other women, based on things I hear from people and things I read, but still, it's easier to tie that concept up in a little concluding sentence than to actually live it...

Self-comfort through reading

My New Years resolutions this year were kind of weird. I have this general sense that I need to lose 15–20 pounds by late March so I look good on my tropical island vacation. I want to make my kid practice her keyboard 15 minutes a day (this is a resolution for me because I actually have to make the time and pretty much be engaged the whole time). I want to meditate most days (say 5 out of 7)  I want to do yoga more regularly. One of the most measurable ones, though, or, I should say, one of the ones I am least loathing of measuring is to  start FINISHING all (well, most, the ones I still actually want to read) the books I've got on my Kindle that I grab up every time something catches my interest before grabbing any more. It's getting out of hand!

So, the one I am starting with is Comfort by Ann Hood, which I actually just bought today, so it's not really fair to the other books in my virtual pile, but something I'm hoping will help me in life. I will be, of course, concurrently reading the Mindfulness book I just mentioned, but that's a different kind of thing. Comfort is a memoir about how this woman deals with her five-year-old daughter dying.

Yikes! Right? I have a five-year-old daughter who I am madly in love with. We sit there and say "Best kid ever! Best mom ever!" and trade numerous "I love yous" while cuddling each other to sleep each night. I can't even begin to imagine losing her. And yet, I think about it too much. Not only do I think about actually losing her, which very likely won't happen, I think about her growing up, which is of course a good thing,  and will happen—but I am realistic to know I will not always be able to cuddle her to sleep. She is going to grow up and leave me in a very normal way.

I already am lost over this thing of her being in school all day, still, now in January, after her having been for several months. I'm not a loon of a mommy who is on her at every minute with some activity or always engaging her and who doesn't get annoyed with her at times or doesn't want time to myself, either. It's not that. It's just...I think most parents might feel this way about their child, don't they? And yet, we are all different so we feel love in different ways, so I don't know. I love pretty hard. And there is the thing of her being my only one. And there is the thing of her being a girl. Her looking like me (kind of, but way prettier). Her being every hope and blessing and dream for the future. (No pressure, my girl, really!) So, yeah, I need some help!

I am thinking if I can get an insight into how this woman deals with her child actually dying—arguably the worst thing someone can go through, or one of the worst—then maybe I can come away with some lesson for myself.

OK, I am off to being what I hope can be a couple solid hours of reading (another thing I am trying to do instead of all kind of crazy, disjointed, interruptedness...)

Why have kids?

I took a little break from blogging to enjoy the last days of summer with my little one before ...gulp!... Kindergarten. We had some wonderful times and it was with wistful feelings that I let her go. She's doing great, though.

This is kind of long and maybe a little rambly, but just trying to sort out thoughts while fresh...

This week I read Why Have Kids? by Jessica Valenti, the "poster girl for third-wave feminism." And while I disagree with a lot of what's in the book, she's not wrong.

Why Have Kids is a bit of compendium of what's been going on in the momoshpere the past few years. Valenti's got Linda Hirshman, she's got Elisabeth Badinter (here too), she's got Erica Jong. She talks about attachment parenting, the anti-vaccination crowd, breast vs. bottle. In case you missed any of that. She references Babble, Blue Milk, Jennifer Block, Megan Francis, Katie Granju, Rikki Lake's Business of Being Born and even The Feminist Breeder.

What's just a little bit different about Valenti, though, and what makes her and the book so likable for me, even though her assertions go against my own experience, is she thinks what she thinks and expresses it, but is open enough to admit that other ways of doing things are understandable—which is kind of the place I've come to after five years of parenting. For example, Valenti calls Jennifer Block's book, Pushed, "wonderful," and sincerely was into breastfeeding, pursuing pumping valiantly as her preemie did time in the NICU. I was moved by her tenacity and totally get why she'd be mildly snide about lactivist rhetoric, even as much as I am a proponent—and huge fan—of breastfeeding. I have no idea what it's like for it to be hard to breastfeed and so I have to take Valenti's recounting of her experience for what she says.

It was bothersome, however, when Valenti attempted to minimize the benefits of breastfeeding a la Hannah Rosin, citing Joan Wolf. I can appreciate something being hard, something not working and a person making peace with it. Breastfeeding is not the be-all-and-end-all, of course. But don't be delusional and say things like formula is "just as...healthy a choice as breastfeeding." I often feed my kid breaded fish filets. They're easy and she likes them. But I don't think they are just as healthy as say, quinoa with kale, or something.

I also am conflicted about the idea that "Women Should Work," presented as a "truth" in Valenti's "lies" and "truth" structure of the book. Women should work if they want to (and of course, if they must). I don't like the idea of infants in daycare. I have a real problem with it, really. I understand, of course, that people do what they have to do. It's when they don't have to do it that it bothers me. Of course, I know it's not my business and I accept that. I would just never put a child under 2 (and that's the low end) in daycare unless it was absolutely necessary for the family's survival. At the same time, I don't like the idea of women who want to work having to give up an important part of who they are, not to mention some modicum of financial independence—just in case. I get it. I had the unique situation of being able to be really hands on 24/7 with my baby while doing satisfying work and earning enough to get by on my own (at least temporarily) in the unlikely even that we were left alone without my husband, and so I can't honestly be too hard on others for their choices (and besides, as I said, it's not my business). But, what I would push for is not necessarily affordable infant daycare (preschool, sure) but subsidized maternity leave, more part-time work/job sharing, more teleworking, an acceptance of bringing pre-crawlers into the office, and on-site daycare for older babies.

So I think in some ways here my views intersect with Valenti's but I'll never ever be gung-ho about daycare for infants. See, I disagree with another of Valenti's "lies," that "Children Need Their Parents." Most especially they need their mothers as infants and then, yes they do need their parents. The real idea behind Valenti's assertion is that kids need more than just their parents, I think. And of course I agree, for older kids. My daughter benefited greatly from going to preschool and being in the care of other adults for a few short hours a few days a week. Now she's doing well in Kindergarten (as much as we can know after a week). But really, I was the big influence in her life during these first most formative years and that's the way I like it. I've written before about how important a mother's influence is to a girl and how the nuclear family (another thing Valenti likes to point out is being phased out) establishing it's own sense of being a "tribe" is. This is not to the exclusion of others, this does not mean we don't have friends or are not part of a diverse community, but I think it's important to imprint on a child early on "who we are" as a family. I think it enables them to go out into the world and glean things from these "others" while remaining firm in who they are.

I liked when Valenti discussed the trope that motherhood is "the hardest job in the world" because I've always felt it's not a job at all, but a relationship. (I could have sworn I blogged about this before, but now can't find any reference to this idea, and someone else has ran with it, to much acclaim...) I don't expect pay and I can't be fired! My performance tends to fluctuate according to my mood and circumstances much more than my performance in the work I do professionally. It's just not even in the same realm as paid work, and I would never want it to be.

So, that's why I say I disagree with Valenti, but can see she's not wrong. Can anyone be wrong about this stuff? How we cobble together our lives is very personal and who among us doesn't create an a la carte life, picking and choosing elements of many paths and philosophies to fit what's best for us? It is her approachable voice and her openness to the idea that some stuff (breastfeeding, AP, staying home) may be OK for others, even though it wasn't for her, that brings such great balance to the book. She somehow manages to do it without seeming wishy-washy.

I'm coming from a different place, though. I guess I could call myself an essentialist. I fully embraced that, as a woman, with the baby having grown in my body, having come from within my body and having been fed solely from my body for the first 6 months, that I would be the primary when it comes to my kid. I fully expected this and I didn't have a problem with it at all philosophically and not much in practice, either.

Sure, there were many times I was tired and worn out from mothering an infant (then toddler, then preschooler—each age with its distinct challenges) but the deal was I'd stay home with her and do my consulting part-time and my husband would stay in his job and be the primary wage earner. I won't lie, there were times when the menial tasks, things like having to pick up toys all the time, got on my nerves. I really didn't like "playdates" til my kid was old enough to have a friend over sans mom and I could actually use that time to get things done. But I always felt like I was doing something important and right by being home with her for these earliest years. As our kid got older, my husband has taken on a more hands on, bigger role in parenting, but I'm still the primary when it comes down to it, and I think I will be til the day I die. He's a great dad. That's just the way it is for us. Sometimes I feel under-appreciated by my husband, who expresses a little envy at my getting to stay home all day for these early years (forgetting how I often stay up til 1 am getting client work done after having had to do kid stuff during the day). But, all in all, the years I spent at home with my young child were golden to me and now, on the edge of ramping back up job-wise with my kid in school full-time, I'm feeling nostalgic already...they went by really fast.

I suppose young women today can't be blamed for not being in touch with themselves as "natural" women (something feminists today seem to so hate the idea of). We live in a world where many of women's most natural characteristics and functions are reviled. There's no magic in menstruation, many women wax or shave themselves into nearly hairless fembots, it's no wonder many are put off by breastfeeding or find it gross. Eww! Female body fluids! Yuck! Very sad, actually, but I can't blame the young women, it's the culture they're raised in. To me, it's a failing of feminism that it is this way.

So, I don't personally get why so many women, as described by Valenti, seem so surprised at the work involved with—and discontented with the reality of—mothering a young child. And many of these are women who use daycare and don't even deal with said children all day long.

Maybe it's an age thing. At 40, I'm seven years older than Valenti and maybe older than many of her "ilk." I had my kid at 35 and had plenty of fun before that so I wasn't bent out of shape by the idea that I wouldn't be able to go out without the baby for a while if I was going to do full on breastfeeding, no pumping and that kind of thing. I really didn't want to "go out" for the evening at all during my kid's earliest days (OK, year...) It wasn't because I was depressed or a hermit or anything bad, it just wasn't where I was at at that time. I was into the baby.

Or, it could be my blue collar roots—I don't have the expectation that life should be easy and I pretty much thank my lucky stars every day that I have a white collar consulting job, as middling as it may be, it's not backbreaking and I enjoy it. And I am super thankful that I had the good fortune to be at home with my baby.

Who knows? Valenti describes a status quo wherein women are sold a bill of goods about how blissful it is to have a baby and then face the "truth" of how much it can suck. I mean we all have bad days, but yeah, lowered expectations, people!

For all the distancing of themselves from what felt (and feels) so natural to me (birth, breastfeeding, wanting to be with my small child most of the day) that many contemporary feminists seem to do—whether because they truly don't feel that pull, or because they have been well-taught to turn their backs on that pull in the name of the cause—I wonder why some of them do have kids at all, then.

Valenti argues that there is still a strong cultural expectation—assumption even—that a woman wants to, or will, have children. This is somewhat surprising to me in this day and age and I am prone to disbelief, but again, since I'm a woman with a child, I feel somewhat unqualified to tell other people what they feel who claim to experience this pressure. But, if you're a strong feminist who doesn't want kids, you won't cave to the pressure, right? Maybe again, some people just don't know what they're getting into, I suppose and just go for it. That's kind of what I did and it worked out.

I have to say I didn't think deeply about it before going forward with having a baby. I had kind of given up on even getting married to some extent right before I met my husband. I wasn't at desperation age yet (only 29) so I can't say for sure, but I think I was actually OK with not getting married anyway. I was kind of just floating through life, trying to earn a living, have a good time and that was that. If I met someone, great! And I did. And it turned out we talked about it while dating and he wanted kids, well, one kid, anyway,  was what he said, and I was like, sure, fine, whatever. That's what some people did, right? They got married and had a kid, or kids. So, why not me? Do I sound really vacant or stupid for putting it that way? Maybe. But I bet lots of people are that way.

In the same way I didn't think deeply about whether to have a baby, I didn't have an idea of being the "perfect mother" that seems to be a big theme for discussion (Valenti cites Judith Warner's book, Perfect Madness). We hear so much about all the pressure moms are under to be "perfect," but really, is that pressure truly there? How much of that is put on people by themselves because of an initial amount of hubris to even think in the first place that achieving perfection is possible? We see "perfect" women, actresses, supermodels, on TV and in the movies and yet most of us have come to terms that we just need to do the best we can to stay healthy and that those people are professionals and or anomalies. So why can't we understand that perfection in a relationship (remember, being a mother is a relationship, not a job) is an unattainable—and vague—goal? Some feminists argue a deep-seated, almost conspiratorial agenda is in place to keep women down by playing with their minds to focus them on this perfection in parenting, but I just don't know. Aren't we all smarter than that by now?

My favorite line in Why Have Kids? was: "The truth about parenting is that the reality of our lives needs to be enough." And, of course, this is right on. Only when you embrace the imperfection can you begin to appreciate the tender beauty of parenting. And we all have different realities, it seems.

 

More on 'The Conflict'—pushing me to be more progressive

So, I decided I just had to read the book—The Conflict, by Elisabeth Badinter—if I was going to participate in any discussions of it and I am glad I did.

First I must say I am sorry for calling her a "bitch" in my last post. I had some misgivings about giving her money from the purchase of the book, as she is a billionaire whose business promotes formula companies big time, so it could be said that there's a conflict of interest there, but, again, I felt like if I was going to comment extensively or have views on it, I'd better read it. (And I don't think her screed is some strategy to bolster formula companies' position, but to protect the French way of life as she knows it.)

In the book, Badinter's tone was not shrill or condemning of the individuals who would choose to practice what she calls "intensive mothering"—much of which is part of the suite of practices in what's more widely known as "attachment parenting" (AP)—but rather but more of a critique of the overarching societal effects of these practices (or what she believes them to be). I have to say, the synopses and articles on it don't have the subtlety of the book itself and Badinter herself comes across softer in parts of the book than in interviews she gives. Many of the ensuing responses from AP, 3rd wave types, kind of like myself, seemed defensive, too, and we have here a cycle of female defensiveness that's kind of funny.

Much of the book deals with discussion of  encouraging birth rates among nations (which is up for discussion of whether that's even a good thing) and how various family policies affect this, which I found interesting. America seems to be an anomaly since we don't really have any kind of government policies supporting families and yet our birth rate is solid. Still, after reading the book, I am leaning more toward support of the Scandinavian-style family policies, not to effect any boom in birthrates (which they don't seem to in Scandinavian countries, anyway), just because I think it is the right thing for a progressive society to do in order to bridge the inherent gap due to biological characteristics of women (we get pregnant and have babies!) and to foster equality, which I believe elevates a society. In my view, this would include ample parental leave (not just for moms) with special support for breastfeeding, part-time employment arrangements for mothers of young children, and high-quality early education—not infant daycare. I have had tendencies in the past to take the "people should be able to do it on their own" line, but if something is really good for families and children, and for women's status, then shouldn't a society work together to help all members achieve this? I'm not talking redistribution of wealth or everyone having to have the same size house or newest car, I'm talking about basics.

Badinter, for her part, predictably praises France (she seems very nationalistic to me), which has more state support for families than the U.S., but has not really gotten on board with the push for breastfeeding or for more egalitarian relationships among men and women. Badinter doesn't seem to get, or want, what's going on with many of the more egalitarian couples in the U.S. (and AP types tend to be progressive and egalitarian, not as a rule but often enough) and Scandinavian countries. She lets men off the hook way too easily (Ph.D. in Parenting focuses on this) and is too in love with traditional French culture and its almost cartoon-like obsession with "sexiness." The idea that babies and children create such a huge impediment to parents' sexuality feels very outmoded, simple-minded and immature to me.

The book is a weird mix of what seems to aspire to be scholarly and what is obviously coming from a very personal place for Badinter. The reader can feel this 2nd wave feminist's tiredness and frustration and worry. She spends a lot of time trying to take down "essentialist" positions about how women are supposed to have a maternal nature, I think because she herself does not have what would be considered a traditional maternal nature. But, I think she oversimplifies what this maternal nature thing is all about. I think her idea of what maternal means is a broadstroked, rubber stamped kind of this that she blames on longstanding pre-feminist cultural mores, but that I just don't see as relevant to most people outside of very conservative or religious corners anymore. The fact that women have more options these days and just because not all women feel "maternal" or want to have kids (all fair and good, fine things) doesn't negate the biological processes with hormones and such that do really exist and are alive and well in the vast majority of women, though. So, while I won't call myself an essentialist in the sense that women have to be a certain way if they don't want to, I do recognize that for most women, elements encoded in their biology play a significant role in their lives, whether anyone likes it or not. So instead of forcing women into the box of turning off their breasts and leaving their infants, so they can be more like men and work, work, work, we should be helping them reconcile their nature with the modern world by keeping room on our modern world for these primal things. (I just started The Continuum Concept now after finishing The Conflict.)

This, I think, may be a key difference between the old and the new "feminism" which has gained ground—we don't want to have to be just like men (or the old school caricature of the workaholic, non-caring, non-parental male) to have equal opportunities. We want to be a part of a progressive society that recognizes the value in what different members of that society have to offer and we want to further human rights to include children's rights—not gain rights for women at the expense of children.

The most disturbing part of The Conflict, for me, was a section toward the end in which Badinter blithely describes the long French tradition of putting children very low on the totem pole of society to the point where "babies were dropping like flies." It brings to mind the old line about how you can judge a society on how it treats the most vulnerable of its people. This concept is explored more in-depth in a piece in The Monthly that observes, "Badinter thinks of herself as a revolutionary and of child advocates as reactionaries, but who really are the reactionaries here, seeking to revert to the past?...The fact is, we don’t need to hark back to the ‘good old days’ to reconcile women’s emancipation with the new ethic of care for children. Nor do we need to apportion blame or guilt. The roadblocks on the path to liberation are not maternalists but government, business and the wider economy."Again, Badinter's views place her firmly in the regressive camp, she sounds very conservative, actually, which on one hand should not be surprising given her wealth and ties to business, but on the other, is counter-intuitive because aren't feminists "progressive"? Apparently they are not all!

On this 'Conflict' thing

My husband is great. He brought home this Marie Claire article (ripped from a gym mag) because he knew it would be right up my alley. I hadn't talked with him about the Badinter book which asserts that certain aspects of motherhood are oppressive and lower the status of women, but he knows how I feel about this stuff. I won't bother discussing too much of the overarching concepts, it's been done, and done well, already. One of the best discussions I've seen has been between Katie Allison Granju (of whom I'm not exactly a fan, but somewhat indifferent) and the notorious (to me) Hannah Rosin on Slate (it's a six-part thing, as of now). I'm just going to ramble a little about my personal thoughts and feelings on this thing.

I just have to say, I really, really don't care what other people do. I might used to have an axe to grind, but I am over that now. There have got to be little minor sparks of light that make people different and these things can just be more of those. What I do care about is when people sniff and snuff at the things I choose to do that are actually quite normal and suggest I am oppressed or brainwashed. I'm not. And I am certainly put off by the idea that as an "educated" woman, I have a responsibility to all of womankind to express my privilege and "liberation" in the manner prescribed by the leading feminist voices of the time, so as not to, you know, lower the status of women. Sorry, I'm more interested in the status of my daughter. Call me selfish.

I didn't even know about "attachment parenting" (AP) or that the things I would do quite naturally out of the box as a new mother were part of a philosophy. I did them mostly because they seemed like obvious choices (to me) and were easy (for me). Or, easier than the alternatives. (I recall a quick past post, Crunchy by Convenience...) Using formula and not being able to breastfeed just never even occurred to me. I don't remember my mom breastfeeding, though I know she did. I remember giving a baby I babysat bottles, but I guess I was kind of clueless about the formula versus breastmilk thing. I hate having to have a bunch of very specific supplies for things (I use wine bottle as a rolling pin and have minimal kitchen gadgets, for example, I like running because all you need is shoes, you get the idea) and I hate cleaning, so bottles, for me, would have been a nightmare. Easier to just whip out my breast as needed! It was no problem having to be with the baby all the time because I wanted to be with the baby all the time. I'd gone out partying for, like, at least 15 years before having a baby at 35, so I wasn't really itching for that. I was, you know, a grown up with a baby!

As far as co-sleeping, quite frankly, it was the best way I could actually get sleep while my kid was a baby and it rolled into an arrangement I'm quite comfortable with still to this day. I lay down with her and read my Kindle (or pass out) while I cuddle her and she falls asleep. Then after a while I break out and enjoy the rest of my night, if I'm not too tired. She can go to sleep on her own, of course, it comes with some argument when it must happen, because who wouldn't prefer to be cuddled to sleep? Oh right...my husband! Which is why not sleeping in bed with him when I don't feel like it doesn't matter. Sex and sleep are two very different things, which many co-sleeping critics just can't seem to get their heads around. And they must be very unimaginative. 

This is one of Badinter's gripes, that co-sleeping and such creates a rift between husband and wife. It doesn't have to, though. After skimming the article and homing in on Badinter's emphasis on the importance of not letting sex fall to the wayside after becoming a mother, I asked my husband if he thought breastfeeding and co-sleeping, or having a kid in general has affected our sex life. He said, "Well it's more vanilla..." I argued that the frequency was about the same (and better than most from statistics I read) and that I am not willing to pay a babysitter for us to go "swing" (haha). So we'll have to be like those 60-year-olds we saw on our honeymoon when we went to Cap D'Adge. But, I digress, quite frankly, it's not the childcare that saps my sex drive, its the vicissitudes of life and my own head. Nothing about the logistics of where people sleep.

And, more about husbands and AP. All I have seen from the culture, now that I am aware of it, has been really involved dads who babywear, et cetera, and are on-board with it all. My personal take is that early infancy is largely the domain of the mom, and for me there was little escaping that and I didn't want to. As my child started getting older, though, and certainly now, my husband plays a huge role, especially for someone who works full time outside of the home. He often spends whole Saturday afternoons with her while I read or do some other stuff I want to do and have "me" time.

As far as diapering, I did use disposable for about 9 months. I felt like I didn't want to be bothered with diapers til I had the mothering thing down. Then my baby got so deliciously fat from all the breastmilk she was drinking around the clock that the disposables didn't fit her chubby little legs right so I explored cloth and fell in love with the cute styles and that was it. It was no big deal to wash them either. Really, no big deal. 

I could go into the same boring details about making my own baby food. I mean, why shouldn't babies, when they're ready to eat, just eat mashed up versions of real food anyway? And how hard is it to mash up an avocado, a banana or a baked sweet potato? Uhm, not hard.

When it was time for my maternity leave to be over (16 weeks where I live, which I funded through acquired sick leave over the course of my 7 years with the organization), I decided she was too precious and I couldn't leave her. Thus began my lovely now nearly 5-year sabbatical from full-time office drudgery, including the hour commute, and my foray into independent consulting. I fear (fear is not the right word, but am not exactly chomping at the bit to...) going back to the grind one day, actually, as inevitable as it seems as my kid gets older and goes on her way through school.

So, I don't get the oppression. It's "oppressive" to have to work for a living, but most adults accept that.

My part-time hobby has been hate-reading (I've really got to stop, but...) and so I would actually love to read The Conflict, but I refuse to give this bitch any of my money, and it doesn't appear to be in the library system, yet. I've purchased other books of people I don't particularly care for, but I can't do it for this one. As Granju points out in her Slate posts, Badinter is a billionaire executive of a PR company representing some of the biggest formula interests out there. And while I am not as much a formula/big business hater as some, I do think they push the envelope when it comes to being the ones who truly pressure women, so it is more than a little disingenuous for Badinter to come out with these high-minded views about pressure on mothers today.

It seems to me the AP contingent is pretty limited and it's still looked on as "funny" (or quaint, or "isn't she a cute little hippie) to do a lot of the things we do, like extended breastfeeding especially and the co-sleeping. So I would hardly say there's this huge pressure. Also, most moms, whether they want to or not, do go back to work after six months probably at the longest. I'm the one that feels a little like the freakish weirdo here—not that I don't secretly like that a little bit!

On a broader scale policy level (because I guess I just do have to go there) I think that denying women's biology—we have babies, we lactate, most of us actually want to be with the babies for at least a good number of months probably beyond six when they're first born—and forcing them into the mold of maleness in the name of equality is not the answer. Setting up state-run creches, having moms strap machines to their breasts while they're working, or manufacturing faux milk so they can work (work, work, work—how some idolize work) seems all like trying to jam square pegs in round holes to me. I think a truly progressive society allows for different types of people to contribute and does best to be innovative in coming up with ways to enhance what people naturally want to do instead of patchworking or slapping band-aids on reality to make a woman match up perfectly with a man.

Unexpected wisdom

So I mentioned in last week's post that I was reading Bloom (finding beauty in the unexpected) by Kelle Hampton and that it was helping me fall asleep (perhaps implying it was boring). I never read her blog, but I'd heard about the book and thought it would be up my alley in the sense that I like to read about how people overcome hardships. It's inspirational for me and I like to be reminded that I should be grateful for my life. See, she had a baby who was born with Down syndrome, Nella, and she was totally not ready for this. I thought the book would detail the hardships, the sorrow, the awful feelings, the difficulties.

It wasn't like that at all, though, it was mostly about joy and how she had so many friends that helped her through it, and so, yeah, it was a little boring, til somewhere along the line, about halfway through, she seemed to dig deeper into the challenging feelings she was having and it started to hit me. And I saw, too, that including so much good stuff is really necessary in her telling her story.

Sure, in the beginning, she admitted some pretty heavy feelings of disappointment that Nella was not the "perfect" baby she'd imagined, even saying she wanted to take her older, "normal" child and run away. I totally got this and didn't judge at all. I am pretty sure I would have felt the same—and worse. But the sadness in the beginning was quickly (and I mean quickly) trumped by the fact that she had a really, really strong support system of friends and family. Hampton is one of those women who is really into ceremony, pretty things, celebrations, making big, crafty, coordinated deals out of stuff—which is soooo not me and was mildly grating at first. But, in a way, it made her memoir all the more intense because of the contrast that provided when she didn't have the "perfect" baby. In the end, though, her flair and attention to beauty, and her inclusion of her baby Nella in her cutesy ways, I think was part of what helped her overcome the emotional challenges of the situation (that and her network of friends). Hampton just tried to approach life one day at a time and keep things are "normal" as possible—and Nella is absolutely adorable in the many pictures included in the book.

It wasn't the friends and the keeping things normal and the one day at a time that hit me most, though, it was her observations toward the end, after she faced thoughts of the future, realizing having an older child, or grown child with Down Syndrome would be very different from having a baby with it. She says:

The thing is, we don't really know what the future looks like. And that thought takes my breath away just as much as it calms me into a place where I am forced to enjoy this very moment.

How true are those words for anybody and everybody?

And what really got to me, and what is really lacking for me personally, is her revelation about the interconnectedness of people. She says:

I realized that day, for the first time, that finally Down syndrome meant something to me beyond my own girl. It was a part of my life, but I recognized it was a part of a lot of other people's lives too. And if it wasn't Down syndrome, it was something. I felt connected to everyone there is a way I hadn't in a long time, but I also felt guilty—ashamed that it took my own pain, my own connection to this new world to bring me here, to the larger picture...

...Since Nella was born I have contemplated my own selfishness and the need to feel comfortable in life to the point that I could write a thesis on it...challenged myself...to...open my comfort receptors to the vast degree of misfortune that exists in the world but ultimately thrusts us toward growth and understanding.

Just when you think someone is all matching jumpers, hot pink flower headbands and fluff, they go and drop serious knowledge like that on you, and you, too are so humbled. (At least I was.)

In researching for this post, I Googled "Kelle Hampton" to try to find other reactions and material on the web, and was a little surprised to find Google self-populate with terms like "Kelle Hampton hate" and "Kelle Hamtpon annoying." How can you actually hate on someone with a disabled child who is earnest and sweet and open, no matter what little personality clashes you may have with them? It seems like other people with disabled children feel they have license to hate because they're living it, too, and they resent Hampton's alleged veneer of "perfection." That's their prerogative, I guess, but it rubs me the wrong way in much the same way the Scary Mommy book in that it seems like so much bitterness and sour grapes to hate on someone who is "doing it," who is happy and having success, and totally rocking it. And make no mistake, Kelle Hampton set out to "rock it" with mothering Nella (and her older child) and she is. She worked hard putting herself out there and with fundraising for others before that baby was even a year old! She glows, her children glow and she is inspiring!

Bloom reminded me of the importance of people coming together, the importance of being open. I have a tendency to close myself in. To think I am so different from most people. To be judgmental. Even when I try to work on my spirituality for a couple of weeks, I then backslide into my old self. I shudder to think of what awful lessons and pain I might have to suffer through to internalize the lesson I obviously need to learn. I stop myself and am so grateful I have not, so far, had to suffer, and think I better take the lesson from books as I can and get more serious about an attitude change.


POSTSCRIPT:
I think if I had a child with Down syndrome, I would end up approaching it just the same way Hampton did in terms of trying to live life and "normally" as possible. Dressing the kid up cute. Doing as much as you could do NOT differently. I, too, would have trouble with support groups and I wonder if I would "succumb" as she did. I remember when I was pregnant I had what I felt was a "scare" about Downs syndrome. That she didn't test is huge, to me. I would always test, which I know says something kind of awful about me that I just don't know what else to say about. At the same time, I think that if I birthed a baby with a disability such as this, I would, too, fiercely rise to the occasion. Following is an old blog entry from that time.

From February 2007

So I’m feeling a little wacked out with what I guess are typical pregnant mom worries and just need to get it all out.

My stats: I’m 34 years old, 21 weeks pregnant with my fist child right now, will just have turned 35 when the baby is born. In my first tri, I had the nuchal fold screen for Downs, etc. done and got back very encouraging results showing a very low risk (like 1 in 6,000).

Then at the appropriate time, I got the quad screen. When my midwife called to tell me the results, she told me I was negative for NTDs and Trisomy 18, and that we didn’t need to worry about the Downs results, since I had already had the nuchal fold and those were so good. I accepted this at the time, and we discussed how the nuchal fold tests were much more reliable than the AFP/quad screen tests for Downs. But, what she did NOT tell me was that the results from the AFP were actually in for the Downs risk and they showed an increased risk of about 1 in 135 or something. I just happened to find this out yesterday when I came in for a checkup and actually looked through my chart myself.

Now, I understand that the AFPs are notorious for “false positives” and that the nuchal fold is better for detecting Downs, so I shouldn’t worry. And I understand that this is perhaps why the midwife who reported the results of my second screen reported them in the way she did…perhaps to avoid alarming me. I spoke to another midwife at the practice yesterday, and she concurred that I should not worry about the AFP results because the nuchal fold results were so good. She even said that once patients get the nuchal fold, they don’t even usually get screened again with a quad that includes Downs, but only a screen for NTDs.

But, I still am feeling a little weird about all this…I really don’t think getting an amnio is a good idea at this point, since by the time I get the results, it would be too late to do anything about them. So, I’m just trying to have a positive attitude and trust that all will be well…

I decided to go for an ultrasound as soon as possible, just to sort of assuage my fears by looking at the little organs and stuff, and since I heard that the 20-week ultrasound is standard practice in the traditional medicine. We’ll see how that goes. For now, we’re off to New York for a weekend getaway.

French parenting? Comme ci, comme ça

I have to stop posting because I actually have a ton of work to do, but I realize I never wrote about the "French parenting book," Bringing Up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting, that was all the rage about a month ago.

I thought we'd heard the last on that one and I'd missed the window of blathering on...I mean...blogging...about it, but apparently, it lingers. Yesterday's New York Times had an opinion piece that springboards from the book, bemoaning the American "activities" culture and how it wears on us poor parents.

This latest piece is kind of iffy in its applicability, to me, because the writer's kids are now teens and so shuttling them to activities in general seems less ridiculous than shuttling toddlers and preschoolers or even gradeschool kids to activities. By the time kids are teens, these activities—sports, theater, music, etc.—might actually matter as far as rounding out their resumés for college acceptance and even if you're not that kind of person, the kids are old enough themselves to know what they want to do, how they want to spend their time, and so if they actually want to go to the activities, I can see why a parent would be compelled to make it happen. Although, apparently even activities for teens are less hectic in scheduling and less oppressive to parents in Europe (that huge amorphous place) than in America.

For me, right now, though, I detest kid activities. (This is in contrast to preschool where I can drop her off and go away for four hours.) Whenever I have tried to sign my kid up for a class or activity, we've dropped out (or want to). It's either been because the classes were so very lame and it seemed like the kinds of things they were doing we could do better on our own at home without the aggravation (art, gardening, music), or, it simply wasn't my kid's cup of tea (soccer) or the instructor's approach was too one-size-fits all (swimming). I don't judge cheap park district classes too harshly. You get what you get. But, I don't see the point of forcing a little kid to "stick to something" they don't like, that they didn't even ask to be signed up for. My kid seems to really like playing at home and so that's what we mostly do. For my part, I hate having to be a certain place at a certain time when it's not work related. Part of the glory of being a stay-at-home (or work-at-home) mom is the lazy schedule, right? It's not that I don't like to do stuff, I just like to do it when I like to do it. And that varies. But I digress...

What the future holds for activities, I do not know. I want to be fully open to let my kid do things she wants to do. I am very mindful of providing her with the opportunities to be in the mix and cautious about guarding her too much from the public, her peers, etc., as is my tendency. I do not want her to be an outcast like I felt I was. At the same time, I did participate in ballet, band, plays, chorus and in high school, sports. (And was an outcast anyway...I am just realizing...)

But enough about activities. There were lots of other parts of the book more applicable to my life as a mother of a young child. I thought I would love the book because of the results being touted (and complained about ) in the press surrounding it. Well-behaved kids! American parents miffed because their kids are just fine and, so what if they are demanding brats, we're American! Yay us! But, I found that although I feel I've had similar results (a smart, curious and relatively sensitive and well-behaved child that is generally a pleasure to be around—recent whining on day trip notwithstanding) I've arrived at them by a path very different than the typical French parent described in the book.

I had zero interest in early weaning, for example. I didn't really have a breastfeeding goal, I just did it one day at a time and figured I'd stop when she wasn't interested anymore. I had to coax the disinterest toward the end, but I'd say 33 months is good and long. Certainly longer than the 3 months (or less in France) and probably groan inducing for the average French mama. It was only in France that I was ever ridiculed for public breastfeeding, in fact. And, another instance, in France, was not ridicule but the funny curiosity of an elderly woman in a shop that was absolutely fascinated and amazed by my nursing my one-year-old in her Ergo as I checked out some groceries.

I also had no interest in sleep training or having my child "do her nights" as the French say. For better or for worse, so this day, I still lay down with my child as she falls asleep. It's my quiet time too and I love it. I never understood what the hurry was in making a baby fall asleep by themselves. Of course, my kid eventually learned to sleep through the night and so once I do put her down and she falls asleep 9 times out of 10, she won't make a peep til morning. I guess I could see someone wanting to "train" a kid who woke up in the middle of the night repeatedly and called for mom. (Note, I say KID not baby.)

I am very intrigued by the French and their eating habits and do think that adherence to meal times and having respect for food is probably a better way to go than constant snacking and letting kids say things are "yucky" (which I won't allow, though I will allow someone thinking something's yucky but keeping it to themselves). I tend to think people who go on about how much variety their kids eat are exaggerating. At least during the preschool years. And I know from experience that little kids' tastes seem to change from day to day. My girl used to love broccoli and even said it was one of her favorite foods as recently as six months ago. Now, she won't touch the stuff and she's on to carrots as her go-to veggie. Whatever the case may be, what she eats is not something I am going to sweat or argue about. I have argued about it, but I made a decision after finding that arguing is fruitless and draining not to.

I also believe in clear cut discipline for kids, making sure they know what's acceptable and unacceptable as far as public behavior, practical manners (not forced pleases and thank yous, but an awareness of those around you and not being disruptive to them) and such. These things I often find lacking in tales I read shared on attachment or "positive parenting" message boards and even in observing some of my kid's classmates. They often seem a little wild to me, and you do often hear Americans go on about how they can't take their kids anywhere or their kids are such terrors. But, that's their problem, I guess.

Overall, I came to the conclusion that I am clearly not French and that, while I enjoyed the book, I couldn't take it as any kind of gospel. As some of the commentary surrounding the book observed, the French parent the way French parents do largely because of the way their society is set up. It's generally more congruous than American society. I don't get the sense that there are all those subcultures there (crunchy mommy, slick working mommy, sarcastic scary mommy, Christian mommy, homeschool mommy, et cetera). And, of course, the maternity leave, state-sponsored daycares and cultural expectations for professional Parisian moms all come into play in the parenting culture in ways that just don't have parallels in America. At the same time, I don't know that I can say I feel I fit in with any of the American parenting archetypes (or stereotypes) either. That's something I'll have to give more thought to.

For today, it's time to tear my kid away from Curious George because we're going to try to squeeze in a nature hike before swimming lessons (which I was planning on ditching after earlier protests, but now the child wants to go to)...

Not scary in the way you think

I am so tired of hearing about how hard parenting is, and, at the same time, how no matter what you do, that the kids will be just fine.

Confessions of a Scary Mommy: An Honest and Irreverent Look at Motherhood: The Good, The Bad, and the Scary (2 colons! Really!!) covers both of those themes, and summarizes just about everything that rubs me the wrong way about popular chatter on "motherhood" these days. Blogger Jill Smokler goes on about how being a mom is just so not easy and that we need to all just tell it like it is, cut each other slack, not get hung up on perfection, et cetera. But when everyone is telling the same boring "I hate my kid sometimes and need wine" stories, what is anyone really "confessing"? And at what point does giving up on "perfection" cross over to just giving up altogether (on your own health and that of your child, on your marriage, your body, your intelligence)?

I had a feeling this book wouldn't be "my thing" but thought I'd give it a try—something fun, something light...maybe even a little provocative, considering the title. After all, the author was a graphic designer in her previous life (like me), now living in Baltimore (cool city chick?). Maybe there'd be some common ground there. Creative thinking. Grit.

Turns out, not really.

Smokler is a blogger and I quickly discovered the book was basically a ton of short, banal, chapters that seemed very obviously to be blog posts (I haven't followed the blog so I won't say for sure, but that is what they seem like). Each chapter started with a round of "mommy confessions" that people have made on her site—very few of which resonated with me, though there were some here and there that did.

Generally, I found the book and its confessions to be rather trite and nothing "scary" or that way out. In fact, it was laden with clichés and sounded like the typical drivel that would come out of any middling suburban housewife's mouth (which I guess is why it's so popular). I do think it reflects a general lack of depth and real introspection that many mommies who want to pretend they're "so bad" have these days. Smokler admits to spacing out during childbirth classes then is shocked to learn she'll poop on the delivery table. Well, duh. She doesn't do any learning to prepare for breastfeeding, then finds she "doesn't have enough milk"...what a surprise! But, those moms who actually do take the time to learn a few things about birth, babies, nursing, kids...they are viewed with disdain as "perfect"? Apparently, the middling mommies are threatened by those who might be just little more intellectually rigorous and actually enjoy learning about the best ways to care for the most important people in their lives. The only "scary" things about this book were the author's ignorance and this whole reverse judging/anti-judging thing wherein the self-proclaimed "slacker" moms judge those who try.

One thing I was excited about was when I read in a promo that Smokler hated the pool. I hate the pool, too! I'd get this chapter for sure! Reading it, though, I learned we hate the pool for different reasons. She, because of a weird skeevishness about body fluids, a neurosis about her kids drowning and a burning jealously of a woman with a better body than her. Me, because of the cheesy classic rock they play there, a neurosis about chemicals and the environment, but mostly because the other children at the pool are so. very. annoying. I can't understand being jealous or hating on women who are more attractive than me—at this age, it's just basically ridiculous. Younger women will often be more attractive just because they're younger, and others will be just because they work so much harder at it, and others, still, just because of genetics. It's not really worth hating over. Either work at it, or give up and accept your lot.

A part of her book I knew I wouldn't be able to relate to, and therefore thought wouldn't offend me, was the chapter on loving one child more than the other. Smokler cleverly works around this nontroversy by explaining she loves them all equally overall, but at different times likes one more than the other—basically determined by who's pissing her off the least at any given moment. Cute! I get it. What's not so cute is her weird gender pigeonholing in this chapter. She admits she "never wanted boys" and that she always envisioned herself as the mother only of "little creatures dressed in cute little pink bloomers and polka-dot ruffled bathing suits." She admits to not being proud of crying when she found out via ultrasound that her second child was going to be a boy, so I guess she gets points for that, but what bothers me more than her not wanting a boy is what she thinks girls should be. Later in the chapter she says her daughter is "the girl I always wanted. She loves her Barbie dolls and playing with my makeup and trotting around in my high heels..." OK, get me my barf bag!

I was on the fence about writing a "review" of this book. On one hand, I felt a little foolish for reading something I knew probably wouldn't resonate with me. Also, I don't want to be so negative about this poor woman. But, she's probably not actually poor, as the book seems to be pretty popular, as does her blog...and, well, just the vibe behind this book was so ridiculously DUMB, I had to respond. I think it's actually dangerously dumb and the fact that so many people are giving it 5-star reviews on Amazon and throughout the mommy blogosphere is kind of concerning.

Take, for example, the much-touted "Scary Mommy Manifesto" part of the book that Smokler also blogged about on Huffington Post the other day and met with much approval, nodding and high-fiving. Most of it is good and right on, basically don't judge other people. But...can't I have an opinion on things? I asked a friend who posted this manifesto on Facebook if it was OK for me to have an opinion as long as I didn't judge? (Very fine line there, I suppose.) And he replied brilliantly, "You can give a shit, just don't give them shit." So I can give a shit that you're, say, feeding your toddler M&Ms to shut them up in the grocery store (#2) and at the same time trying not to pass down your messed up body issues to them (#9)...but I can't tell you that you, yourself are CREATING body issues by sating the child with junk food and setting them up for overeating to comfort themselves? Here's a hint: don't let them get fat and they won't have body issues.Of course, I would never say something to a real, live person at a grocery store giving their kid junk food. On an individual person-to-person level, it's none of my business, but, this book and its resonance, as social commentary, can very much be my business, if I happen to be disgusted by the stupidity of it all.

This book is Idiocracy in the parenting microcosm. It's America's "we can be as stupid as we wanna be" because we're American attitude (as described by Tom Friedman in Flat, Hot and Crowded, which is more typical of the books I read, and is by contrast, brilliant, but I know, I know, different genre). Let's be as ignorant and lazy as we want and then make fun of people who strive to do better (those moms who bake from scratch, or are successful at breastfeeding, or actually enjoy spring break or snow days, don't hate their husbands, et cetera). I have yet to run into any of these moms others claim make them feel so horrible and low. I have yet to run into anyone who lords their choices over others in real life.

Yes, many of us have our educated opinions about what's best that we write about or believe, but we generally don't harass strangers on the street about them (or in my case, I don't even let on to people I actually know). I think a lot of the grumpiness on the part of the "Scary Mommy" types comes from within. They know they kind of suck, aren't really sure how to break out of their suckage, and are threatened by those they perceive to be doing better. Meanwhile those they perceive to be doing better are just earnestly living their lives, doing the best they can, but maybe are a little smarter and actually give more shits about their kids than being cool bad-girl mommies. The "Scary Mommies" take comfort in this weird sorority of mediocrity. It's cool. I get it. I just don't want it. I'd rather hang with my husband and kid than kvetch with malcontent mommies any day.

To Hell With All That—Flipping the Joneses the Bird, Namaste

I just finished reading Caitlin Flanagan's To Hell With All That, prompted by an interest in her after first reading her latest, Girl Land. The tag is "loving and loathing our inner housewife" and that dichotomy is there throughout the book. I'm never really completely sure what she's embracing or eschewing, and it may just be observational social commentary, not really pushing for anything, though it seems she leans toward the stay-at-home mom model, or at least acknowledges its value. She disses social climbers, from her apparently upperclass roost. She makes me glad I dropped out of "the game."

Flanagan tosses me back and forth with agreement and disagreement with her, or maybe more accurately between feeling an affinity then non-affinity. For example, I like how she critiques the middle class tendency toward social climbing ostentation with their fancy princessy weddings, but then later I don't see how someone who isn't even working could justify having a 9-5 nanny, even if she has twins.

She inspired me to purchase the book Home Comforts: The Art and Science of Keeping House by Cheryl Mendelson because I like to know how to do things and I like reading. But, on the other hand, I am not going to become superhomemaker. Actually, that’s not what the book is about. I think Flanagan uses it as more of a contrast to the Martha Stewarty world of flair and superficial graciousness when she deconstructs the oppressiveness of real housework in the post-feminist era. To me, the whole housework drudgery bit is so tired. In today's world, we have lots of modern machines and fairly low standards and low level of formality in our lives when it comes to keeping homes so I just don't see it as that difficult to maintain a generally acceptable living space and get home-cooked meals on the table.

Back to the mothering part, Flanagan seems very pleased with herself for staying home with her babies, but again, she had that nanny. What gives? She seems to write from a place of privilege, which is fine, suggesting a return to old-fashioned values re-enacted in a highly stylized 50s cum 80s manner, whereas my model is 1970s lower middle class. She expresses a certain disdain for the highly-engaged stay at home mom that rubs me a little the wrong way—even though sometimes I feel it, I'd never articulate it so plainly.

I liked a lot of Flanagan’s observations about the “executive child” and moms shuffling their charges round and round from one highly enriching activity to the next—a topic by now that has been hashed out ad nauseum but still seems to be “an issue” (To Hell With That was published in the mid-90s). She ties this in nicely with the “experts’” call for unstructured time and regular family dinners—which some experts say must be scheduled, ha ha. Flanagan observes that family dinner “requires a mother who considered putting dinner on the table neither an exalted nor a menial task, and also a collection of family members whose worldly ambitions are low enough that they all happen to be hanging around the house at 630." This is totally me and my household. And I know my kid is only 4, but while I see her participating in an activity or two, I don’t see it overtaking our lives and as I always remind myself—thank goodness I only have one so I can manage these sorts of things. Yet, in our family of 4, with two kids, we still managed this growing up.

Flanagan goes on to say "If children are to have unstructured time, they need a mother at home; no one would advocate a new generation of latchkey children. But she must be a certain kind of mother—one willing to divest her sense of purpose from her children's achievement. She must be a woman willing to forgo the prestige of professional life in order to sit home while her kids dream up new games out in the tree house and wait for her to call them in for a nourishing dinner. She must be willing to endure the humiliation of forgoing a career and of raising tots bound for state college."

I know she must be being facetious, or is she? Luckily for me, our state has some really, really fabulous colleges. Maybe the fact that I am hoping for the top state college just puts me in a different (lower?) league than those of whom Flanagan speaks (and herself?) but I don’t care. Epiphany: I am beginning to really see the glories of being a middle-class bohemian, being reasonably comfortable but not rich or caught up in social climbing—and not giving a fuck about the Joneses. This is me.

Flanagan also analyzes the "mommy wars" a bit, invoking Dr. Spock, citing "one of the most compelling appeals for full-time motherhood I've ever read" (her talking there):

"The important thing for a mother to realize is that the younger a child, the more important it is for him to have a steady, loving person taking care of him. In most cases the mother is the best one to give him this feeling of "belonging," safely and surely. She doesn't quit on the job, she doesn't turn against him, she isn't indifferent to him...If a mother realizes clearly how vital this kind of care is to a small child, it may make it easier for her to decide that the extra money she might earn, or the satisfaction she might receive from an outside job is not so important after all."

This was in regard not to those mothers who had to work to actually make ends meet or even those with special professional training who felt they must work because they wouldn't be happy otherwise, but to a third group who would just "prefer to, either to supplement the family income, or because they think they will be more satisfied themselves and therefore get along better at home..."

Flanagan, predictably, because she is one of those "professional" women, noted:

"Obviously he's right about a mother being uniquely suited for the full-time care of her children. What more persuasive argument could there be than his simple and moving description of the maternal bond? What he could not have predicted was that such a huge number of women would fall into his second category. Mothers with professional training are thick on the ground these days, and their desire to work is at once more complex and more profound than the great man imagined. To be a woman with an education and a desire to take part in the business of the world—to have a public life only one-thousandth as vital and exciting as Dr. Spock's—yet to have one's days suddenly dwindle to the simple routines of child care can handily diminish what is best and more hard-fought in a person. It isn't simply a matter of ‘extra money’ or ‘satisfaction.’ For many women the decision to abandon—to some extent—either their children or their work will always be the stuff of grinding anxiety and uncertainty, of indecision and regret."

To that, I was at first humbled, or softened, because I though, OK, maybe I was just never a professional or ambitious enough woman and that is why I could so easily opt to stay home with my kid for her 0-5 years. Also, it helped that I was able to work part time from home. Still, it wasn't a big deal. I like the work I do, but it's for money, it's a minor part of my identity that could be filled with something else if need be. Maybe that's why I don't get the issue for people who "don't need the money." Still, it's their choice—whatever.

But then, I sit here and think, how self-aggrandizing of them, of many of them, anyway. They're not all cancer-curing or even baby-delivering doctors, or even teachers, many are financiers just making money to make money and they love what they do, so vulgar. Some are producing crappy TV. I mean, these are the things you'd leave an infant in daycare for? And because they identify as “professionals” this is part of their identity they can’t let go of? It seems more just like an issue of different personality types to me, more than anything else. I know I must try to nurture my softened, humbled thoughts on this and set aside the critical ones because the negativity doesn’t do me any good personally. I guess it is helpful that I can identify my personality and to allow my focus to be on nurturing the positive in that, and if I have some underlying desire to be evangelical about it, highlight the ways it works for me instead of trashing other personalities.

Girl Land—Embracing the substance, transcending the style

Caitlin Flanagan's latest, Girl Land, discusses the challenges of raising girls in a cultural landscape devoid of "commonly held, child-appropriate moral values." She notes something I have definitely felt during my few years of parenting—that "the 'it takes a village' philosophy is a joke, because the village is now so polluted and so desolate of commonly held, child-appropriate moral values that my job as a mother is not to rely on the village but to protect my children from it." It's funny, I like the substance of much of what she says, though she's a completely different kind of woman than me, style-wise. In Girl Land, the things she positions as so essential for girls were not at all essential for me. Prom? Didn't go. But maybe that's my problem—or my advantage. I tend to eschew mainstream markers and rites of passage, and their associated confused trappings.

Many contemporary feminists seem quite flabbergasted, if not offended, by Flanagan's assertions in Girl Land. I don't buy them all wholesale, but they don't seem wholly unreasonable either. She tells parents to take a "15-minute tour" of the web, typing the word "porn" into Google and seeing what happens. Been there, done that. Yeah, there's a lot of scary shit out there. So, age-appropriate, you teach them that there are some really creepy people out there, on one hand, and on the other hand, that sexuality is complex, and what's most important is autonomy. She suggests parents make their girls' bedrooms "internet-free zones." I honestly don't know how I feel about this one, as someone who is often online all day long. She says that an adolescent girl needs quiet downtime for contemplation, and I actually agree with her on that point, moreso for reasons of quieting the mind than concerns about a girl getting into trouble with web-based sleaze. She also urges parents to get a girl’s father involved in her dating life. Agreed. Her father has to be realistic and already have an established, healthy, non-authoritarian relationship with her, though. She emphasizes that "giving a girl limits doesn't limit the girl." I really like much of what she has to say, but at the same time, the stylings of her "Girl Land" conjuring images of poster beds, pink pillows and princesses seems so contrived—not like my teen years, not how I envision my own girl, with her non-frilly tendencies.

She calls for a counter-culture, but seems a little stuck in old-fashioned, mainstream culture when it comes to how I’m reading her execution of things. I’m on board with her substance, though, if not her style. Flanagan writes:

The question parents of girls must ask themselves is to what extent they want their daughters raised within this culture, and to what extent they want to raise them within a counter-culture that rejects the commercialization of sexuality, the imperatives toward exhibitionism and crudeness. Creating a counterculture is hard work, but it can be done, and it is my strong belief that the young women who emerge from Girl Land having been protected from the current mainstream values are much stronger and more self-confident than those who have been immersed in it throughout their adolescences.

I think I can do this. I can admit to probably being out-of-touch with contemporary teen culture so I might not know “how bad it is out there.” I do read things about frat houses, bros, “slutty” girls and I see news items about how women are portrayed as sex objects in videos and fashion. I saw the trailer for an upcoming movie, Miss Representation, which “exposes how American youth are being sold the concept that women and girls’ value lies in their youth, beauty and sexuality.” I get it, but I have to ask, if so many people are aware of this, why does it continue? Do people just not have the guts to eschew mainstream cultural drivel? I can imagine someone saying I am naive and that it is going to be really hard to keep my kid from wanting to be a part of the crap culture when she is older. But, I am managing to create a healthy environment for her now in ways that, according to popular anecdote, many find difficult. So, maybe I have a good start, a leg up. But I have no doubt that I will have to remain vigilant. You know, actually be engaged with my kid and have a real relationship with her!

Not feeling "Torn" about my life choices

I read the first book in the New York Times "Motherlode" parenting blog's new book club. I'm glad I read Torn, and, as another commenter said on the site, more for the essays I didn't relate to. I already know about my life, and I learn a lot from being allowed into those of other people.

I enjoy this stuff—little sociological sketches. Personally, I'm not "torn" because I'm lucky enough to work part time from home while my kid is little and plan on mapping out my own schedule of ramping up the more she is in school. Although, now that we've made it through the baby years, I would be comfortable with her in care, if we needed to. There was really nothing to decide for me, my gut wouldn't let me put a baby in daycare and we could afford not to. What is the most "tearing", I think, are those who don't want to have their little ones in childcare but have to because they need the money.

As one might expect, the discussion over on Motherlode got pretty intense, treading into "Mommy War" territory with myself as a participant. The blog post for discussion had thoughts of readers who, to me, seemed a little dramatic and defensive. They felt that it was somehow insulting that it's even suggested that women are "torn" between home and work. "Of course I work." Some said. I think that may even be a title of one of the essays in Torn. At the end of the day, though, it's just a book of other people's experiences, none really that I felt super resonated with me, but many of which I found interesting.

I found the overall message (disappointingly to me, an old-fashioned girl) very, very pro-work for mothers, even of small children. But I really liked the essays that took a critical look at daycare and that highlighted some of the pleasures and benefits of staying home—"Muthering Heights" and "Harvard to Homemaker" come to mind.

In the Motherlode comments, much was made about so many people not having a choice in the matter of whether they would work or not, even with small children, and then there was the ensuing analysis of lifestyle choices, the proud "but I like to work" comments, all what anyone who reads parenting and mommy blogs would expect.

The question of "choice" brought to mind another book I recently read. I consider myself progressive in some areas and friendly to the interests of working people, but I read The Flipside of Feminism by Suzanne Venker and Phyllis Schlafly anyway. While I didn't find the book to be particularly well-written and the tone was, at times, catty, they offered some good ideas, among which are that young women might do well to plan for motherhood.

We're told we can "do it all" and we should go after our interests, go to college, etc. BUT young women might want to consider the reality of what working in different professions might mean and make informed choices based on the possibility that they might want to have children someday and they might be "torn" (as I think they should) about leaving infants in daycare. Young women should also choose partners who can support them, if having children and raising them in the 0-3 years themselves is important. You can't live on "love" and you can't eat love or pay the mortgage with just "love." Young women should be mindful of their spending habits and those of their boyfriends/potential husbands when they are single and dating. Why not start saving for that house and building a safety net just as soon as your student loans are paid (and try not to accrue much, if any loan debt). All these considerations would make it much easier for those women who want to stay home with young children to do so. My husband and I don't have particularly high paying jobs for the area in which we live, but, bless his heart, he was always planning to buy a house, get married and have a family and so he was saving for this before we even met and had his loans paid. As soon as we got serious, he set me straight to do the same. Of course, not all choices are right for all people, but I do think that young women (late highschool, early college) are not led to think through the whole picture of what their lives might hold. A couple days later, a writer's letter to Motherlode's Lisa Belkin described a scenario where she was doing just that, preparing in the way she felt was right for the distinct possibility of future motherhood.

One commenter on Motherlode wrote of how she found intellectual stimulation in parenting. (The complaint of many being that staying home with small children is positively mind-numbing). This was met with some cackling that this could not possibly true and that this woman is making much more of the day-to-day reality of parenting than it really is. My thought was, since so many are keen on the "not judging" ( we hear this alot when we observe that we don't think daycare is a great place for babies) I don't think we should judge what different people find intellectually stimulating. Actually, I think its best when people are able to find intellectual stimulation where they are, wherever they are. I thought it was cool that the woman found this place for herself and observed that if more people had bigger minds they'd find this, too.

Toward the end of the arguments, I felt I, again, shared some eye-opening exchanges about motherhood and working and how women feel about it all. Reading heartfelt comments from people about their tough choice certainly is softening. Even hearing from career women about how much they love their children and how they feel their bond with their child is as good as mine is softening (I don't know that I believe it, but that fact that they want to believe it is touching.) I still feel very firm about my belief that, if at all possible, kids 0-3 don't really belong in long-term childcare. Of course, I understand the reality of life for many people today. It's frustrating. What I really don't want to be is a mean, guilt-mongering, holier-than-though person. In another Motherlode discussion where daycare came up, I tried to make clear that my anti-daycare stance isn't anti working people, it's anti the system that has daycare as a solution to problems of not being able to manage a household on one income, or single mothers, or dads out of work. It's anti- policy and social concepts that have led us to a place where two incomes are needed just to survive (gee, thanks, feminism!) and where there are fewer social/family community connections (and yes, government assistance to some lesser degree) that offer relief to folks on hard times. My anti-daycare view is not anti-individual, anti-working families or anything like that. Still, that so many upper middle class feminists blithely act like its no problem to put babies in daycare because their careers are more important, and then criticize those who "opt out" is troubling— and angering.

The anger dawned on me as I was finishing up Torn tonight and I came across the Katy Read essay I previously blogged about, on the regrets of a stay-at-home mother (all financial). In it she invokes Linda Hirschman, Leslie Bennetts and the like, and, I was reminded why I get so angry. I mean, work if you want and have someone else look after your baby all day, but don't act like I am doing something wrong (or foolish or bad or against some "sisterhood") because that's not something I could stomach.