Same dribble Down Under on 'slacker moms'

I follow some Twitterers in Australia because it gives me fresh tweets in the middle of the night when I sometimes get up and read my Kindle, lying in the dark, next to my kid. I've gotten into this weird habit where I'll wake up in the middle of the night and leave my husband's bed then go into my kid's room and sleep with her on the full-size floor futon—plenty of room for both of us and it's firmer and she is a super sound sleeper so the light of the Kindle doesn't bother her like it would my husband, plus she's got a humidifier in there and I just like it!

So I came across this Sydney Morning Herald article that's been making a bit of a splash: Over-mothered? No, over mothering and it's the same sort of theme I've seen in American mommy culture that I think they're calling the "slacker mom movement." The BlueMilk blogger responded to the post with what I thought were some valid retorts and lots of good links.

A big part of the response was pointing out that it's all cool and liberating for privileged white mamas to be lackadaisical, but if a poor, brown skinned mama went this route, she'd be under scrutiny from more powerful elements than the neighborhood biddies and quite possibly at risk of a visit from Child Protective Services. I get that, and that's valid, but I have to say I'm a little weary of so many discussions turning to my privilege. I know I am lucky and I know I am blessed (or whatever)—and yes, privileged—but each in our own ways we're all muddling through. And hearing other white women trot out the white privilege thing seems like their safe place to critique something, you know, get on the side of some underdog, further under and doggier than the hapless slacker moms.

The response had some other insightful aspects on how "the slacker mother movement seems to be taking a nasty turn lately towards judging mothers it sees as being too dedicated to the pursuit of motherhood." Which would resonate with me if I gave a shit about whether or not some random blatherer on the internet was judging me. (Ph.D. in Parenting had a good post about this the other day.)

Maybe it is because of my place of privilege (oh man, now I'm doing it!) that I have never felt pressure to "mother" a certain way. I did the homebirth thing, I breastfed 33 months, I stayed home with the kid in her earliest years, we co-slept. But the child has seen a lot of Dora and Diego. I've yelled, I've spanked (regret, regret, regret). The child had to have several cavities filled when she was four because I just kind of spaced on the notion that she needed to have her teeth brushed after every meal. (I didn't, and I didn't have many cavities, but maybe I have very unusual teeth, or different saliva, or didn't eat as many foods with sugars in them—who knows, I messed up!) I don't feel excessively guilty about the teeth or the TV, but I'm not going to glibly brag about it either and take on "slacker mom" as some sort of persona.

What I don't get about the "slacker mom" thing is why people would revel in this sense of being crappy at something and not caring—especially when it comes to something as precious and important as one's child. "Slacking" seems to be about backlash against some standard of perfection, but I'd argue that this standard was never real and smart women know this. "Slacking" is just too reactionary.

I don't really embrace the "slacker" persona in anything I do, though. I try to do my best at work, I try to do my best eating healthfully and staying in shape. I try to be kind-hearted and compassionate. Yes, I fall short in these areas, but I don't feel threatened by "perfection" and get mad and run to the "slacker" credo, just saying "fuck all," like, forever and always. I just say, hey, I'm human and I'll just try to do better tomorrow.

The real me is the mom who gets down on the floor and plays with the child—when I feel like it, which is sometimes, but not always. I do art projects...sometimes. I bake for the child's birthday (I am not really so into bringing treats to school because I don't believe school is a place for this and if every kid for every birthday brought treats, they'd really just be having too many treats...) I read to her, do math and science projects with her, a lot of the time, but not all the time. I do enjoy building with Lego. Overall, I'd say I'm into it, but I like my web surfing, beery nights with friends and long runs alone, too. That's what being a normal, balanced person is. At my core though, I have to admit I am pretty passionate about my kid, and I don't care if that's not cool.

I understand the Jane Caro piece is supposed to be humor, but I think that joke is played out.

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.

 

A little help, please? Oh...nevermind.

After reading The Conflict and at my early parsing of TIME's attack on attachment parenting, I felt like I'd seriously turned the corner on thinking the U.S. should do more to support families. The TIME article seemed to me to be shameful deflection (strategic?) from the need for Americans to push for the first-world support other industrialized nations have for families, and I was particularly inspired by Chris Hayes speaking about this on his show.

But, I am uncertain again. While I could get over the fact that most of the mainstream commentary I've read reflects complete cluelessness of the fact that their corporate/capitalist task masters delight at them squabbling over how long to breastfeed and denigrating the value and importance of parenting in favor of work, work, work for the machine, I can't get over some people's willful ignorance and denial—even to the point of criticizing and turning away those who would help them, as illustrated by Whoopi Goldberg's comments on The View which were echoed by Elizabeth Hasselbeck. They griped about an initiative put forth in New York to support breastfeeding in hospitals, with Hasselbeck particularly complaining about being woken by lactation consultants reminder her she needed to breastfeed. Well, sorry, honey, you do have to feed them at least every two hours, there's really no way around it, except, uhm...formula. So that's why you want the formula because you can't be bothered to feed your infant in the middle of the night? You don't want to be bothered?

Indeed, on a recent New York Times Motherlode blog post, commenters reacted to the question of whether Americans really do want to encourage breastfeeding. One "Ivy League-educated, white collar professional who votes Democrat" located in DC said, "Honestly, I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to breastfeed my future children...I don't want to be chained to them and I want my partner to have the chance to bond with them as much as I do. I just wish it were more socially acceptable to say so." Willful ignorance. Even from the supposedly educated. What can you do?

I commented also, observing that I don't think Americans really do want to encourage breastfeeding. Every time I have a discussion with someone outside of an immediate circle of people I know breastfed (like from my natural birth class, etc.) it devolves into countless tales of how they wanted to so badly and yet couldn't and how they are tired of hearing about it and being made to feel guilty. It's as thought they can't understand the difference between appropriate education and public health messages versus their own personal experiences, and they refuse to hear, even in a very non-confrontational and abstract way, that there were things that could have been done differently that might have helped them succeed. These things aren't said to make them feel bad, but to demonstrate that it wasn't their fault and that women do need more education and support—and still they are angry and don't want to hear it. Then, we have voices like Goldberg and Hasselbeck slamming breastfeeding support initiatives. I am beginning to think people don't care and don't want help. Kind of like obesity...people are willfully ignorant and undisciplined. I can't imagine how breastfeeding advocates go on with the hopeless American public. What's troubling, though, is having a desire to move toward a national healthcare program, because it's the right thing to do and being disgusted at all the cost savings and health benefits lost that could be had if more women were committed to breastfeeding.

In a Facebook discussion with a mom-blogger "friend" I tried to cool the escalation concerning the TIME cover by noting the Chris Hayes story on helping out parents, you know, why can't we all get along and work together to get parents the support they need...only to have her say, "I totally agree. There are more pressing issues that should be delved into than the breastfeeding debate. But two words I feel should never be uttered in the same sentence are ‘politics’ and ‘parenting’ [emphasis mine]. Especially when certain figures are spouting off in books about something they have no idea. Take a step down and see what real middle-class parents go through, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. No nannies, no cushy bank account, no advisers whispering in their ear or ghostwriters on the payroll." OK, OK, I get the anti-Ann Romney dig, but, how are we supposed to make change if we can't talk about parenting and politics together? Duh.

Children can't really speak up for themselves. It's up to us to do it and these people don't even want to do that? They'd rather just kvetch about how hard parenting is and how much they can't wait for "wine o'clock" and love to drink and swear! Oooh, you are so bad! YAWN.

So, people need help, but they don't want help. Or they want help in the form of free childcare, but don't bother them about breastfeeding? I don't get it.

It could easily be argued that supporting parents is the right thing to do and that things like protected jobs, subsidized parental leave, enhanced laws supporting breastfeeding and such are good for society overall because well-tended-to infants and children grow into better citizens. Although, not everyone thinks so, and people can't even really agree on what infants and small children need, even with humans having had a model for thousands of years, the expectations of which are coded into a baby's instinct—and into mothers if they aren't completely damaged or brainwashed by modern society.

Another commenter on the Motherlode post about Americans' view on breastfeeding noted of state supported benefits for new parents "...these are costly social policies. And they make sense for Sweden and France, because they have relatively low populations that are aging—low birth rates!—and they want desperately to ENCOURAGE people to have children. In the US, we have a huge population—overpopulation!—and huge immigration (much of it illegal)—and the last thing we need is "more babies." We have way, WAY too many babies as it is. Our policies reflect OUR reality—that we wish to (mildly) discourage childbearing, or at least keep it to one or two children per family." And, that, too resonated with me from a strictly short-term, pragmatic perspective.

As for me, I feel fortunate to have had the time to plan for a child and, with my husband, take matters into our own hands to give her the early childhood we wanted her to have, and that we think is important.

I read a really fascinating review of The Conflict just this morning that touches on an aspect of it I had not yet explored. One part of the review riffs on a 1980 article in which social critic Robert Crawford used the term “healthism” to refer to a new preoccupation of the middle class with personal health and wholesome lifestyles, drawing a connection between healthism and political disengagement. This is done as a parallel to the "naturalist parenting" (or attachment parenting) philosophy that The Conflict is critiquing. The review noted, "A sense of impotence—'I can’t change the world, but at least I can change myself,' as Crawford put it—fed the mania for vitamins, exercise, herbal supplements. And in turn, as people poured more energy into their own health, they had less time and inclination to invest in civic or political involvement. Since 1980 this outlook does not seem to have abated, to say the least, and for parents it applies doubly to their children. In shaping contemporary parenthood, this retreat to the private sphere has been at least as important as a retreat to nature."

And after reading that, the notion of "the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world," however patronizing this can sometimes sound, came to mind. Although I think the reviewer might not be on board with this "retreat" into what we can control (more of a refocus, I would say), I do feel somewhat politically disengaged—and confused by my fellow countrymen and women about what the heck they want for their own children anyway. So why wouldn't I retreat (refocus) and just bolster my own child in the way I see fit? I don't feel a connection with many other Americans about raising children based on the majority of comments about attachment parenting and such, and these people don't seem to really want help, so, what can one do but strike out on their own?

The icing on the crappy store-bought, hydrogenated oil and corn syrup laden cake was an article in Mother Jones today (by a man) completely politicizing breastfeeding in the cheapest way, using a false support of this basic human function as a way to slam Mitt Romney. Again, I'm not exactly a Romney fan, but this is garbage.

So, I would tell women who are looking to breastfeed and otherwise parent on the continuum as much as possible—mamas, you are on your own. You and your, hopefully, conscious, enlightened and supportive husband. You're not going to get anything of value from this American society for a damn long time, if ever.

So, what did TIME have in mind?

As a mother and a graphic designer/visual artist, I was very interested in the controversial TIME magazine cover highlighting its feature on Dr. William Sears and the the philosophy he espouses—attachment parenting.

After my initial personal reaction, I thought I'd discuss the chosen cover image and its effectiveness from a communications standpoint.

First, the chosen cover:


Do you think TIME is aiming to portray what this mother is doing as good, or even normal?

Does the child look OK? Is he comfortable, relaxed, happy? (It should be noted that this is an actual mother and child, they are not models, and she actually does still breastfeed him. He is 3.)

In my view, the answers to all of these questions are NO.

The woman’s pose is somewhat defiant, though her stare is one of relative equanimity.

The child has to stand on a chair to reach her, rather than her coming to the child’s level.

Now, a contrasting cover shot that didn’t make the cut:


The child is in arms, eyes closed and the mother is seated.

She is non-combative, still with the look of calm on her face, but with her head tilted toward the child and her arms cradling him. He is in his own, peaceful, private world, unaware of the camera.

In spite of the child’s size, it’s far less jarring than the first photo. It probably still would have raised eyebrows in a culture where most don’t breastfeed past 6–12 months, but not as much as the chosen image.

My thoughts on the imagery and the public reaction:

In reading lots and lots of online comments on the cover—from people who did read the article, but mostly people who apparently did not read it (they didn’t know the mom and son were real, for example)—I found a range of reactions but they generally fell into some main categories.

Skeeved out

Many, many of the commenters felt this image of a preschool-age child breastfeeding was “gross, sick, repulsive and perverted” and expounded with comments accusing the mother of exploiting the child, saying that he is going to be made fun of when he’s older, saying this is going to make him “go gay,” and so on. Even as a proponent of breastfeeding for as long as is mutually agreeable to mother and child, I can understand how the average joe or jane citizen might find the image at least a little bit off-putting simply because the majority of Americans think breastfeeding is something for infants only and it’s not something they’re used to seeing. Still, I found many of the negative reactions to be needlessly angry and hostile. The jokes at the child’s expense were not funny to me

Pissed off, type A

Another sizable crop of reactions were defensive, likely focusing on the headline, “Are You Mom Enough?” Many women were offended by what they viewed as yet another endorsement of breastfeeding being pushed on them. The über-popular blogger Scary Mommy mocked up the cover expressing this, and her followers on Facebook mostly rallied in agreement. This is an interpretation I didn’t quite understand, admittedly not only because my own experience puts me in a very pro-breastfeeding place, but also because to me it seemed clear that TIME was not trying to present the practice depicted as something necessarily positive. The “Are You Mom Enough?” headline seemed to me to be sarcastic and when coupled with the assertion that “…attachment parenting drives some mothers to extremes…” it is made clearer that TIME was looking at this style of parenting with a critical eye, certainly not endorsing it wholesale (if at all).

Along with this sort of defensiveness, though to a lesser extent, was another, more predictable sort, complaining about the woman’s attractiveness and that she could not possibly be a breastfeeding mother and look like this. I’d say this might have been another strategy choice by TIME to inflict just a little pang of jealously among women, for not only are they competing in the area of “good mothering” but also in “hotness.”

Pissed off, type B

A smaller handful, mostly attachment parenting supporters, felt the cover was sensationalist for their own reasons: it not being representative of the reality of extended breastfeeding—which is usually considered to be breastfeeding for more than one year, but is not usually done quite so…shall we say…flagrantly as is depicted in the cover cover image. Indeed, one of the critical comments from a non-supporter of this kind of parenting snidely questioned whether this mom would pull her son aside for some breast milk after soccer practice if orange wedges weren’t good enough. Realistically, most people who breastfeed, still, at these older ages do it perhaps once or twice a day for bed time or quiet time alone at home.

Also the singular focus on breastfeeding for an article that was supposed to explore attachment parenting overall (of which breastfeeding is an important part, but only one of eight tenets) was puzzling to those who understand AP. This picture didn’t capture the spirit of attachment parenting that parents who practice identify with—mostly that it is very child-centered. (I think most people familiar with and supportive of attachment parenting would have preferred the second photo I show above.) Overall, it seemed to offend attachment parent proponents, though I did see one (and there could likely be more, but this is definitely a minority view) commenter that thought the cover was great in its defiance and her look of just daring someone to give her shit about how she chooses to raise her child.

Generally pissed off and fed up

Perhaps the most common response of all among those identifying as mothers was disgust at a media outlet once again “pitting women against each other” or “fueling the mommy wars.” These comments were often tagged on to those expressed by the previous A and B “pissed” versions, encompassing a range of secondary views on the matter, but generally saying “leave moms alone,” “we’ve had enough” and “we won’t play this game!”

Consensus?

So, what message did the cover convey? TIME skeeved out and pissed off a lot of people!

Obviously, it meant different things to different people—as images often do. But in this case, the meanings seemed particularly disparate.

If TIME sought to critique attachment parenting harshly, I would say it was somewhat effective conveying this with the cover, but not entirely. Many—moms especially—missed that point and were put on the defensive, thinking the question was straightforward and assuming they weren’t “Mom Enough” according to whatever this standard TIME was reporting on was.

If TIME was aiming to bring forth a better understanding of attachment parenting, the cover image was a huge fail, because it’s depicting something with many nuances in an extreme manner. It could be argued that TIME was trying to show one facet of attachment parenting—the so-called extremist—but I’m not sure that its audience is well-versed enough in the subtleties to actually understand that.

Some people chided TIME as a cheap rag scrambling for relevancy that has pulled stunts like this before, with a history of being provocative (Hitler as Man of the Year, 1938). Others reluctantly cheered its business savvy and marketing brilliance for stirring the pot and creating controversy to push sales, regardless of the quality of journalistic integrity.

I suppose it matters what your metric is—sales or clear messaging that gets your point across. Not knowing TIME’s aim (though I have my own suspicions) it’s not clear whether its message was conveyed, but if I had to call it, I’d say it’s a win in the attention grabbing/sales side but a lose in the clear messaging side—that much seems obvious.

Practice what you preach: Do we value moms in early childhood or do we not? And what is government's role, anyway?

The left is now taking umbrage at remarks of Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney made concerning moms on welfare going to work. (Note, I am not pro-Romney by any stretch, and plan on voting for Obama, even though I'm not altogether thrilled with him, he's what we have right now and he's centrist enough to not be too dangerous either way, in my opinion. This is not the first time I've felt at odds with the "progressive" agenda.) "Women who stay at home to raise their children should be given federal assistance for child care so that they can enter the job market and have the dignity of work," Romney said in January, according to the Huffington Post article linked. Questions about whether staying home with kids is work and what constitutes "dignity" aside (for now), I don't see the problem with this when we consider it through the lens of the post-feminist world we're now living in.

All around the internet I constantly see working- and middle-class women and men calling for federally-subsidized childcare. You can't even question whether daycare is good for little ones or not without getting flamed. That infants and young children spend their days in centers or homes other than their own, being cared for by paid workers, not mom (or dad) seems to be normal and very much accepted in our society today. This situation, in fact, is even encouraged by many as good for socializing the baby/child and, of course, good for the mom, whether she needs to work for money or her own glorious personal fulfillment, which of course, could not possibly be found in caring for her child(ren) (if only for a few short years). I hear cautionary tales from women who felt they had to stay in the workforce just in case their husband left them and because they wanted to be independent. I guess those calling for subsidized childcare don't have a problem being dependent on a government program, though. Who's your daddy?

But anyway, about if daycare is "good enough" (or again even good—as is argued) for middle-class kids, then why is it not good for poor kids? Ideologically, you can't have it both ways. Is daycare bad or not? If it's not bad, as everyone seems to say it's not (I have my own views on this) then what's the problem with having a poor woman be working or seeking work as a condition for her federal financial assistance? If middle class people supposedly must send their kids to daycare to make ends meet, why should a poor person NOT have to send their kids to daycare, and then get assistance? Just because it breaks certain people's hearts to not be with their young children doesn't mean daycare is bad, right?

Or maybe it is?

Anyone who's familiar with me or my writing knows that I would not put my under-two in daycare if I had any choice whatsoever in the matter. That said, do I think it is permanently damaging or horrible to the point that I couldn't bear it if I was in the situation that I had to, truly, truly had to? No. The kid will muddle through. I kind of have a problem inasmuch as it's my business (it's not) with people who can afford to not work, or scale back, who put infants in daycare, but at the end of the day, it's not my business. When you talk public policy, though, it sort of becomes the business of anyone who pays taxes or has to share the country, and its public schools, public problems, etc. with the other millions of Americans out there.

So, maybe we need to ask again and not be afraid of the answer—is daycare good for kids under 2, or 3, or whatever, or not? And what role or responsibility does the government have in this area of people's lives? I don't have all the answers, but the feminist voices on the left seem very inconsistent on this to me.

I understand what the left is trying to do. They're trying to spotlight what they perceive to be inconsistencies with Romney's position on the value of stay-at-home moms (SAHMs)—all of this, by the way, is a stupid deflection away from much more important economic policies that need attention. They say that the Romneys took umbrage at Hilary Rosen's assertion that Ann Romney "didn't work" because she was a SAHM. Whether she "worked" or not is certainly up for debate, though it's unimportant and petty, in my view. And it should noted that Romney didn't say he's getting his info on what women want from his wife based on HER personal experience, it's based on what she's been hearing from the women she's been talking to on the campaign trail...so, it doesn't really matter whether Ann Romney worked outside of the home or not. It's about what the women she interacts with are saying...for whatever that is worth. But the left now says that Romney's insistence that welfare moms have to work "for their dignity" implies that women who don't work outside the home lack dignity and is also inconsistent with the respect we're supposed to have for Ann for staying home. Well, yes, poor choice of words for Mitt. Wouldn't be the first time.

What they don't seem to understand, or want to admit, is that Ann Romney married well (at least in terms of money) and therefore is not at the mercy of what the state doles out and the rules the state makes in order for her to get the dole (though she may be at the mercy of Mitt, which is a whole other story). For one thing, you can't enforce fairness. Everyone gets dealt a different hand. Another issue is, this ties in to another lie of feminism—that men don't matter. They totally do matter if you're going to have a kid and it shouldn't take a genius to see that having a well-earning, engaged partner is a plus. Some lose out to bad luck in the daddy department and for them, yes, there should be safety nets. We should help. But the notion that a person can do it on their own (or with help from the government) as opposed to respecting the value of an actual family unit should not be a basis for policy.

Alternately, women who can support themselves financially by whatever means (college degrees, successful careers, etc.), aren't at the mercy of the state, even if they are professional, single-by-choice moms, which I'm not a fan of, but, that's their choice and they're self sufficient, at least.

Not everyone has a good man or a good job, and that's just how it shakes out sometimes. When the state provides benefits it has to do the basics and is not always concerned about what's best for people (think of the formula-focused WIC program, the government funded food programs—school lunches and such). These programs are concerned with people getting by (and perhaps providing kickbacks to companies and interests who supply the "free" shit that the need y get) not really flourishing. It's up to us as individuals to make the flourish part happen.

What Mitt should have said was that we can't be paying moms to stay home with kids because some will just take advantage and have kid after kid after kid and never work. This, of course, would be more politically incorrect than what he actually did say. Now if you wanted to get really socialist and we could come to some consistent standard about what's good for moms and kids, I could see having mandatory classes that could include moms WITH their little ones together, and that might be a good requirement for mothers on welfare. You know, they have to learn a marketable skill, they have to learn some home economics, they have to learn about child care and development. But, is there really a will for that? I don't know. And I can already hear the argument that that's paternalistic, and maybe it is.

Maybe the best thing economically is for the welfare moms to put their kids into daycare and get their own jobs. This means jobs for them and jobs for the daycare workers, right? I don't know. I am not an economic expert. Both the jobs the moms are likely to get and the care provider jobs are low level, low paid jobs, though, so I'm not real impressed. I understand the government might have to do what's more economical /best for the economy. Can we expect government to care about what's best for children? And is what's best for children better for the economy in the long term? And do they care about the long term. It doesn't appear that the U.S. government cares about what's best for children or what's best for the long term right now and judging by past practices. Maybe this will change. I don't know.

In my view life is about more than a balance sheet, though, obviously, because I'm taking a financial hit to be with my kid more. Like with the breastfeeding issue, how can we expect the American people to support policies that are good for the nation's kids if individual middle- and upper-class parents who can won't even take the hit for their own kids?

"Choice" (the choice to stay home or go to work) is not a right. It is a privilege and one borne much out of luck, though also a good deal from hard work or merit, and often a mix of both. For women, the fact is, it's still a lot about who you marry if you are going to be a mom. How deep do you want the government to go into our personal lives to ensure some vague idea (since nobody seems to be able to agree) about what's good for kids? Or, do people want to come out and say that daycare is really not that great for little ones?

Probably neither. Each side just wants to cherry pick inconsistencies in each others' sound bites to fuel their petty political squabbles. This is why I tend toward limited government. Building roads, regulating energy, food safety and such are large-scale issues that make sense for government to handle (though I'd argue they haven't done great on even these). It doesn't appear to me that Americans have a consistent set of values and I certainly don't trust the government to know what's best with regard to the day-to-day details of my family and how I raise my children. At the end of the day, like with breastfeeding, I don't care if you put your baby in daycare or not, but I am sure glad I didn't have to—and I don't want to support policies that would threaten my ability to choose what I think is best, according to my family's means.

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.

I don't care what you feed your baby

(Image: Human-Stupidity.com—and an interesting post there...)

The latest New York Times Motherlode blog post kind of pushed me over the edge when it comes to "advocating" for breastfeeding. Focusing on the "true cost" of breastfeeding, as in the opportunity cost of work time lost, "freedom" to go out and do whatever you want whatever time you want lost, "dignity" lost (!?!) and on and on, the post put the onus for breastfeeding success on "society." But, I am left wondering why "society" should care or make breastfeeding a priority when, clearly, a huge number of individual women don't. If a mother can't be bothered to do something that is so basic for the well being of her own child, then how on earth can employers, taxpayers, etc. be compelled to care? It just doesn't seem that important to most people.

The post closes with:

If we as a society truly place a high value on nursing — if the American Academy of Pediatrics’ recommendation that mothers breast-feed for 12 months or more (and breast-feed exclusively for six months or more) is meant for all women, not just those with the resources to withstand economic loss — then we need to support breast-feeding by putting in place laws, policies, programs and social structures that make it easier, rather than attempt to gloss over its hidden costs. Breast milk isn’t free. But it’s within our power to make it affordable for all.

Naturally, in the comments there were assertions that only the wealthy could make breastfeeding work...what about this, what about that...I got formula and I was fine...I couldn't make enough milk, so I supplemented with formula and my kid was fine...I hate those sanctimommies who lord breastfeeding over everyone else...on and on. There were some who countered the cost issue by explaining how they kept their jobs and put in lots of effort to make pumping work, but they did it—only to be trashed for their privilege. I have read so many excuses and so many comments dismissing the importance of breastfeeding that reveal willful denial and ignorance that I just can't care anymore what some other woman chooses to feed her baby.

My comment got a few "likes" but also was met with indignation. I said:

Some things are priceless. Sadly, not all Americans place much value on a child's early development in general, whether it's breastfeeding or other things. I am one of those who made a conscious choice to take the financial hit to stay home with my baby. And I'm not much of a maternal type, either. It was difficult in terms of my sense of self with the ennui and all that, but I did it because it was the right thing, and eventually I grew into it...and because of it. Frankly, I don't have the hustle/stomach for daycare drop offs, pumping, seeing my new baby for just a few hours a day and leaving it with a stranger. (I may have felt better about a grandma or something.) I feel deeply for those who can't afford the lifestyle shift that's optimal for babies. But, for all those who can, and don't...and there are many...how can we trumpet about what this country values when the people themselves don't value it? People generally find a way to make what they value a priority in their lives. That said, I would love to see a year of subsidized maternity leave for women, for up to 2 children. That, too, seems like the right thing to do.

One of the very best comments I've ever read was this:

...It's far out, but what if we could all be ok with acknowledging that pumping sucks (t'hee) and no one should have to do it to feed their baby? What if we could just come out and say that women should be given the flexibility to work from home, or have onsite care at their offices? It wouldn't be putting down women to say that their bodies require them to stay in close contact with their newborns would it? Or would it? Why?

Sometimes I wonder why we can't take feminism to the next level and demand that our society just tolerate and accommodate our mammal needs. Providing the space for women to extract their milk and feed it to their babies later is really kind of weird if you think about it. How about just making it normal for a woman to be with her baby, and make the jobs accommodate to that role. Half of us are women! Many of us will have babies. They are babies for such a short period, and then it's over.

But, I am afraid, people just don't really want it. When women who do have the power to breastfeed because of their privilege of good white collar jobs with leave, or the means to take time off indefinitely, or a high-earning spouse, or whatever and they choose not to, even when they can, they are sending a message to society that it doesn't matter. If these women who can have "the best" blithely eschew "the best," what makes the low-income woman who needs to work think she should be entitled to help achieving "the best"? And how are we supposed to convince the non-mommy policymakers that women need support?

The benefits of breastfeeding are obvious. We don't even need to go into that. People who want to breastfeed will, and those who don't, wont. DISCLAIMER: I know there are some very rare people who truly can't who may have wanted to and so yeah, no statement is absolute and covers all people. But, the bottom line is that most people can and would if they really wanted to. Nothing we can say at this point is going to get people to do things they don't want to do. The science is there and it's been beaten into people's heads. If they don't want to take the steps to learn how to do it...If they don't have the tenacity to see it through...If X number of things are more important to them than breastfeeding, then who cares?

Some would argue that we're all going to have to pay for healthcare for these babies who would grow into adults with less than the optimal health they could have had if they'd been breastfed. That may be true. I think I am OK with that. We're already paying in one way or another for people who eat mountains of crap food, won't exercise and just basically don't give a shit themselves. Just add more on to the pile, I suppose. It's kind of inevitable. The world is not perfect.

All I can control is myself, and what I feed my own child (be it breastmilk as a baby or junk food as a bigger kid, though it's harder to control the junk food since they're not under mom's watch 24-7 anymore...) I've been told countless times in web comments (because I would NEVER impose my unsolicited views on some person I don't even know in person, in real life) that breastfeeding and staying home may be right for me, but isn't right for everybody and that I should just shut up and mind my own business. I've even been told when I expressed a sadness for those who wanted to breastfeed (or stay at home with their baby) that that was somehow insulting and my "pity" was not needed and the child(ren) is doing "just fine thank you very much"...so, yeah, I guess it's time. If anything I can feel smug that my kid will have an edge, without feeling bad about their kids, because after all, they will be just fine. Right? Right?

Maybe if was actually a breastfeeding educator or true lactivist actually doing something it would make more sense. But all I've been doing is trumpeting something I think is best, that the science shows is best, that is actually really just the normal way mammals are supposed to feed their babies, biologically speaking, and something that happened to be pretty easy for me. It was so great that I guess I could say I felt kind of evangelical about it, like spreading the good news or something (though that's not necessarily reflected in my most recent Motherlode comment). But now I kind of just feel stupid for caring.

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.

Nobody wants to really talk about it

I really enjoyed yesterday's Penelope Trunk post on a key to productivity being choosing phone calls wisely—and saying no to things (I would carry this to things in general that are not satisfying or helping you get closer to your goals, not just phone calls). I am all over this practice in my day-to-day dealings and actually treat phone calls as client massaging (or friendship maintenance when it's personal) NOT as a truly effective way to exchange information or get things done. There are some people who, if you get on the phone with them, will suck an hour of your time away, just like that.

What really stood out for me, though, was something a little more buried in her post—"...that group child care for kids under two is very bad for the kids and people should spend their money solving that problem." (Wiki link included in her post.)

This stood out because not a lot of non-religious or non-conservative, non-old-fashioned types (see my re-run of a Dr. Laura-based-post below) really go around saying things like this nowadays. I agree with this statement myself but always feel like I can't speak my mind on it in general company because daycare is, like, the number two holy grail of feminism, under abortion rights. You'll make people feel guilty for their choices, you'll look like a weirdo for caring what other people do with their kids, things like that. They'll assume you're a crazy Mommy Wars lady, when all you want is to have an honest, intelligent discourse about choices and what's good for children.

But, I still think what I think, and it's uncomfortable to so often not be able to say what I think and so very gratifying to hear someone else (who is not religious or conservative or housewifey) say it, especially on the heels of another post I read yesterday on The Hidden Benefits of Daycare. Here we have a non-low-income person claiming benefits observed for low-income people as a benefit in general. It may be of some benefit to the mothers, but is it great for the kids, really? And do studies showing benefits for a low-income group translate to something beneficial to middle-class people? And furthermore should we be even saying "well, this is good for low income people" and keep them in that less than ideal, band-aid situation rather than tackling the core problems that make daycare really just a societal band-aid?

Penelope Trunk has another post on The Big Lie Homeschoolers Tell that discusses this notion of something being good for some people but not good for other people, only with homeschool (not daycare) and she uses breastfeeding as an analogy. It's pretty fascinating. It also is watering the seeds in my mind that have already been planted about homeschooling—which I sort of think I might like to do, but oh, I could not do.

Anyway, these issues have been on my mind for a while—and I've come to the conclusion that they key question for moms shouldn't be to work or not to work, but when to work and how much—and I recalled some relevant posts from the past on them: questioning why progressives assume that mothers of young children should work and scarily finding ways I kind of agree with Dr. Laura on some things (but not all).

Life is (still) good

I often think to myself how good I have it. I am so over the blog posts and feature articles about how hard parenting is. Yes, I have my grumpy days, but most days I really do think, “Damn! Am I lucky!” This “Don’t Carpe Diem” one was really popular recently, and while I get it, it really didn’t resonate with me as much as it annoyed me. I kind of actually do carpe diem (to use her parlance), and while at the end she gets to the point that we should pay attention to the good things and be grateful, and offers some lovely examples, I really don’t buy the “parenting is like climbing Mt. Everest” analogy. Really? Something like 1500 people in all of history so far have climbed Mt. Everest. Billions of people have had children. In the comments to the Carpe Diem post, there were actually people saying that if you don’t think it’s hard, you’re doing it wrong! I don’t think people should feel bad about themselves or feel guilt if they have a bad day—or week. But, I think people need some perspective.

I just saw another one today—14 Reasons Why Being A Stay At Home Person Sucks. And then there’s the pissing contest about who’s got it harder, working moms or stay-at-home-moms. What an odd thing to want to argue—I’ve got it harder than you! Well, I’m here to say that I love my life—sure it probably is easier than many people’s, but “the complainers’” lives are also probably easier than most of the world’s population, and people throughout history as well. And I am so grateful.

I am hesitant to post this because in some ways, in the “mommyblogosphere” it actually seems subversive to be happy, without qualifications, about your life and your kid. People will think you’re bragging, or maybe just misery loves company more than someone saying how wonderful things are when another person may not be feeling so wonderful. But, I think it’s important to talk about when we’re happy, too. I think the “parenting is so hard” meme has just gone way too far.

I would challenge the Don’t Carpe Diem types to actually, yes, try to savor the moments, even the “screaming Target” ones (I seriously don’t understand how asleep at the wheel one has to be to find themselves in a situation where their kid has taken merchandise off the shelf or opened food in the store unbeknownst to them, and I don’t get the tantrums in stores thing, but I digress, maybe those anecdotes are for effect). But savor those, too, yes, do try. Much has been written about mindfulness and how it actually alleviates stress and makes people happier (Google it). Counting the minutes til your day ends? On a regular basis? Something is wrong with how you manage your days.

I remembered in the back of my head a post I’d written before, generally on this topic, though I didn’t remember it being quite so far back in time—actually when my kid was in the supposedly “terrible” twos! It’s heartening to know that more than two years later, I still feel the same. Maybe the good times can last! My post doesn’t even touch on comparisons between the average American mom and those in Africa who have to walk 5 miles to get water or something. Doesn’t even touch on the blessing of having healthy kids (as most of us do) versus a kid in the cancer ward (imagery my dad, who works in a hospital, was quick to invoke when we were discussing the relative hardness of parenting). My post is about much lighter things than those.

I was discussing this with my mom the other day. How happy my life is now, these golden years of long days (but for me, seriously not long enough) at home with my young child. I worry about the transition out of these days. I often envision my mom with me, back in the 70s, before my siblings came along, just us. Long days. Baking. Playgrounds. Doing art. Reading. A young, young mother just in her early 20s. I envision idyllic days for her. But, they had less money than we have now, and presumably more worries (?) She didn’t have the internet (for better or for worse). And, she was so young. I asked her if she had any fears or anxiety in her time about what would happen someday if X, Y or Z happened—because the flipside of gratitude can often be anxiety about losing what you’ve got. At least for me, if I don’t keep it in check. She told me she used to think, “OK, what is the worst that could happen?” And, she told me, she saw those “worst things” actually happen (including the death of a child). She observed that all these things happened, and, there she was, surviving. And there she was that day on the phone with me, dropping some serious knowledge on her daughter. Maybe she ought to have a blog.

The Mommy Myth

I read speed read The Mommy Myth by Susan J. Douglas and Meredith W. Michaels over the weekend. I have to say, it really gave me a better understanding of where I think many posters online are coming from when they get so defensive about daycare, their wanting to work, their feeling pressured and guilted and generally disgruntled about life for moms in America. Reading the book certainly underscores my own sense of not being like other people, though, because I don't really feel the way they do. I wonder, too, how many real-life women actually living in the world feel this way because I haven't met any in person. Maybe these are just not things that the people I know talk about? Maybe they're afraid to talk daycare and social change with me because they see that I stay at home right now and think I think a certain way and I'd judge them? I mean, a good number of women must feel this way, based on comments I read online. It's really hard to know, but, let's give it to the authors and assume they do.

Douglas and Michaels in the introduction say their main point is: "Media imagery that seems to natural, that seems to embody some common sense, while some blaming mothers, or all mothers, for children and a nation gone wrong needs to have its veneer of supposed truth ripped away." I can see this, I myself have applied the "so many kids have been sent to day care since the 80s, that's why X is like X..." and I know, of course, there's more to it. I certainly don't want to align myself with those figures that The Mommy Myth authors are up against, either—the Pat Buchanan, Pat Robertson, Nixon, Schlafly, moral majority tribe (now would be expanding to Palin, et al, and wait, they even complain about Bill Clinton not doing anything about their child care, Dukakis, neither!) At the same time, I don't buy what the authors are ultimately selling—which appears to be big government funded daycare for everyone.

They say about how lots of mothers aren't buying into the retro momism (as they call it) although "it works to make them feel very guilty and stressed." The authors go on to say "they want and need their own paychecks, they want and need adult interaction during the day, they want and need their own independence, and they believe—and rightly so—that women who work outside the home can be and are very good mothers to their kids. Other mothers don't want or need these things for the time being, or ever, and really would rather stay home. The question is why one reactionary, normative ideology, so out of sync with millions of women's lives seems to be getting the upper hand."

And I ask, what upper hand? Over 50% of children under 5 are now in day care, so, where's the upper hand of the other side? Women are doing it. They're doing what they want (or, those who may not want to are forced to do what they don't want because of the unbalanced economy). The thing is, they want someone else to pay for it. They sort of seem like they want to help poor, working women get quality care, but to me, they come of more sounding like they want their own daycare to be cheaper and better (really? any grown up knows the vast majority of the time you can't have both) and they think it's the government's job to make it so. They write "...the problem with the new momism is that is insists that there is one and only one way the children of America will get what they need: if mom provides it. If dad 'pitches in,' well, that's just an extra bonus. The government? Forget it." It is on this matter that I am so torn. (And since when is financially supporting one's family, as many dads do, considered merely "pitching in"?)

I want to be a good progressive, I want to help people who need help and I am not one of those greedy "don't raise my taxes for social programs" kind of people. But, I really, really don't think that little babies should be cared for in large, institutional settings and by people other than their mamas (or, a distant but acceptable second, a dad or grandma or truly loving relative). I know some circumstances make it necessary for this to happen, but ideally, that baby needs to be cradled and near that mama's breast for the vast majority of its day and night when it is under a year old—less and less as it grows, naturally. (But, I have to observe, here we are looking at women who actually gave page space, and credence—if not complete buy in —to the concept of artificial wombs.) I just don't think setting up some kind of government care that makes it normal for babies to be warehoused like this is in the best interest of humanity. Just so women can work and feel independent? There are others ways. Fix the economy. Educate women about the reality of life with a baby, birth control and the work-life balance they are going to need to make sure they can create for themselves. Don't just throw money at setting up day care centers. Pay for a year of maternity leave. Subsidize another 6 months (for the first two children only, please!). Make it the cultural norm that women workers take time off and don't give them shit for it.

I guess this would necessarily create the situation commonly now referred to as "mommy tracking." The authors, and many women, are critical of what I think is a decent idea, and what businesswoman Felice Schwartz proposed in the late 80s. "Companies should allow 'career-and-family' women to drop out of the fast track while their children are young so they could spend more time with their children. they could return to the fast track later." What, I ask, is wrong with that? Seems like a perfect solution? (Schwartz got skewered and changed her position.)

I know the "cities on the hill," those places known as Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and other European countries in varying flavors, have childcare programs that are government funded, but, they also have generally different cultures there than here. It's unfortunate because I appreciate and align more with these aspects European cultures, described in a Salon interview with Douglas, where she observes, "They have made a choice as a culture that's very different than the choices we've made as a society. Their choice has been work is work and family is family—and family matters. So everybody leaves work between 4 and 5 o'clock. Everybody. Dads, moms. They go home and spend time with their families." That said, what's wrong with "mommy tracking" everybody, then—men and women—at different points in their lives? Part of my problem with the hard driving feminists (and others) who would have children in daycare from six weeks on is that they raise the bar and crack the whip and drive the rat race to an even more unsustainable pace. How about everybody (men and women) just take it down a notch and be human? I think it's a good idea. But, apparently it is not enough for the women who "want it all."

So, what is "it all"? The authors repeatedly go back to the call for government funded (but locally ran, that part is certainly more palatable) day care centers. Repeatedly. All the content about media messaging, pressure on moms to be perfect, parenting styles, psychological and medical advice messing with people, I can agree with most of what they say, other than that I have not felt affected by it because I guess I am a bit of a social outlier (?) I even like alot of the early feminist lore and the action behind the lore about women fighting for equal pay, women progressing beyond days where they couldn't hold their own credit cards, have their names on a mortgage deed, things like that that we take for granted today. Those are all very important and reading the book renewed my respect for alot of what feminists did back then. But, what of all the weirdness? Again, the artificial womb comes to mind. The underlying current of wanting and desperately needing to escape from one's own children because they're so vexing and tyrannical. (OK, we all need a break from kid stuff sometimes, but not enough to take it into social institution territory—have a cup of tea or a glass of wine and throw them outside for an hour or put them in front of a DVD if you have to. There, you're renewed!)

So, with the repeated call for large-scale, institutional day care, they reference World War II era day care centers created by the government in cooperation with the defense industry to encourage women to go to work as they were much needed during war time. This bit of history is fascinating to me and I definitely want to know more. There are several, kind of random, patchwork links to be found in a cursory web search that shed a little light on the centers: a site that is critical in general of daycare, a personal history-buff/scholar site, the Kaiser Permanente site, the Oregon Historical Society site. The Mommy Myth authors talk about how great the centers were, how they were high quality, not bad for the children, but good (?). Apparently these, still, only took children who were at least 18 months old. The authors wrote of how there were laundries, infirmaries if the children were sick, staffed with skilled nurses, oh, and there were hot ready-made dinners to take home at the end of the day. All this while mom spent the day working in a factory (to support a war). Yay! Where do I sign up?

Seriously, though, it's a boon, perhaps, for people who really need the money, for those whose husbands were at war, and I don't mean to slam honest factory work. But, the authors are proclaiming these shipyard centers to be the cat's meow and it just doesn't resonate with me. If a kid is sick, other than the care of a doctor if it's serious, what they need is some down time, in the comfort of their own home, with the person who cares more about them than anyone else in the world. The workplace needs to understand this, understand the hands on value of mom to her children, not say, hey, we've got you covered, you come on to work the line, nurse Jones over here will take great care of your sick child. I mean, I appreciate the gesture, but...And the idea of an institutionally-prepared dinner at the end of the day. Again, thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather make my own homecooked meal. We all know what kind of meals governments and institutions pull together. They're just not very good.

What's more, what makes them think that people want to have their lives reduced to dropping their kids off in the morning, working all day, picking up a box of dinner, going home, sleeping and doing it all over again. It all seems to be to be very much in service of work and treating humans as cogs in the wheels of production. It's OK if a company wants to do that for employees because maybe it's good for their business and any thinking person should have the expectation that businesses view their employees somewhat as human capital. For the government to view their people as human capital, though, is something else. I'm not comfortable with the whole worker-commerce model being the be all and end all of everything. That women in their capacity as mothers (and of course their children) create a chink in this worker-commerce model is cool, for one thing, and important to society, lest we all just become worker drones at various rungs on the ladder to nowhere.

Another example of daycare provided to women workers is that of the WearGuard company. Their daycare sounds all well and good and fine, but, that's a private company providing a benefit to its employees. That doesn't really bolster the case for government-funded daycare. (I would add that the shipyard daycares, too, were funded largely by the companies and only subsidized by the government, and the whole war connection as impetus there is obvious.)

My final analysis of The Mommy Myth is that while it was, in many ways, a thought-provoking and enjoyable read (I like the authors' wry, sort of sarcastic humor, even when I don't agree with how they're using it), the dogged focus on government-funded daycare and general lack of respect (and refusal to face what is just the plain reality of the biology) of motherhood is not something I'm on board with.