"Girls' Night Out" should not be exhaustingly soul-sucking

The problem with being fake is that you set up a dynamic wherein you have to keep being fake. The problem with not being fake is that you can alienate alot of people if you have different views than most of the people you come into contact with. I feel I do. A lot of the time, because I am a mature adult, I am not compelled to spout out my opinion that may be in contrast to others' or make too stormy of waves in conversations. Even if I have an opinion. Say, for example, I don't think you should let a baby cry it out at bedtime. If someone is talking about how they're having trouble with their baby sleeping and they just had to leave the baby crying til it fell asleep, I will probably just put a sympathetic look on my face and nod. I will probably say something mamby pamby and fake like, "You are a stronger person than me. I'm such a wimp. I couldn't let my baby cry." I'd act like there wasn't anything wrong with what they were doing and it was only my emotional weakness that prevented me from also doing that, when in reality I think it's rotten to let an infant cry it out. There, I said it. I can generally handle a little necessary fakeness in the interest of keeping acquaintances and maintaining diplomacy. I play nice when I am in moms groups, girls night out and such. I smile and nod and sip my drink. Then I go home and feel awful. It takes alot of energy to be inauthentic and not true to what you believe.
Last weekend, there was a "girls night out" incident that I think was a tipping point for me in that I am not going to go out with this particular group again and in general I am not going to put myself in situations where I have to be fake. The group consists of women who were in a neighbor's new mom class at a local hospital. I like many in the group well enough, some smart and interesting women, but I just have to be too inauthentic around the group as a whole. After dinner, we went for coffees and were sitting around talking about family vacations and then schools—how would various family vacation traditions, time share schedules, etc. fit in with school schedules now that all the kids would be entering real school as kindergartners. The conversation moved from declarations of not caring about pulling a kid out because they don't really learn anything in kindergarten anyway to bemoaning the dearth of before and after school care provided by the county, to bitching about half-day Mondays they have in our county, to serious bitching about teachers in general. The vast majority of the bitching was done by one person.
She "cited a study" that said, according to her interpretation, "Teachers are the most overcompensated public workers there are!" She continued to rail about how teachers complain too much, how their jobs aren't that hard, how teachers are mostly people who didn't do well in college or partied, and she generally had a seriously shitty attitude about teachers. My brother is a dedicated teacher, my husband is a former teacher and I have some friends who are former or current teachers and all of them are fine people.
This was not the first time I'd heard this from her, the teacher bashing. She's gone on diatribes before about how when her kid's in school, she's gonna tell them how it's going to be. She's not going to take any crap. She's going to demand this or that if she has to. I mean, our kids aren't even in the school system yet. Nothing bad has even happened yet—and already the combative attitude. Our county has some of the best public schools in the nation and this one is just looking for a fight and something to bitch about. I can't even stand it.
So much negativity—always complaining about the husband and in-laws. I usually nod and try to come up with some mild and innocuous complaint about my own husband...uhm, yeah, he leaves crumbs on the counter and his underwear on the bedroom floor—what a bastard! I try to do the "girlfriends connecting" thing by parallel bitching something fake. I hate it, though. I don't really want to bitch about my husband—or my kid. He's generally a pretty good egg and most of the time I'd rather be out on a date with him than doing a "girls' night" anyway—her too.
I remember a while back we were talking about the before and after school programs and if we can't get in or didn't want to use them, my friend was suggesting a collaboration of mornings at one of our houses and afternoons at the others, and that we moms would have to work it all out because "They just don't do anything anyway, so we'll figure it out!" "They" being the husbands. This infuriated me. I played it relatively cool, but had to stop this line of thinking. "You know, that's not really true for me," I explained. "My husband and I actually have talked about staggering our work schedules to cover mornings and afternoons and he is fully on board with spending the after school time with our kid, and doing what it takes as a team to make it work, so please don't lump him in." To suggest that I'd better band together with her because my husband—my partner in life and the father of my child—wouldn't be of any help. It made me pretty sick. But I let it go and tried to be friendly.
Anyway, at the coffee shop, in the midst of the bitchfest, some 20-something girl comes up to our group and says, "I couldn't help overhearing and before I left, I just wanted to say, we are not overpaid and we do work hard. That is why I am here grading papers on a Saturday night. Not all teachers are lazy and stupid!" I was so embarrassed and tried to give this poor girl knowing looks while sideways glancing at my "friend" to try and show her I did not agree with the spouted out bullshit coming out of that woman's mouth and please do not lump me in with these people.
Then, the rest of the night was feeling uncomfortable and more fakeness of trying to convince my friend that she was just stating her opinion, among friends, and this other woman had no right to come insert herself into our private conversation, blah, blah, blah. What I really wanted to say was "Shut the fuck up!" What's really idiotic is that in talking about the before and after school care, the Mondays, the summers off and the vacation schedule issues, I said, "Sometimes I think I would really just like to homeschool! I think it would be so cool to just take it on myself. We could work on our own schedule, my child could be more self-directed, with a more individualized education..." and that was greeted with a chorus of "OH NO! I could never stay home all day with my kid!" And who was the loudest? The one saying how sucky teachers are and how overpaid.
So, let me get this straight: You can't stand even the idea of spending the whole day, every day, with your own one child, and yet you think someone who spends every day with 20 (or more) of them is overpaid? OK, then!
I felt yucky about this night for days afterward and I still don't know how I am going to manage the next invitation for something. I just don't want to be in that negative place and have to listen to crap I don't agree with and keep my mouth shut to that extent ever again. Some might argue that I should have some balls and speak my mind, but first of all, with some people it's hard to even get a word in, and then, you sometimes get the sense of "why bother?" if a person is so weirdly hyped on these intense trains of thought they dump on everyone. Is it worth the effort to speak your mind, or best to just fade away?
This all brings up an interesting topic about how we do—or do not—connect with other mothers of children our own child's age. Often we are thrust into social situations with people with whom we have little in common other than having same-age children. Oh, but we can all kvetch about those sleepless nights, those absurd preschooler demands, the hapless husbands, the minivans, the new china cabinets, the Disney trips...right? Well, no. I do not wish to talk about any of these things! I am the kind of person who can converse with almost anyone about anything, but do I always enjoy it? Not really. Why should people be friends just because they have kids the same age? Did our parents do stuff like that? As a mother of an "only" I want to foster good friendships for my child, but does that mean I have to be friends with the parents, whether or not we click?
In contrast, I did have a really fun "girls night" a few weeks ago. These were all women who I worked with at one point. Completely unrelated to me having a kid. It was a more diverse mix of women: two twenty-somethings, not married; another married mom, like me; a 50-something and a lesbian, my age. We had fun. That night, I didn't even want to go home as early as I did. We talked about light work stuff. We talked about which celebrities, male and female, we thought were hottest. We talked about movies. We talked a little about kids and parents, but fun stories that made us laugh. It felt more real than the moms night, and I don't think anyone bitched or kvetched about anything!

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.

Interesting or good? Interesting or happy?

Mies van der Rohe, a design hero of mine, once said “I don’t want to be interesting. I want to be good.” He meant his architectural designs, of course, but what are we doing other than designing our own lives? The comparison can be pondered generally about life, as well. Interesting or good? By “good” Mies likely meant serving a purpose, in the form follows function vein. And without superfluous decoration. As explained in the Wikipedia entry, he strove for a minimal framework of structural order balanced against the implied freedom of free-flowing open space. I could go on and on relating minimalism to contentment, but then I wouldn’t be being minimalist, so I hope, dear reader, that you “get it,” at least a little.

Interesting or happy?

Recently, I stumbled upon Penelope Trunk, a former startup exec, now homeschooler, conflicted work-at-home mom, blogger and generally supersmart and interesting ultra drama queen, who is going to say in her forthcoming book (I think) that it’s better to have an interesting life.

She has many posts on her blog about a happy life vs an interesting life, including a quiz she says helps determine whether your life is happy or interesting. My result was -1, which means: You are suspiciously well balanced. Or lacking a self-identity. I’m not sure which. I am going to go with well balanced. I don’t seek happiness, I seek contentment, which is even better, but maybe even more boring.

For me, it is more important to live a happy/content life. I think it is important to be able to find it without relying on material things or even other people. As I type this, I don’t know that valuing this is, necessarily, that much different from having an interesting life, it must depend on who’s assessing it, and I can only assume that each person must be responsible for assessing whether their own life is interesting or not. I mean one person’s interesting, is another person’s harried. I hate harried.

Trunk says in another post, “I think I want an interesting life. Not that I want to be interesting, but I want to be interested. I’m talking about what I think is interesting to me. I want to choose things that are interesting to me over things that would make me happy.” I do, too, but I don’t believe that I have to live in New York, change jobs alot (or even have a job), or insist on alot of choices to be interested. In fact, I am overwhelmed by being interested.

Part of my “problem” is that I am interested in too many things. I wake up, thinking I’m going to check e-mail, see what’s up on Facebook since I last checked before going to bed (and sometimes if I wake up in the middle of the night) and then move on to my day. But, I often stumble upon a link someone posted, or remember something I wanted to find out, then one thing leads to another, and another and I am dreaming up some new side project or buying a book I must read, or finding out about something I must try. This happens too much. This (and having to actually work to come up with money for living and tuition) is why it took me 10 years to complete an undergrad degree. To some extent, this keeps me from achieving the Miesian goal of being “good” (jack of all trades, master of nothing). To get good, you need some focus, right? I’m good at focusing on specific projects, like in a work environment. I am good at meeting deadlines for others, but when it comes to the openness of my own mind, my own life, it’s another story.

One such recent Facebook post (thanks again, LotusBluMama) lead me to this idea of keeping a logbook (instead of a full-on journal, where, you know, you have to write longhand sentences and full thoughts). The logbook is brilliant. Quick bites of things that hit you that may be useful or interesting to remember. I started one for the new year and already what stands out to me is how I want to be more present with my child. So, I have to find more interest in things I can do with her than in my internet explorations, or at least strive for more balance than I have now. This is likely to be my last winter at home with her and then, last spring, and maybe even last summer, before school and bigger-kid life sets in. I need to be more focused on savoring this time. I need to be present.

A Mayo Clinic article talks about cultivating contentment and lists among its tips devoting time to family and friends, and living in the moment. I know I have heard in yoga practice that being present is key to contentment. I would like to find more scholarly articles, maybe studies on this to link to, but I think in my heart I know it (INFJ, here). And as I try to complete my thoughts and wrap this post in a good way, my girl is literally clamoring for my attention and so I must go.

This post is shared, but by no means complete. But if I don’t come back to it for a while, it’s a good thing, because it will mean I have found the strength to focus on things to make me more good. And, in one is good the way Mies meant it, they are bound to also be interesting.

On Yoga, and Progress

Today I went to a special two-hour hot yoga class. Not Bikram, but a vinyasa flow class in a hot room. It was awesome. Loved it. It was challenging. Humbling. Exhilarating. I was going to write this post about how I am content doing yoga DVDs at home casually—my “brown bag yoga”—how gratifying that is, etc. but being in this class kind of took it to another level.

I guess it was just a really good class (Jennifer at Mind the Mat). I’ve tried classes now and then, some were alright, others just bleh. Now, I want to find ways to go again—same studio, same instructor. It was just that good. She had the perfect pacing of challenge and rest. She incorporated partner assists that were actually really effective and not awkward. I did an assisted handstand! I never do handstands! I sweat my ass off. It was wonderful

I will still do my at-home practice, of course, because really I can go to a studio, at most, once a week. I really saw today, though, how complacent I’ve gotten just doing my DVDs. It is hard to focus in your own home. Your kid needs something. There’s dust under the TV cabinet. My laptop is right there. Do I have e-mail? I am re-committing to make more of an effort in my home practice, but I think this is the year that I will add real, live classes.

I’ve actually been doing yoga semi-consistently for a couple years now (see past post about what yoga Means to me and how yoga can help with stress) but I can’t say I’ve progressed in my practice. So, in addition to “brown bagging it” I am going to enjoy feasting on classes with some regularity this year.

Stirring the pot about bake sales, obligation and community

I am the rare woman (apparently, judging from what I read online) who doesn’t feel particularly guilty about my choices and doesn’t have a problem saying “no” to non-business demands on my time that I’m not interested in. Maybe that’s why I can say to those who would bring something from the local grocery store to a school bake sale—why bother?—and mean it without any snarkiness.

The latest nontroversy in the henhouse of first world privilege was sparked by a piece in last week’s New York Times about whether “‘Store Bought’ Spoils the Potluck Spirit.” There are so many layers to this “very important” discussion. The title and parts of the essay talk about potlucks, but the main issue seems to be surrounding mommies who bake goods for bake sales vs. mommies who drop off store-bought goodies.

As far as potluck dinners someone may be invited to, or office parties calling for contributions, things like that, I don’t see a problem with bringing something store bought. Personally, I prefer homemade food and would make something from home myself, but, not everyone is a cook. I still recall a Harris Teeter cherry pie brought for dessert by couple we had over for dinner and it was amazing.

For bake sales, though, it just seems silly to contribute store bought goods. It’s beyond ridiculous to have a situation wherein people are in a gymnasium paying 50 cents per Oreo or something. The point of the bake sale is the school gaining from the value-added labor put in by the dedicated home bakers for the baked goods, not the markup on costs of ingredients. Or is it? I mean some school districts actually forbid home-baked goods at bake sales due to allergies, lack of controls over home kitchens, etc. So, why in the world even have a “bake” sale?

Honestly, as much as I like baking, the bake sale does seem like a relic of times past in which women had a “signature cookie” (I do!) and keep flour, sugar, butter and eggs on hand in the house. I’m not so sure people do this anymore, in general. But, practical matters aside, the NYT article generated alot of discussion of broader issues from feminism, to how pressed working moms are, to how needy schools really are…

In the many online responses to the NYT story, we heard angrily indignant outbursts suggesting bake sales are just a way for stay-at-home-moms to show off, we hear of the life-altering anxiety some women feel when asked to bake something (really?!?) and a whole organized discussion on NYT itself showcasing a range of opinions on the matter. There are those who claim it’s sexist to have bake sales because of an assumption that it is incumbent on the women to bake. But, that is about people’s own hang ups. I personally know a man who is a president/CEO who took a personal day to do holiday baking, so there! There are people who moan that they just don’t have the time. Again I point to my CEO friend, and would also argue that it only takes about a half hour to make basic chocolate chip cookies or a batch of brownies.

Really, though, people, it’s simple: If you don’t like baking or, at any juncture in your life don’t want to bake or don’t have time to bake then just don’t sign up for the bake sale. You don’t have to do everything. You can find another way to contribute, if you wish.

I took great pleasure in dreaming up the cupcakes pictured above—my constellation cupcakes for a space-themed event. I looked up constellations online. I mixed what I thought was just the right shade of blue frosting to represent sky (definitely an abstraction, of course). I had to go to the city to Dean & Deluca to get silver dragees to decorate them with. I didn’t know they’d be so hard to come by, and pricey, when I designed the cupcakes, but I had a vision. And, I won a Starbucks gift card for my trouble (not sure how that factored into the profits of the fundraising event, but mine is not to reason why in this case…)

I am not big on school fundraisers, personally. My view is, charge me more for tuition (in the case of our current private preschool). Or, ask for donations, if it has to come to that. Or, raise taxes for the public schools.

Also, my view about “community” and how to be a part of it has a changed a little since I blogged about baking cupcakes for a preschool affair two years ago, right around the same time a similar (though less widely publicized) blurb came out on the web, and while I still like to bake and will do so at any opportunity given, I’ve had a dose of reality about how much contributing to such things actually makes one part of a community.

After a healthy amount of volunteering, I still don’t feel super connected in my kid’s school community, so it takes something more than this, and I am still trying to figure out what that is. I have made a couple of friends, but I still feel a little bit like an outsider. That may just be my own issue. I’m not sure why. It could be because since I do work some, I am not free at any and all hours for various activities. It could be because I only have one kid. I don’t know why for sure. But, I’m OK with it, since she’ll be going to another school next year for kindergarten and I don’t know that the public school scene is as insular, and I do know that I don’t care all that much. My kid will find her friends and be fine. We’ll both learn as we go.

I am kind of eating my words about community, though, but stand by my love of baking!

Extreme cou-pining

I came across some tweets a couple weeks ago on the Extreme Couponing fraud controversy and was like, what?!? (This, apparently, is old news.) After briefly admiring the cleverness of the numbers game the fraud lady played, I was taken aback by the effort of it all. Coincidentally, a couple days later, a friend of mine blogged about the show, basically capturing my feelings on couponing, extreme or otherwise: It’s not my thing.

Now today, after sitting on this post for a while, worrying about looking like some rich bitch who’s too good to want to save a dolla AND trying to find time to come up with some jazzy imagery, Jezebel posts on couponing, inspiring me to get off my duff and finish my post—and it’s just what I was thinking: most extreme couponers aren’t doing it for the savings.

I remember my mom clipped coupons, for a while. We were a one-income household of three kids and she was doing her part to spend my dad’s earnings wisely. Even mom gave up, though, after realizing that time (and effort) to some extent, really is money. The time it would take to go to this store versus that for the better deal. The time to go through the paper, organize the coupons, keep track of expirations and such. You have to buy two of this, four of that. Sometimes its just better to dash out and get what you want or need when you need it, rather than being lured into buying certain things because you have coupons for them. And, oh yeah, you have to remember to bring the coupon to the store! (I can’t even remember to bring bags to re-use.) OK, well, I guess it’s not that hard, if you keep it basic, but for many women, even this feels just like so much more household drudgery and wouldn’t we really rather be reading the paper instead of combing through coupons for processed foods we shouldn’t be eating anyway? I have NEVER seen a coupon for an apple or a tomato.

These extreme couponers employ strategies like buying multiple newspapers for more coupons (even the “realistic couponer” buys two newspapers), and then stockpiling goods, and buying things they never even would use—just for the thrill of the deal. Or, is it something else that drives them? A yearning for some sense of purpose? Has the dignity of keeping a home been reduced to commercial feats of acquiring the most goods while saving the most money? And at what cost? Does couponing provide them with a feeling of security? Maybe having 100 cleaning wipes, 450 rolls of toilet paper and 250 paper towels in stock makes a person feel prepared for anything? Of course, maybe to many it’s just good fun, and how someone chooses to spend their free time is really not my business. I’m sure many wouldn’t “get” why I’d choose to go run in the woods for four hours. Like the hoarders, though, in my view, extreme couponers seem to be pining for something beyond a good deal or well-stocked cupboards that I am not sure the couponing experience can deliver.