Sorting out conflict

All day long I have to look out the window at this car. The 17-year-old car that I consider "my husband's." The car with the ceiling cloth torn down with the foamy black bits of chemically-infested whatever crumbling. The car, that, though I consider my husband's, I am the only one who ever cleans and organizes. I have a certain admiration for this car. It's still running after all these years. He drove me places in it when we were dating. We drove to New Jersey together, to the beach. We drove to New York City together. It should mean something nice. It should be a happy thing to see. Right now, though, it's a sign of meanness, a trick, a hard lesson someone wants to teach someone they're mad at. It hurts to see the car.

I'm not a big airing-your-dirty-laundry kind of person, but I'm writing about  a recent conflict to try to make myself move on, feel better...somehow sort it out for myself. Laying out the details of the most recent incidents will create something that may sound petty and ridiculous, but I am going to do it anyway.

I think my husband is controlling, dominating and manipulative—though not a bad guy. I know that sounds very funny. There are all kinds of statistics showing overall what total dicks men are to women. I've been hit by my dad and hit by an ex-husband. So, that fact that my husband tends to get what he wants and does what he wants and I end up feeling like what I want is just really not that important, well, intellectually I understand it's just not something to end an marriage (with a child) over, or get too worked up about. Once in a while, though, I do get worked up. I act out. I can't take one more instance of feeling like I don't matter that much and I blow. Then I feel bad, I apologize, saying "Well, there was a lot of truth to what I said about you controlling everything and making me feel like I don't matter, but I shouldn't have called you those names and yelled at you like that..." and things just move on...and don't really change.

I had plans to go to a "girls night out" (GNO) on Saturday. Meanwhile, we also caught wind and got the idea of a beer I had liked being on tap at the local Whole Foods that has taps and a grill and I had the craving and idea that this beer would go really great with a sandwich they serve, and couldn't we go there for lunch? He agreed and acknowledged, well, we don't do what you want or your ideas that much, sure, let's go. But then he got wind of a beer he wanted that would be tapped later, once a certain other one (not the one I wanted) was kicked. So, he wanted to wait til the beer guy posted on Facebook that the other beer was tapped too. I was a little thrown because I didn't want to go too late and have the nice lunch be right on top of the GNO dinner (which was early).

Now, I'm not super big on the GNOs anyway. I like the people well enough, but we're not super close. Sometimes I even feel a little awkward, but I like to go out in this way now and then because I feel like it's a normal and healthy thing to do. Even if I'd rather just stay home with my family because it's easier and I like them, I push myself to do these GNOs. I have to say my husband doesn't really encourage me to do them, either, while he doesn't explicitly discourage them, he never says "Oh, yeah, go out and have a great time! You deserve some fun!" Never would say that. He'd rather I didn't do anything. He doesn't feel like he "needs" friends outside our relationship, but he goes out now and then, I think for the same reasons I try to. I don't think he really feels its as important to psychological health as I do, though. And I don't really feel like the dynamic of our relationship holds him back the way I feel held back.

Anyway, he just insisted we wait and wait and wait for his beer to come up. I decided to bail on the GNO. I really wanted my beer and sandwich combo and felt like just hanging out with my family would be fun, too. But we waited and waited and waited til finally we couldn't wait anymore and it became an early dinner instead of lunch—and the beer I wanted was no longer on tap. I got screwed. He was only sorry because I bitched and moaned and he made a bunch of excuses of how it wasn't his fault, blah blah blah. If we could have just gone at a normal time like we were supposed to and he didn't put his desires over mine, I would have gotten what I liked (which he had previously acknowledged would have been special and rare...) So I was miffed. But we carried on.

Another piece of the conflict was that had I gone on the GNO, he'd brought up wanted to go to this Whole Foods maybe just with our daughter. I didn't want him to do this. I didn't want him to take the crappier car on the highway with her not in her best carseat and I didn't want him to be minding her and driving even having had just one drink because the beer can be strong and I believe he is a less adept caregiver and driver than I am sober or slightly buzzed. I've always been "the primary" with our daughter. I haven't minded, really. I love her to the extreme. I loved breastfeeding her, sleeping with her (still do when I can). I loved being home with her. There is a whole now in my life I am trying to fill with her in school all day. Still, I think there are many ways he could have contribute that he chooses not to. I am 99 percent of the time the disciplinarian. I am the one who registered her for school. Who makes sure the homework gets done. Who makes her special meals when she won't eat what we're eating. I am the gift shopper. I am the doctor appointment maker. I am the one who knows where the lost toys are. These, of course, are natural things that might fall to the stay-at-home or work-at-home mother, but as the child gets older, someone who wanted to do more to help could take it upon themselves to do it. He's not all bad, just not as "on" as I am to the point where I'm not super comfortable with him going lots of places with her. (OK, as I type this, I am realizing I am sounding maybe like the controlling one, so that's maybe something I need to explore...)

I wanted to take the nice car to the GNO so I could feel more special. It's a newer car and it makes me feel nice to drive it. The nice car kind of has defaulted to "mine." I know it's both of our cars, but he usually takes the crappy one, since he only drives a couple miles to the train station each morning. Also, he chooses to take the crappy one when he goes out to rock shows in the city because he thinks it's so much smaller than the nice one and so much easier to park. He even insists on taking the smaller, crappy car when we go on dates to the city—again, so much easier to park, allegedly. So he never seems to mind driving this crappy car...until I express a strong desire to drive it, or he comes upon a way to make it some kid of bargaining chip.

We've argued about the car before. He knows that I love the car and feel special driving it. (By the way, it's not some super luxury car, it's a 2006 RAV-4, but compared to the other car, it's just lovely.)

So, I'd bailed on this week's GNO, I'd missed the beer and sandwich combo that I wanted, and I get an email about the next GNO so mention that to my husband. I tell him I'd really feel better if he just stayed home with our daughter or only went somewhere close by with her in the crappy car. I wouldn't be able to relax and have fun worrying about them. He'd previously said I was weird and had irrational fears about this and I told him that he is weird in his own way and I have to accept it, I do accept it and so he was to accept little ways I am weird too. But he pushed back and pushed back and pushed back.

He wanted to be able to do what he wanted to do. He doesn't see that he's not as good and on-the-ball taking care of her as I am. When I try to explain to him, he just thinks he's right. I tell him that it's part his way, part that I'm not comfortable with them driving the rickety, old car with the second-rate car seat that far. I'd be OK with it just going a couple miles. I know that scientifically those opinions may not be valid, but its how I feel and I feel like I ask for so little, he should accept and respect it. He was fairly obstinate, though. We dropped it. He took a shower. I thought about it. I'd swallow my pride and not be so materialistic and I'd just drive the crappy car to the next GNO—a dinner party at the million-dollar home of one of them. I'd previously thought I'd feel bad, showing up in the jalopy, but then thought, who would actually see me in the car? And, I care more about my kid's safety than my looking cool in a cool(er) car. So I told him, you know what, I'll just take the crappy car to the GNO. But he cut me off and said, no, no, you can take the nice car on your night out, but I'm going to take it every day to work.

What?!? He then reiterated to me all the concerns I'd laid out for him about the crappy car on the highway with my small child but he spoke of them with regard to his safety having to make a left turn coming out the train station in the dark. He claimed this new insistence on him taking the nice car to work every day was for his safety. He claimed he'd worried about it now and then before, but it was my concerns now that really hit him. I do not believe him. I think he is using the nice car, the fact that it is something that makes me feel special and "taking it away from me" as a punishment. He actually said, that he paid for most of it and it was his car and he'd take it if he wanted. I just saw it as a hugely un-gallant power play. A way to hurt me. He knows the car means a lot to me. But what means more, and hurts more, is him being mean and manipulative.

When I really think about it, I can let go of the car. When I really think about it, I understand that he might want to drive the "nice" car sometimes. In fact, I have actually felt sorry for him for having to drive the crappy car. But for him to use it this way just really hurt. If he would have asked, if he would have asked to take the nice car at another time—not immediately after I laid out issues about the car. I feel like he's using it to punish me. I feel like he's trying to teach me I better not bring up any concerns, I better just shut up and let him do what he wants or else he'll take away something I like.

Our fight escalated. I screamed so much my chest hurt. I still feel anxiety and stress the day later, even though on the surface we "made up." I screamed again and again that it wasn't about the car but about the manipulation and the domination. He complained that I didn't care about him and he was just a paycheck. Later, I explained to him that if he is just a paycheck it's because that's what he's set himself up to be. When asked to help around the house (I usually have to ask specifically, he won't just do) it's often with a mild gripiness or he does a poor job. I feel he is a bare minimum around the home kind of person. He answers always with a spotlight on the fact that I "only work part time from home"—something I chose to do that I thought was best for our kid.

One of the most hurtful things—or I should say hurtful themes—is the lack of valuing of my staying home. He brings it up whenever he can. He says he'll do more around the house when I go back to work full time. He makes me feel devalued. It's as simple as that. He says I make him feel devalued too because I complain he's not ambitious enough and doesn't do enough around the house.

I feel like my "attacks" on him are only ever in response to his either making me feel devalued or not doing enough—so really, they are counter-attacks. I am not dumb enough to miss the bad cycle here, though, and not see that is is me who has to change the dynamic. So I always do. I always apologize and try to be nice after. He accepts, probably just glad he's off the hook and can have the opportunity to try and place nice for a little while, but eventually slide back into his domineering ways, and we move on.

I guess the only progress is me becoming more mindful of the fact that I am the one who has to change. I let go of my attachment to that car. I walked the child to school, I walked to my store errands. We'll walk home from school and walk to and from tae kwon do, probably. I could drive the crappy car if I needed to, but that might make me feel worse, I don't know. At least all this walking could be a boon to my health. That's what I try to do, look on the bright side. He says that when spring comes and it's lighter out later, he'll take the crappy car again because he won't feel unsafe making those left turns in the light. I think, he's trying to lend some validity to his "safety" scheme. Or, maybe it's legit. I don't know. I do know I am left feeling uncared for and manipulated and bullied into not voicing concerns or grievances. But, that is fine. It's better that I deal with them internally anyway, because after all, I can only change myself.


We'd gone hiking earlier that day. I was happy about it. We had a nice, low key time as a family. I posted pretty photos of it on Facebook. My happy family. But by the time I posted, there was already the pain of our fight. I tried to choose a good quote to keep it just this side of being phony. Some indication that my life is not so picture-perfect, but with the hope that I will be OK, that we will be OK. So I chose this, from John Muir: Nature is always lovely, invincible, glad, whatever is done and suffered by her creatures. All scars she heals, whether in rocks or water or sky or hearts...

Self-comfort through reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

Habit breakers

I came across this article yesterday—on new research showing that we're more focused and creative in the great outdoors—and it really struck me—I needed to get out into nature. I'd skipped running outside all weekend, trying to do new workouts and get over my lingering cold issues and so by then, I was longing for it. I didn't feel like running, however, after doing this new DVD for the first time Saturday, my muscles were still ridiculously sore. (I really like Cathe Friedrich. She's no-nonsense, really fit and older than me! An inspiration of what I could become, fitness wise, if I get my act together...On the other hand, I can't say I love the new yoga DVDs I got, a Tara Stiles set. She's kind of mumbly and the moves were really hard on the one I tried to do, with her offering no modifications and I miss the sanskrit terms, which add an air of specialness to it. Anyway, I want to like her, but we'll have to see... )

I decided to walk around the local lake and take our dog—both new and different things for me as I usually run and I usually do not take the dog. It was really nice and I like to think of it as a bit of a "habit breaker." I need to do more of these habit breaking things, and hopefully a book I'm reading, Mindfulness: An Eight-Week Plan for Finding Peace in a Frantic World, will help me. The book is about mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT), which has some good science behind it supporting mental health, peace and well being. (Yes, I am giving meditation another go, even after my disappointment over the summer.)

Each week of the reading will have two parts to it: a meditation exercise and habit breakers which are meant to free readers from their everyday, cyclical thinking. And, oh, do I need this. I am in quite a rut, but I do see trickles and flashes of sunlight way ahead of me at the end of some tunnel. The habit releaser for the first week is actually to sit in different chairs or alter the position of the chairs you use. I'll do that while I'm working and eating. I do tend to sit in the same seat of the sofa all the time. (It will be good for my sofa, too to not be worn in the same place, ha ha!)

The walk around the lake was more immediately profound, though. It had the benefit of being outdoors, away from a screen and gave me the sense that I was doing something special and nice for someone else (my dog) at the same time. I learned, too, that it might be a good idea when I run to leave the headphones at home. While I don't always have the time it takes to walk instead of run, and most of the time I do want the exercise of a good run rather than walk, I could probably benefit more from the mind-clearing, rather than grooving to mid-90s gangsta rap, trying to convince myself the lyrics don't matter and its the beats I love.

New year, new me?

It's been a looong time since I've blogged. I kind of gave up on the arguing over parenting articles vibe and went in search of a new identity. It's been a long time coming. Longer, certainly than the September to January lull of the blog. Now, as the mother of a school-age child, now 40, everything looks different. I'm forced to confront getting old and my life maybe not becoming much of anything more than what it is and being OK with that. Some ways I'm dealing with that is grooving on the cosmos and science, studying Buddhism and mindfulness and trying to get fit again, but in new ways. So if I continue blogging, I anticipate the posts will fall into those areas.

I recently came across this article on a study showing that people rarely imagine correctly what their future selves will be like. Basically, we can look back and retell in good detail how much we've changed over the past ten years, but when asked how we expect to change in the next ten years, we don't expect to much.

In the last ten years, I've gotten married and had a child, which changed me a lot from what I saw was a kind of rambly hedonistic comfort seeker to someone striving for a purpose, if only to raise a happy, healthy child and get by in life. Gosh, typing that out, it doesn't sound like I have a purpose, exactly, now, either, except the child raising part. What a lame mess I am!

And yet, I've come to a place where I can look upon myself with a degree of compassion. I am, after all, OK. I like myself, even knowing I should lose 20 pounds, don't have enough money saved for retirement, will probably just have a middling, but pleasant and well-paying job the rest of my life (if I am lucky) and even though I am not always the best mom and wife. Why do I like myself? I guess the alternative is too sad-sack and I've at least learned at this point in my life that I can't approach others with compassion unless I am compassionate with myself.

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.

 

Be present, be pleasant

Recently, I had a good talk with my mom on the phone. I think I must have been having one of my Iced Grande Americano-induced anxiety attacks. That, and I was feeling whack about the Affordable Care Act—not so much the Supreme Court ruling itself and that it was going through, but the barrage of comments on Facebook, Twitter, and such (there they are again, those awful, peace-destroying culprits) either gloating or complaining. That, and just general confusion, malaise, et cetera. I felt the weight of a confused, noisy world, closing in on me...alone in my boring suburb.

Now, if I had any will power (or sense) and had stayed the fuck off Facebook, like I was supposed to, maybe I wouldn't have had the mini-breakdown. I really, really must break the habit. Mostly there are banal things that give a little chuckle, which are nice, but come so cheap. Then there are the "spirited debates." I usually end up feeling...not right...worn down...something...wrong after them. Do I go on because I crave adult interaction...some...any connection with someone out there? I should be better, stronger, and more thoughtful than that. After all, I have a husband to connect with in the evenings. And I have a child who is pretty bright and interesting here most of the day. I also have a mom, reachable by phone...

So I called my mom. Usually I keep it light. I want her to think I have it all together, but this time, I actually cried. Just crazy dumb stresses, nothing major, except life.

I asked her about her philosophy on life, though not in so many words. I asked her about how she manages with the little anxieties. I asked her, what would she do, though, if she were in a really bad situation, like, like, like....a concentration camp. My mom is wonderful. She didn't tsk or act like it was an extremely weird question. She just answered, "Well, I would just try to not be part of the problem for anybody. I'd try not to make it any worse. I'd do my best to just be nice, be pleasant."

She extrapolated that advice—just be pleasant—to life in general, not just dealing with a concentration camp.  Wow. It really is that simple, isn't it? I mean, a cynic could say that's kind of Stepford-ish, but when you boil it down, it really might be a good way to get on. "Yes, I was watching this show with these two chefs, just bantering about the food, the recipe, and I thought to myself...they are just so...pleasant," she said. No strife, no drama, no point to prove, no cross to bear, no shoulder chip. Just pleasant. I know, I know, life can't always be like that and we can't always "be pleasant" but, if one is experiencing dissatisfaction with how they feel, how their world is being received by their mind and soul, how they themselves are acting out then, why not just try?

Be present, be pleasant.

I had thought I'd try out meditation. I'd heard so many great things about it. So, having ordered the Pema Chodron CD set on how to meditate, which is live and actually supposed to be like being in a real class, I set out to do this thing. It just was not for me. It wasn't that I couldn't just sit there and do nothing for 10, 20...60 minutes. I kind of could. She even allowed for the wandering monkey mind. No judgement. No "you're so bad because you can't focus or blank out your mind." It wasn't like that at all. You're supposed to just accept the thoughts and let them go. I don't know.

The thing that annoyed me so much about it was that the prescriptions seemed so academic and self-straining. You're supposed to sit a certain way. Your eyes are supposed to be cast this or that way (can't really remember). That there are actual instructions for this kind of killed the "tao" or flow or whatever for me. I'm better off going for a run and letting my mind wander, seriously.

I think the goal of meditation is to be in the present and be mindful. Wouldn't the very best practice for that be just doing it when you're doing what you would do anyway? So, that is what I am going to try and do. Make my life a meditation.

Be present, be pleasant.

My crack theory on why so many women are so nutty

UPDATE: I hope that the reader can tell by the tone here that I am referring mostly to diagnosing myself and only a little bit to the blogger I linked to. In fact, I can understand why many people would suffer from anxiety disorders in this day and age, and this latest article I came across goes into some of those reasons. In mild cases like what I've experienced, laying off the caffeine and making sure I get in a good sweat make a world of difference. I do understand that others may need more help. I'd love to see changes to the system rather than everyone just getting dosed up on Rx drugs, though.

ORIGINAL POST: In general, American women need more exercise, more sex and less coffee (or caffeine). And for some, they may be better laying off the web a bit, too.

This has been in the back of my mind for a while. A LOT of women take mood drugs. I've thought about it but something has always kept me away. And I'm glad. Now, it's not because I am anti-drug...at all. I'm not sure what it is. Maybe that I don't want to go through the clinical process of "talking to someone" to get the drugs (one reason I don't smoke pot, other than it being illegal, is that it was too much of a hassle finding and connecting with a seller). Maybe I just recognize that going deeper and actually solving problems is better for your head than slapping a chemical band-aid on it? Maybe there's no overarching reason and it's just my personal choice, or happenstance. But, here I am, Rx drug free.

I've struggled with anxiety and depression though, albeit mild, I suppose. My awareness of anxiety came to a head for me last week when I connected some dots and discovered that Iced Grande Americanos totally give me acute anxiety attacks. I mean, it was so extremely causal for me, it could not have been more clear. I guess that racing, fun feeling I used to think was so cool (or still do on a day that I have fun, easy plans and don't get too deep into my head) actually can spin the total wrong way under other circumstances. So, caffeine=problem for some in higher concentrated doses, or when piled on and on to more caffeine. I wonder how many other women are affected by caffeine in this way?

I'd also remembered reading (can't find the damn article now) about how many women don't have sex anymore (or masturbate, apparently) and so aren't getting the release of orgasm, or other relaxing chemical cocktail that can come from cuddling up, kissing, etc. with your man, even if you don't have an orgasm (though the orgasm is preferable to not, of course). I admit to being "too tired" or too pissy sometimes to want sex with my husband, but I usually get the job done on my own as needed. I wonder if maybe this would help some of these women with stress and anxiety issues? Aside from the masturbation, I'm working on being more selfish and taking what I need from the man, even if he leaves his underwear on the bedroom floor and crumbs on the counter. Why spite myself?

Then yesterday, I read this opinion piece about how everyone's "so busy" (you hear this a lot from women, moms, and then you hear about all the lessons, playdates and volunteer activities going on and you get a headache just listening—well, anyway, I do...) Sometimes I think people schedule and take on a super lot because they're afraid of what might come up if they do nothing. Or they feel they have to justify their existence.

So today I read this post from The Feminist Breeder. God bless her, but she needs to get the hell off the coffee (I hate to vilify a seemingly innocuous substance, but, if you're prone to anxiety, caffeine probably doesn't help), get the hell of the Internet (more on this coming) let her husband fuck her (she did that, finally, it seems) and not pack her life with so much stuff. But, she does have a rocky childhood and I'm not doctor, so my blurted out opinion can be taken with a grain of salt, of course. It just seems that if one still hasn't given up caffeine and started to exercise and eat right and do non-pharmaceutical interventions in earnest, it's too early to go to the meds. And it kind of goes without saying now that you need to exercise, damn it!

I also think maybe all this "socializing" and "sharing" on the Internet contributes to some women's anxiety—and depression. She writes "When people on my facebook page started going OFF on me because they found out that I shopped at Walmart, I still had a massive panic attack at the thought of opening my computer to their nastiness..." So, don't open it! I know, I know. We're all addicted to facebook and the Internet. But, if it's between anxiety and/or depressive freak-outs or somehow breaking the addiction, what are you gonna choose? Another drug?

I don't think people understand that prescription mood drugs are hard core chemicals...fucking with your brain. And, what about all those awful side effects? And, what would you do if you were stranded somewhere and didn't have your meds? Hell, I think about that with my contact lenses! I always like to think, shit, if I was stranded on some far flung place, I don't want to be that conditioned to anything or in need of a thing so bad that that would mess with me surviving or keeping it together in the bad situation. My contacts, though...(note to self: research LASIK).