We are all a work in progress

I've said and done some awful things in life. Nothing criminal, really, but, I've said mean things to people I love. I've acted selfishly. I've acted violently. Some of these recently. There have been periods of better behavior. Periods of calm. I have not really given adequate focus to my spirit, though. I have not put effort or intention into cultivating lovingkindness and compassion—at all. Even with my blip last spring, it quickly fell flat.

I feel like I have come to a place, though, now, where I can take the leap. That phrase comes naturally to describe what I mean to say, and is coincidentally the title of a book I'm reading (slowly) right now. Taking the Leap: Freeing Ourselves from Old Habits and Fears is Pema Chodron's latest. It focuses on shenpa or "attachment" and helping the reader see how certain habits of mind tend to “hook” us and get us stuck in states of anger, blame, self-hatred, and addiction. The idea is that if we can recognize these patterns, they instantly begin to lose their hold on us and we can begin to change our lives for the better. She talks about how this path entails uncovering three basic human qualities—natural intelligence, natural warmth, and natural openness. "Everyone, everywhere, all over the globe, has these qualities and can call on them to help themselves and others," Pema says.

I am only at the beginning of the book (I am reading at least 3 others concurrently, but do need to focus a bit, don't I?) but boy do I need it! I have been having a lot of difficulty in my relationship with my husband lately. I have been feeling like he is very selfish and uninterested in my happiness, to summarize a whole host of painful details. I am trying to muster the spiritual and emotional strength to not be so self-centered myself, either (ironic that I am accusing him of this, while I am saying "I am not getting enough"). It is difficult because I feel wanting for nurturing myself.

I also have issues of shenpa with judging and always trying to find fault. Even in abstract things or things that don't directly affect me. Parenting, politics, whatever. Pema, in an interview with Bill Moyers, notes that there is "something delicious about finding fault, even in ourselves," and we do have to let it go to find peace. Not surprisingly, this comes from insecurity.

Pema says, "Alot of us are just running around in circles pretending that there's ground when there isn't any ground...somehow, if we could learn to not be afraid of groundlessness, not be afraid of insecurity and uncertainty, it would be calling on an inner strength that would allow us to be open and free and loving and compassionate in any situation. But as long as we keep trying to scramble to get ground under our feet and avoid this uneasy feeling of groundlessness and insecurity and uncertainty and ambiguity or paradox or any of that, then the wars will continue, the racial prejudice will continue, the hatred of [people with a different sexual preference, skin color, politics] it will always continue because you can't avoid being triggered..." The trigger she means is the shenpa.

So, I was all wrong in my recent post (and so many other things) about "avoiding situations that oblige you to be inauthentic." No, you have to embrace the discomfort. Perhaps not be inauthentic, but understand that there is no separate self and be mindful of why it is you are uncomfortable.

I think that sometimes, to some people, I come off as confident, but in reality I am actually quite insecure. I have made a life project of scrambling for ground and as I am aging, it is beginning to become quite clear that ground is shifting and that my best investment, per se, is in my spiritual wellbeing.

This may sound selfish, but my spiritual seeking has been spawned partially from a sense of wanting to be protected. I have come to a point in my life that the only way I can be content and assure my sanity is through spirituality. People will always do annoying things. Why are they annoying? It must be me. Why am I threatened? (I am finally admitting that what I feel is threatened!) I know that I will never achieve great wealth, no matter how hard I work—there have been missed opportunities, and we could save, save, save and work very hard and then suffer an economic meltdown beyond our control. My interest is, at least partially, in developing the spiritual strength to weather that, should it happen. I am an aging woman and my beauty will fade, no matter how healthy I keep myself. I need to be comfortable in who I am beyond how I look. My child may not do everything I want. She may disappoint. My husband may be cruel. My friends may abandon me. A whole host of awful things may befall me. I simply can't pin my wellbeing on things that are inherently fleeting. What's more, all this lifelong grasping for ground has left me feeling not at peace and even when I let go, just a little, and think on things in the direction of mindfulness, I begin to feel more peace. So, I think, it works!

I have to be honest with myself without being too hard on myself, though, and this will enhance my compassion toward others. And compassion toward others is certainly a much more worthy goal than protecting myself, isn't it? One may want to say "we are all works in progress," but the first thing that came when I captioned my image and got the idea for this post was "we are all a work in progress"—the singular—which is a little magic in its observance of something universal and whole, and that there is no separate self. So hard to remember, but so important.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Girl Land—Embracing the substance, transcending the style

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

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

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

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

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

So, what the hell happened?

"Why did you say you were finished with this blog in June and now there are posts starting again in December? What happened between June and December? What's with these new posts? What the hell is going on? Are you a personal trainer now?" All fair questions! Let me explain...

No. I am not a personal trainer now. In fact, I've gained, like, 15 pounds, since the June "Fin" and am now trying to lose them. Maybe this will make me more likable to other women? Although it seems now that many of the moms I am encountering are 5-7 years younger than me and many more pounds lighter, but that's cool. I'm doing my journey.

I'd said I'd stop blogging because I felt like it was maybe not good for me or something, but the truth is, I have ideas and they keep coming. I tried blogging more publicly on a domain attached to my name, but I don't think I want to do that because I want to have the freedom to say things I may later wish to reneg and to just generally let fly with thoughts more than I might want to actually attach to my "in real life" person. In real life, I just want to get along with people, help my kid navigate friendships, school, etc. and not cause any trouble. But in my mind I have thoughts I want to hash out and it's for my own mental health that I'm going to blog, as needed, right here. So, that's where we are today.

"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.