Not scary in the way you think

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

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

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

Turns out, not really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't care what you feed your baby

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

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

The post closes with:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you and want you to be happy, so I am going to slowly kill you

April 1 I saw a segment on 60 Minutes highlighting data I'd already read (and chose to willfully ignore) in the New York Times last year—sugar is really pretty bad for our health and we eat way too much of it. I can't ignore it anymore and I thank dismissive friends and online commenters for showing me just how dearly we Americans—including me, until now—guard our sugar addiction and the role it plays in our culture and lifestyle. The first day of the month is a great time to turn over a new leaf, start fresh and try to do the right thing, which is, to cut waaaaaay down on sugar. It's unfortunate, though, that as soon as tomorrow our family has plans to go get our free Ben & Jerry's ice cream and that is not something my husband is going to let go of. I don't even like Ben & Jerry's ice cream, but he is a free stuff junkie and already talked it up to the kid. My solution will be to have my daughter and I share our scoop, then avoid treats as long as we can.

This should be a little easier this week, since my kid is on spring break from school. At school, it's always more difficult. Last week, for example, one child one day brought cookies for the class and later the same week, the same child brought brownies. (This is a lovely child with a very attractive and thin mom, just as a side note that I find interesting but is probably completely unrelated.) She was "star of the week" that week (a little thing they do at the school) but were two treats really necessary? We brought fruit and cheese kabobs when my child was star of the week!

Now I am totally guilty myself of giving too many treats at home, but I don't like to have them be a part of school. I like to administer them when I want to, at strategic and thoughtful times and only after nutritious and healthy food has first been consumed. I recognize, also, that I need to change (as opposed to being completely in denial). Even though our family eats arguably less junk with sugar than the average American family, too often I find myself making cupcakes to celebrate...a Tuesday? Or because I am in the mood for homemade chocolate chip cookies. It really has to stop. I have to save the treats for holidays, outings (like the Ben & Jerry's but no, not all outings) and such. That it is "hard" is a sign that it's a problem.

When I spoke to the director of the preschool after the first week of school, having heard my child had 3 treats in that one week alone (I guess they were catching up on birthdays?), my request that they stop the practice of bringing birthday treats in was met with "No, I won't do that. Birthdays are special for the children, they like to celebrate and bring treats...blah blah blah..." Well, couldn't they do a once a month group birthday celebration? I think that many people just don't get the gravity of it and have no clue how much sugar is in things and what it does to the body. That, and it's just not something we want to focus on. We all want to be happy and have fun. It's a little sad and uncreative, though, that we need junk food to have fun, isn't it?

It was interesting to me last night that the reaction to "news" that sugar is bad for us and we eat too much was...a whole lot of defensiveness and denial (discussing on Facebook and reading comments on the 60 Minutes website). Some people were like, "this is news? of course sugar's bad for you, but not toxic and we don't eat that much, anyway..." They weren't paying attention at all to the latest data indicating that sugar is much worse for us than we think (leading to more overeating, poor memory formation, learning disorders, depression, as well as heart disease and obvious things like diabetes) and they certainly weren't facing the reality of how much excess we're consuming (156 pounds a year).

When I posted the link to the 60 Minutes story on Facebook, an average-girl-mom-friend countered that "kids DESERVE ice cream on a hot summer night...or just a 'family together time'" and how mad it made her that "what we did and ate as kids is now killing or bad for our kids...and I will not stop letting my kid be a kid..they need sunshine.....and sometimes that comes in the form of sugar..." a sciencey engineering friend (who drinks at least one Mt. Dew a day, but considers himself healthy) dismissed it as vilification of one ingredient saying " ...it does no one any good blaming individual ingredients" and saying that all things in moderation are OK.

I can buy the moderation point to some extent, but the thing is, the data shows we've lost all grasp of what moderation is. So many people seem offended by the suggestion that something we all do all the time, and that we did as kids, and our parents did is bad for us. They say, "but I ate all this and I am fine" in one post, while in another one complaining of all their ailments as they creep up toward age 40 and beyond. So, not fine, actually! This data is an attack on our culture to some extent, as well as a threat to our addiction. And we are totally addicted. Even I, who eat more healthfully than most Americans (I keep saying that because from everything I read Americans as a whole eat awful diets and at least I try—no soda, no red meat, lots of veggies...) fall into the trap. The science shows that the brain responds to sugar essentially the same way it does to cocaine (this is in the 60 Minutes segment).

In considering how much added sugar one should have, I remembered a figure I'd read a couple years ago when I had started a push to get in really great shape. Jackie Warner in her book, This is Why You're Fat (And How to Get Thin Forever), explains that the body doesn't register less than five grams of sugar, so we should eat things that have five grams of sugar or less per serving (and stick to one serving, natch) at a sitting. This is moderation for day-to-day. Most cupcakes, for example, have at least 20 grams of sugar. I can't imagine a life of never again eating a cupcake, but I now believe that the instances of these pleasures should be memorable, and therefore rare.

Barbies, beauty and keeping girls busy

I came across an intriguing post on Facebook the other day about what Barbie's actual measurements would be if she were a real woman.



I reposted because the numbers had never hit me quite like that before and what first came to mind was poor Barbie—she can't even walk upright and doesn't get to eat much. I didn't think poor me, I have to try to attain this body and it is so very hard to do so.

It started up a bit of a conversation between some who tended to agree that Barbies weren't great for kids to play with and others who thought they were just fine and had fun memories of playing with them themselves. One commenter joked that she'd be every man's dream and I wasn't sure if she was being straight or facetious, but I thought, no, the average guy appreciates a nice set of boobs, but a figure like this would be, I hate to say it—laughable, and not truly desired by most men.

Personally, I don't have a big problem with Barbie, but I think a lot of it might just be because she holds little power or interest in our house with my daughter. She'll play with the dolls she has from time to time, but she prefers to build with blocks or make things out of paper, play doh, and stuff like that. I wondered, though, what Barbie means to my daughter. Now, I don't know if she even knows Barbie, as in the blonde, name-brand iconic doll. She only has a Belle version (yeah, Belle from Disney's Beauty and the Beast, which she has never even seen, I think this just happened to be the doll they had at Giant when I got the idea to buy her a doll) and some cheap Japanese anime-looking thing my mother-in-law got her. So to her, they're just dolls. But, do they hold any influence in terms of being "models" to her for what a woman should be?

I asked her some questions about the Belle Barbie and contrasted it with a flat wood child dress-up doll, as you can observe in the video opening this post. I think her responses reveal a mixed bag of meaning. She says that the doll looks like a real lady and in fact, looks like mommy. (Really? Gee, thanks!)

When asked what the doll does for a job, she assigns a job based on what she is doing at the time—art—as well as what she perceives my job to be (art). Beyond that, she seems mostly focused on hair length and style and doesn't read the doll as particularly skinny. This in itself could be problematic to some, since, according to real measurements, she would be rather skinny, but then again, the child said the doll looked like me, who is not particularly skinny—which makes me think that maybe children are not as focused on weight as adults are (or at least my child is not).

However, when asked if she thinks everyone should look like the doll, she says yes, albeit with a mischievous looking grin. But when asked what happens to people if they don't look like the doll, she says we have to make them look like "you," meaning to me, like the real people. The rest of our conversation gives a bit of a jumbled perspective. She point blank says she feels good about herself and that the dolls don't make her feel bad, and when pressed, she decides she's had enough and exclaims "I'm busy!"

This is the part I love the most about the whole thing, I think. She was busy painting and humored me for a bit about the dolls, but then she just wanted to get back to what she was doing which was clearly more important than the dolls. It seemed to me that she wasn’t really interested in how the dolls looked in the same way adults would be (hence the disconnect between my questions and the kind of answers she was giving).

I don't love Barbie, I just don't see the doll as dangerous as some people do. I'm not saying that Barbies don't represent an unrealistic image of the female form. It's fairly obvious that they do. Some more than others. Nowadays there are a wide variety of Barbies. But what is less clear is how girls at various ages interpret this unrealistic form. And whether it matters. Few toys are realistic. Children have huge imaginations. And I just don't know if younger girls are seeing these Barbies the way adult women (or ever older girls) do. Maybe my kid is not the best barometer of the damage Barbie can cause, since she's not that into them. Still, I think her reactions to the questions about the dolls and their appearance and her own feelings were interesting in the way they didn't fall in line completely with the kind of reaction one might expect—no noting the stark difference between the real mommy and the doll, no saying mommy was fatter, no giving the Barbie a fluff "job" like "princess" or something. She was very focused on the real people setting the tone for what went on and the dolls just being stand ins for us (even the flat little girl who played with wolves was a stand in for my daughter, herself, who is forever playing such make-believe stories). Most of all, though she just wanted to get back to painting her own picture!

I think what's probably more important and effective than blaming plastic dolls for girls' self doubt and unrealized potential is to make sure they have other stuff to do and other "role models" in the form of real, living, breathing women who are involved with them and not themselves emulating the Barbie lifestyle.

I went through a rough patch with weight when I was about 10–13 or 14. At first, I didn't even know I was fat and I didn't care. My mom, whether it was by strategy or by accident, was pretty nonchalant about it. I got lead roles in school plays as Evita (in a production highlighting various Broadway shows) and as Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, so no discrimination there. (Not bragging, these were small potatoes, just saying to illustrate that I was obliviously confident back then, until....). It was only over some time and a series of events—a family member made a comment about my weight, kids were making fun of me, and an ineffective doctor asked me "Is there anything you want to talk to me about?" (to which I replied, uhm, no) and then he mentioned my weight—that I started to feel bad about myself. It had nothing to do with plastic dolls, but about real people in my world. Let's not pass the buck to Barbie while failing to watch what we as people actually do and instead make sure we actively engage with our girls. Surely, living people can have more impact than dolls.

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!