Although you wouldn't necessarily gather this about me by looking around my house, I don't like clutter and mess. I like things to generally be in their place and semi-straightened up. I have a family that includes three boys and one husband; I know my house is never going to look like something out of a magazine (unless maybe there is a print version of Hoarders, but I digress...) and I don't really want it to. But I do like things to be generally in order.
This week has been a tough one, because we're in transition. We're moving out old furniture and moving new stuff in. So. Half of the old set, which has found a new home with a good friend, is still in my garage. We started loading it into a truck and then...the skies opened and out poured enough rain to fill Lake Michigan. Well, maybe not quite that much, but honestly, it's been raining here for weeks. So, the rest of that set sits in the garage until the friends and the husband can both be here at the same time to load and move.
This also means that there is no furniture in the bedroom. As in, sleeping on the floor. Amid piles of clothes. Since there is, of course, no bed and no dressers in there. I have slept in worse conditions, that is true. And I had some cushy comforters and blankies to make a reasonably comfortable nest out of. It wasn't that bad, and it was only two nights.
As I am typing this, two strapping young men are upstairs putting together the new bedroom set and I can hardly wait to start putting things back to rights. Clothes in dressers, knick-knacks back on shelves. I can hear the power tools buzzing right this very minute, and it really makes me happy. It's not something I can do, build furniture, but it sure makes me happy that others can. It will make the mess in my house go away, at least temporarily.
Just like in my bedroom, clutter and mess in my life make me grumpy too. There has been some more family drama as of late, and I am only indirectly involved. It directly affects people that I love, and there is very little I can do about that either. I can provide emotional support, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen and maybe offer some insight or advice. But I can't fix what's wrong. And I can't stop the tears from flowing, and the pain from crashing in.
And just like these guys that are fixing the disarray in my room, there is a silver lining in all these clouds that will bring light into the darkness that has been hanging over my family for several weeks now.
That's the thing....I have to learn to live with the temporary disarray and messiness, in order to get to the order and (relative) neatness that makes me feel better. And I have to let my people suffer the pain and wander in the dark, so that they can find that silver lining. If it was light all the time, they'd never see that one sparkly place.
And man, is it a good silver lining.
I really dislike clutter and mess, darkness and pain. But I have learned that it is a necessary step on the way to a happy and peaceful place.
Now I'm going upstairs to put my clothes away and make my new bed :)
28 April 2011
18 April 2011
Faith and conversion
I just read the most amazing book yesterday. (Book club girls, look away, LOOK AWAY, if you haven't read it yet!)
It is called Unplanned, and it is written by a young woman named Abby Johnson, who was at one time the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic. She had a dramatic conversion over the course of several years working for Planned Parenthood first as a volunteer, and eventually as a fulltime paid employee, rising to the level of director of her own clinic and a media representative for Planned Parenthood. She is passionate about helping women; you can see that and feel it in her story. No matter which side of the fence she is on, literally or figuratively, you can really get a sense of the depth of her commitment. This post is not a debate about abortion or reproduction rights or any of that icky political stuff. I have my beliefs, and you have yours, but I don't want to argue. And see, this is my blog :)
No, I don't want to debate at what point a fetus becomes viable, or what point a fetus gains legal personhood or what the intricacies of the law should look like in my perfect world. I want to examine Abby's conversion and just stand in awe at what faith can do.
Abby was firmly pro-choice, and believed strongly that women should have the right to choose what to do with their own bodies. Abby believed whole-heartedly that Planned Parenthood's mission was to decrease the number of abortions overall, and she believed she was working for the betterment of women's lives. She believed she was working as a part of a force for good in the world.
But she always had these little questions nagging at her. She couldn't always reconcile what she said she believed with the actions she took. She was horrified when a very pregnant woman came into her clinic and asked for a late-term abortion, at twenty-three weeks. Her own line in the sand was at the point of viability; she couldn't abide late term abortions. But this woman really challenged her; she said to Abby, "What difference does it make, six weeks or twenty-three weeks? Isn't it all the same anyway? I just want it out of me." Bound by her commitment and responsibility as clinic director, Abby sent the woman to a medical facility that did late term abortions, not being able to budge the woman from her decision with adoption agency referrals or the knowledge that the baby was in fact medically viable. The woman simply didn't care, and it bothered Abby greatly. But this was not the point where she acted. Not yet. She was asked to assist in a procedure one day, and what she saw and what she felt in that room added to her growing inner turmoil But this was not the point where she acted yet either.
Finally, she was given a reprimand and a stern talking-to about her clinic's failure to meet its financial goals. She was told to do whatever she had to do, to raise revenue. She knew that the clinic made the most money from performing abortions as opposed to family planning and birth control education, and she believed she was being told to increase, not decrease, the number of abortions performed in her clinic. That went against everything she believed she had been working for, and that was what finally pushed her into action. She left Planned Parenthood and ran into the arms of the "enemy," the Coalition for Life.
Outside of Abby's clinic, there was a fence with a gate where Planned Parenthood employees and client drove through to park their cars. The fence is symbolic in Abby's story; it's not the kind of fence you can sit on. You must choose a side. On one side was Planned Parenthood and on the other was the Coalition for Life and other pro-life individuals who would stand on the sidewalk and offer prayers, or try to persuade the clients going in not to go, that there were other options they should consider.
Out of all of the facets to Abby's story, the one thing that I found most compelling was her relationship with God. She wanted to be closer to Him, but she wouldn't give up the one thing that meant so much to her, her job. She truly believed she was doing good work and her family needed the paycheck she brought in. She went from church to church, finding varying degrees of comfort and acceptance, but never finding her spiritual home. She heard God's quiet questions and she wondered why, if she was doing good and she could take pride in her work, she couldn't tell her family about her job? Why did she avoid talking about it with her mother? Why did her pro-life husband, although he loved her, challenge her when she wanted to talk about things that happened in the clinic? Why did she avoid telling people at church what she did for a living? All these questions....
When we know we are doing what we are meant to do or following God's will for us, there is an inner peace that overcomes the questions. Not that the questions necessarily go away forever, but they don't hold the same power. It feels easier to let them go. Abby didn't stop having concerns but because her faith was increasing she was better able to trust that God would answer them in time. It's really hard to step out in faith, not knowing where the path leads, and afraid that it will lead you away from everything you know and all your places that feel familiar and safe.
Abby did just that, and I am in awe.
Her book is difficult, very difficult to read in places. I cried with her, more than once. But ultimately, in the end, it is a beautiful story of faith and redemption. It got me thinking about a lot of things, in ways I never had before. It made me question myself on what I believe, and why I believe. I don't know Abby Johnson and will probably never meet her. I borrowed the copy of Unplanned from one of my book club girls, didn't pay for it and didn't get asked to write about it. But I have been moved and affected by Abby's story, and it's made me approach my faith and my beliefs in a new way and I wanted to share it. I hope you will consider reading Unplanned, and letting it challenge you.
It is called Unplanned, and it is written by a young woman named Abby Johnson, who was at one time the director of a Planned Parenthood clinic. She had a dramatic conversion over the course of several years working for Planned Parenthood first as a volunteer, and eventually as a fulltime paid employee, rising to the level of director of her own clinic and a media representative for Planned Parenthood. She is passionate about helping women; you can see that and feel it in her story. No matter which side of the fence she is on, literally or figuratively, you can really get a sense of the depth of her commitment. This post is not a debate about abortion or reproduction rights or any of that icky political stuff. I have my beliefs, and you have yours, but I don't want to argue. And see, this is my blog :)
No, I don't want to debate at what point a fetus becomes viable, or what point a fetus gains legal personhood or what the intricacies of the law should look like in my perfect world. I want to examine Abby's conversion and just stand in awe at what faith can do.
Abby was firmly pro-choice, and believed strongly that women should have the right to choose what to do with their own bodies. Abby believed whole-heartedly that Planned Parenthood's mission was to decrease the number of abortions overall, and she believed she was working for the betterment of women's lives. She believed she was working as a part of a force for good in the world.
But she always had these little questions nagging at her. She couldn't always reconcile what she said she believed with the actions she took. She was horrified when a very pregnant woman came into her clinic and asked for a late-term abortion, at twenty-three weeks. Her own line in the sand was at the point of viability; she couldn't abide late term abortions. But this woman really challenged her; she said to Abby, "What difference does it make, six weeks or twenty-three weeks? Isn't it all the same anyway? I just want it out of me." Bound by her commitment and responsibility as clinic director, Abby sent the woman to a medical facility that did late term abortions, not being able to budge the woman from her decision with adoption agency referrals or the knowledge that the baby was in fact medically viable. The woman simply didn't care, and it bothered Abby greatly. But this was not the point where she acted. Not yet. She was asked to assist in a procedure one day, and what she saw and what she felt in that room added to her growing inner turmoil But this was not the point where she acted yet either.
Finally, she was given a reprimand and a stern talking-to about her clinic's failure to meet its financial goals. She was told to do whatever she had to do, to raise revenue. She knew that the clinic made the most money from performing abortions as opposed to family planning and birth control education, and she believed she was being told to increase, not decrease, the number of abortions performed in her clinic. That went against everything she believed she had been working for, and that was what finally pushed her into action. She left Planned Parenthood and ran into the arms of the "enemy," the Coalition for Life.
Outside of Abby's clinic, there was a fence with a gate where Planned Parenthood employees and client drove through to park their cars. The fence is symbolic in Abby's story; it's not the kind of fence you can sit on. You must choose a side. On one side was Planned Parenthood and on the other was the Coalition for Life and other pro-life individuals who would stand on the sidewalk and offer prayers, or try to persuade the clients going in not to go, that there were other options they should consider.
Out of all of the facets to Abby's story, the one thing that I found most compelling was her relationship with God. She wanted to be closer to Him, but she wouldn't give up the one thing that meant so much to her, her job. She truly believed she was doing good work and her family needed the paycheck she brought in. She went from church to church, finding varying degrees of comfort and acceptance, but never finding her spiritual home. She heard God's quiet questions and she wondered why, if she was doing good and she could take pride in her work, she couldn't tell her family about her job? Why did she avoid talking about it with her mother? Why did her pro-life husband, although he loved her, challenge her when she wanted to talk about things that happened in the clinic? Why did she avoid telling people at church what she did for a living? All these questions....
When we know we are doing what we are meant to do or following God's will for us, there is an inner peace that overcomes the questions. Not that the questions necessarily go away forever, but they don't hold the same power. It feels easier to let them go. Abby didn't stop having concerns but because her faith was increasing she was better able to trust that God would answer them in time. It's really hard to step out in faith, not knowing where the path leads, and afraid that it will lead you away from everything you know and all your places that feel familiar and safe.
Abby did just that, and I am in awe.
Her book is difficult, very difficult to read in places. I cried with her, more than once. But ultimately, in the end, it is a beautiful story of faith and redemption. It got me thinking about a lot of things, in ways I never had before. It made me question myself on what I believe, and why I believe. I don't know Abby Johnson and will probably never meet her. I borrowed the copy of Unplanned from one of my book club girls, didn't pay for it and didn't get asked to write about it. But I have been moved and affected by Abby's story, and it's made me approach my faith and my beliefs in a new way and I wanted to share it. I hope you will consider reading Unplanned, and letting it challenge you.
12 April 2011
Any regrets?
**I received a complimentary copy of 29, by Adena Halpern, from my friends at From Left to Write and while this post was inspired by the book, I have received no compensation for it. The thoughts and opinions in this piece are all my own and are not necessarily endorsed by From Left to Write or the author of the book.**
I have often thought about what I would do differently over the course of my life, if I had a chance to go back and do it over again. Adena Halpern's heroine, Ellie, in 29 got just such a chance. I really enjoyed reading the book, but even more than that, I enjoyed a meander down memory lane and a mental do-over just to see how things might have gone had I made another choice at several crossroads in my life. And if I had that chance, would I get to have the benefit of knowing what I know now? THAT would make a big difference. What age would I go back to? Which choice would I get to undo? It really kind of opens up a whole bunch of other questions, doesn't it?
One of my big regrets that I often think about was my decision to quit the job that I loved when my first child was born. I was a cargo loadmaster in the AF Reserve, and I LOVED my job. I oversaw cargo loading and unloading on C141 jets, and flew (literally) around the world as part of my work. My crew and I would leave our base, fly somewhere and pick up a load of stuff bound for somewhere else, fly there and download it. Sometimes we'd stay there, or sometimes we'd go and pick up another planeload of stuff somewhere else. Sometimes we just flew passengers (usually troops or military family members) and sometimes we flew aeromedical evac missions. We worked hard and played hard. We stayed hotel rooms in beautiful places sometimes and we stayed in tents in scary places other times. I have been all over Europe, several Middle Eastern locations, Asia, Central and South America, the Pacific Rim. I have pictures of myself on horseback at the pyramids in Egypt, and outside of centuries-old German castles, and on the beach in Hawaii. My very first mission, my "dollar ride," went to the south of France. I have a collection of t-shirts and souvenirs from all over. We used to call them "MAC treasures," MAC meaning Military Airlift Command. MAC is no more; the name is gone, but the mission of military airlift moves on, just under a different acronym. There certain things everyone bought in certain countries. There was the black soap from Spain, the wooden chests from the Azores. There were Persian rugs from Kuwait and leather purses and jackets from Turkey. In Korea, you could buy an amazing array of embroidered things: what we used to call "morale patches" for your flight suit, helmet bags that were bigger than the AF issued ones with your name and your wings sewn right on. Bag tags with anything you wanted embroidered on them, in any color you wanted. I had blue ones with my name and my wings, and Snoopy the Flying Ace on mine. Most of my friends were flight crew members also, and so was my husband. My whole world was on that airplane, for the most part.
And then, there was Moe. Sweet little Moe, precious baby, forced me to re-evaluate what was really important to me. I believed, right up till the moment I said, "I can't," that I would take some time off to be with him, and then I'd pack my bag for a short 3 or 4 day trip once in awhile, keeping the best of both worlds. I'm a notorious fence sitter...my butt is perfectly made to get real comfortable up there. My boss, Chief H, was as patient and kind as he could be; his first grandchild was born close to the same time as Moe, so he got to live through his daughter's pregnancy and mine almost simultaneously. He said, "Take as much time as you need. Your job will be here." Until he couldn't anymore, and he called me at home and said, "It's time for you to make a decision. I need to get you into the training schedule." As I was talking to him, I was sitting in Moe's room, watching my four month old baby boy sleeping peacefully, and I just couldn't bring myself to say, "Put me in, Coach." Instead, I said, "I don't think I can, Chief."
I had made my back-up plan and lined up another job that did not require me to travel. And as much as I loved the folks in that office, the first day I set foot in there, my heart sank and I knew that I had chosen wrong. It was a no-win; I didn't want to leave my baby, but I wanted a job that made me feel good too. If I was going to leave him to go to work, even part time, hadn't it better be worth it? But I was stuck with the decision I made, and over the years, I think I have made the best of it. After Moe came Larry and Curly, and today, flying is certainly out of the question altogether. I'd have been able to fly for maybe another year or two, most, anyway. I have discovered other things I love doing and my military career marches on. To a different beat and at a different pace, to be sure, but still it marches on. I am still friends with some of the same people, and I am still married to the same guy, so I have done pretty well in keeping the best of both worlds.
But....given the chance, would I go back to being 29 and making that decision over again? I don't know that I would decide differently. I had parents who weren't there when I was growing up and as much as I loved my job, I don't think I could have done it with my whole heart anymore. The minute I left the local pattern, I'd have been itching to get back home and get my hands on Moe. Where I used to identify myself as an AF reservist, a loadmaster, a flyer....now I identify myself more as Moe, Larry and Curly's mom and Captain America's wife. I am still an AF reservist and proudly wear the uniform (although it's not a flight suit anymore) and I wear other hats too.
I talk to my friends who are still flying and tell them how I still miss it, 11 years later. They ask me, if you could go back and change it, would you?
No, I still don't think I would. I would be tempted, seriously tempted. But I'd have to say that I love my life and if I had continued to fly, who knows what it would look like? No, it was a really hard decision that had some long lasting ripple effects, and I often wonder, what if? Given the chance, I still feel sure I made the right decision for me and my family, no matter how hard it was at the time.
In the book 29, Ellie gets to do some similar soul-searching, but you'll have to read it to see where her heart lies :)
I have often thought about what I would do differently over the course of my life, if I had a chance to go back and do it over again. Adena Halpern's heroine, Ellie, in 29 got just such a chance. I really enjoyed reading the book, but even more than that, I enjoyed a meander down memory lane and a mental do-over just to see how things might have gone had I made another choice at several crossroads in my life. And if I had that chance, would I get to have the benefit of knowing what I know now? THAT would make a big difference. What age would I go back to? Which choice would I get to undo? It really kind of opens up a whole bunch of other questions, doesn't it?
One of my big regrets that I often think about was my decision to quit the job that I loved when my first child was born. I was a cargo loadmaster in the AF Reserve, and I LOVED my job. I oversaw cargo loading and unloading on C141 jets, and flew (literally) around the world as part of my work. My crew and I would leave our base, fly somewhere and pick up a load of stuff bound for somewhere else, fly there and download it. Sometimes we'd stay there, or sometimes we'd go and pick up another planeload of stuff somewhere else. Sometimes we just flew passengers (usually troops or military family members) and sometimes we flew aeromedical evac missions. We worked hard and played hard. We stayed hotel rooms in beautiful places sometimes and we stayed in tents in scary places other times. I have been all over Europe, several Middle Eastern locations, Asia, Central and South America, the Pacific Rim. I have pictures of myself on horseback at the pyramids in Egypt, and outside of centuries-old German castles, and on the beach in Hawaii. My very first mission, my "dollar ride," went to the south of France. I have a collection of t-shirts and souvenirs from all over. We used to call them "MAC treasures," MAC meaning Military Airlift Command. MAC is no more; the name is gone, but the mission of military airlift moves on, just under a different acronym. There certain things everyone bought in certain countries. There was the black soap from Spain, the wooden chests from the Azores. There were Persian rugs from Kuwait and leather purses and jackets from Turkey. In Korea, you could buy an amazing array of embroidered things: what we used to call "morale patches" for your flight suit, helmet bags that were bigger than the AF issued ones with your name and your wings sewn right on. Bag tags with anything you wanted embroidered on them, in any color you wanted. I had blue ones with my name and my wings, and Snoopy the Flying Ace on mine. Most of my friends were flight crew members also, and so was my husband. My whole world was on that airplane, for the most part.
And then, there was Moe. Sweet little Moe, precious baby, forced me to re-evaluate what was really important to me. I believed, right up till the moment I said, "I can't," that I would take some time off to be with him, and then I'd pack my bag for a short 3 or 4 day trip once in awhile, keeping the best of both worlds. I'm a notorious fence sitter...my butt is perfectly made to get real comfortable up there. My boss, Chief H, was as patient and kind as he could be; his first grandchild was born close to the same time as Moe, so he got to live through his daughter's pregnancy and mine almost simultaneously. He said, "Take as much time as you need. Your job will be here." Until he couldn't anymore, and he called me at home and said, "It's time for you to make a decision. I need to get you into the training schedule." As I was talking to him, I was sitting in Moe's room, watching my four month old baby boy sleeping peacefully, and I just couldn't bring myself to say, "Put me in, Coach." Instead, I said, "I don't think I can, Chief."
I had made my back-up plan and lined up another job that did not require me to travel. And as much as I loved the folks in that office, the first day I set foot in there, my heart sank and I knew that I had chosen wrong. It was a no-win; I didn't want to leave my baby, but I wanted a job that made me feel good too. If I was going to leave him to go to work, even part time, hadn't it better be worth it? But I was stuck with the decision I made, and over the years, I think I have made the best of it. After Moe came Larry and Curly, and today, flying is certainly out of the question altogether. I'd have been able to fly for maybe another year or two, most, anyway. I have discovered other things I love doing and my military career marches on. To a different beat and at a different pace, to be sure, but still it marches on. I am still friends with some of the same people, and I am still married to the same guy, so I have done pretty well in keeping the best of both worlds.
But....given the chance, would I go back to being 29 and making that decision over again? I don't know that I would decide differently. I had parents who weren't there when I was growing up and as much as I loved my job, I don't think I could have done it with my whole heart anymore. The minute I left the local pattern, I'd have been itching to get back home and get my hands on Moe. Where I used to identify myself as an AF reservist, a loadmaster, a flyer....now I identify myself more as Moe, Larry and Curly's mom and Captain America's wife. I am still an AF reservist and proudly wear the uniform (although it's not a flight suit anymore) and I wear other hats too.
I talk to my friends who are still flying and tell them how I still miss it, 11 years later. They ask me, if you could go back and change it, would you?
No, I still don't think I would. I would be tempted, seriously tempted. But I'd have to say that I love my life and if I had continued to fly, who knows what it would look like? No, it was a really hard decision that had some long lasting ripple effects, and I often wonder, what if? Given the chance, I still feel sure I made the right decision for me and my family, no matter how hard it was at the time.
In the book 29, Ellie gets to do some similar soul-searching, but you'll have to read it to see where her heart lies :)
07 March 2011
The Pledge
I recently read about something called The Mom Pledge, on my friend Elizabeth's blog, and it really piqued my interest.
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
She's written this great book about ceasing and desisting from the colossally ridiculous Mommy Wars, where we moms beat each other up mercilessly for making different choices than we ourselves did. Stay-at-home vs. working, breast-feeding vs. bottle-feeding, co-sleeping vs. cry-it-out, spanking vs. no-spank, cloth vs. disposable, jar baby food vs. grow your own, circumcise vs. intact, baby-wearing vs. exersaucers.....the list of these battles never ends. The fact of the matter is that the vast majority of us are all doing the very best we can with our kids, from day to day, doing what we believe in our hearts is the best thing for our own families. Who can find fault with that? Why must we not just critcize, but crucify, those who make different choices than we do? What makes us the authority on someone else's child? What right do we have to demean and excoriate someone else's mothering? Is ours so perfect? Really?
So, I have a few things to say about the Mommy Wars and the Mom Pledge. You knew that was coming, right?
I've pretty much laid out my feelings on the Mommy Wars. But in case there is any doubt, I think they are stupid and destructive. Motherhood is a gift. It's a blessing. And until you are there in it, no one can tell you how unbelievably difficult it is, at the same time it is so rewarding. It's so hard, to be so sleep deprived with a new infant, a colicky baby, a stubborn toddler....it's shocking that such a small person can literally bring a grown woman to her knees. But they do. Daily.
Which is why we moms need other, more experienced moms so desperately to help us navigate the rough waters. And we don't need their criticism. Especially as a new mom, you need to know that you're doing ok. Even if you can't nurse, or if you have to go back to work, or if you simply need someone else to take the baby out of earshot for 20 minutes so you can decompress. So what if you aren't following whatever the latest baby book of "wisdom" just got published, because there just aren't enough hours in the day to grow your own organic garden to make your own organic baby food, hand-wash your baby's organic cloth diapers in spring water and lovingly prepare perfectly balanced meals for your adoring spouse and perfectly-behaved older children who never complain about what's for dinner and beg for the pizza delivery man? So what if you're flying by the seat of your pants? So what if you haven't showered in two days? So what?
I remember vividly when my boys were babies, and I stayed awake at night, when I should have been getting the sleep I needed so badly. I stayed up worrying because some other mom on a message board told me I had irrevocably scarred my son and he would fault me someday because of choices my husband and I made for him. Other moms proclaimed against those of us who had taken pain medication in labor, that we had all made conscious choices to drug our babies, and that they would suffer for it and we'd have no one to blame but ourselves. There is no limit to the ways mothers can wound other moms, and frankly it makes me angry.
Why? Seriously, why? Are we all that insecure with our choices that we need to beat up on someone else to make ourselves feel better? Do we really think we're so much better than others who choose differently?
Only in the last couple of years have I come to truly appreciate the depth of my need for my circle of girlfriends....my village. I lean on them and they lean on me. Dude, I NEED them. And I have been blessed, BLESSED, I tell you, with a phenomenal group of friends and acquaintances that help me navigate, whether they realize it or not. Some moms I know a little bit....we chit-chat in the school parking lot waiting to pick up our kids or on the sidelines of the soccer field. Some moms I know better....we attend Bible study, prayer groups, or book clubs together and share more of ourselves. And some moms I know really well: we've helped each other pick up pieces of broken relationships and comforted each other through real losses.
All of them are crucial and all of them, I need. A lot.
Which is why I've chosen to take The Mom Pledge. Not that my little blog gets much traffic or many comments but I don't tolerate bullying or being mean for the sake of being mean. I don't tolerate it in my kids' school or in their behavior, I don't tolerate it in my life, and I really don't tolerate it in conversation and interactions I happen to be a part of. I like a good healthy debate and differences of opinion are welcome.
But the bottom line is respect, people. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
We moms have another choice to make. Right now. Do you want to be part of the problem, or part of the solution? Do you want to help other moms and offer advice and friendship or criticize them and make them feel worse? Do you want to help create and be part of a supportive community or a playground bully, a "mean girl"?
Play nice :)
25 February 2011
Just do it
I have been seriously absent from writing new posts lately. For the last several months, in fact. Not that I haven't had reasons, other demands on my time. And a sneaking suspicion that maybe my ramblings are only interesting to me, but I don't really want to think about that right now.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
So, I have decided, right now, tonight, to just do it. Just write something.
One of the major reasons that I have been so lax on blogging is the fact that I am in an all-out sprint to the finish line of my undergraduate degree. Today ended the eighth week in a ten-week quarter. I have two weeks of classes, then finals, and then.....nothing. Till graduation in June. Nothing. Well, nothing but big decisions to make about what I am going to do next.
In an act of blind faith, I recently bought study guides for the GRE (grad school test) and the LSAT (law school test). I say "blind faith," because that's the kind of faith that I have, that I will know what to do, when the time comes. I've gotten quite comfortable up here on the fence, and the view on the grad school side looks a lot like the view on the law school side. A lot more school, more papers, and ideally, something at the end of the road to show for my hard work.
But I also have this new option to consider, that I hadn't really thought about until very recently. Maybe I won't go back to school at all. Maybe I'll continue doing what I'm doing right now: working part time for my Reserve unit, writing history. And I'll be an active engaged mom, instead of the frazzled, always-running-late-for-school-pickup mess that I have become. I am eternally grateful to have a supportive spouse in Captain America, who picks up way more than his fair share of my slack. When he's home. He does laundry, he drops off and picks up and chats with the moms at least as well (probably better than!) as I do. He does dishes, and he manages the busy social lives and practice schedules of Moe, Larry and Curly. And boy, am I ever grateful.
But last weekend, I had a little moment where I questioned myself, an epiphany of sorts. When the boys come looking for me (which happens less and less often these days), they come to the computer first. Mostly, they look for dad. But if he's not home, they have no choice. And it bums me out immensely that they have internalized that I'm generally too busy working on schoolwork to deal with their requests for snacks or their arguments, or just to help with their vocabulary homework (if it's math and dad's not home, they're really out of luck).
I get that it's important for me to do something that means something to me, whether it's work, or school, or a hobby; a pursuit that feeds my soul, and fulfills me in some way. I have said 'yes' to many of these things: I work part-time, I write freelance, I volunteer frequently at the dudes' school, I teach preschool PSR (parish school of religion), I go to school myself, I am part of a mother's prayer group, I have joined a book club, I help coordinate and put on Vacation Bible School in the summer. And I have a family that needs me to be present, and friends I want to spend time with...you see where I'm going with this.
It's a familiar refrain...learning to say 'no.' We women are helpers and nurturers by nature, and it's difficult to say 'no' to someone who is asking for help. I think maybe it's more of an issue of learning to say 'yes' to the right things, and concentrating on giving your best to those. So what is it that truly feeds my soul? Where can I channel my efforts so that I can feel like they matter and they make a difference?
I'm a Libra; I can see both sides of any issue and am hopelessly wishy-washy. Hmm, maybe this law school thing isn't the best idea for me.... In any case, making a decision is often really hard for me, especially when it affects everyone else around me too. Going back to school again involves time given up with my family, and saying 'no' to some things that would make me happy.
I need to make decisions, but I'm afraid to, afraid that I'm choosing the wrong thing, or that my choice will make someone else mad, or that I'll regret the choice I make. But fear is no justification for a decision, and if I pursue something that ultimately fulfills me and makes me happy, then I'm a better person, and better mother for it.
Just do it.
21 February 2011
Exploiting My Baby
is a funny book by Teresa Strasser, that I recently read, thanks to my friends at From Left to Write.
I'll be honest....at first, I wasn't crazy about this book. I thought it looked like a Jenny-McCarthy-Belly-Laughs-esque funny look at the hormonal train wreck that pregnancy often is...the irrational fears that keep you up at night, the breathless hope of what is yet to come, the consuming impatience to meet your baby, and the abject terror of BEING SOMEONE'S MOM.
When I opened it up, I found something a little different....Teresa is blunt and in-your-face. She's snarky and she makes fun of you, right to your face. She uses salty language and there are a LOT of people in this world she wants to punch in the face. I may be one of them, in fact, having mostly enjoyed my pregnancies, but I digress.
But Teresa is also real. I understand where she's coming from, a lot of the time. The fears that she will turn into her own kid-hating mother are very real, and I get it. When you come from dysfunction and your memories of childhood don't make you smile, impending motherhood is maybe a little scarier for you than for someone who had good role models and a living, breathing example of a functioning family unit. Some girls had moms who stayed home to raise them, taught them to cook and bake, led their Girl Scout troops, and proudly took an embarrassing amount of homecoming and prom pictures. Some girls had moms who worked and taught them how to set goals and then work hard to reach them, how to prioritize what's important, how to balance different aspects of their lives, and how to make things happen. Some girls had moms who juggled all of these things and more.
And then some of us had moms who just weren't there, literally or figuratively. And that's the hardest of all, learning to be a mom when you want to be completely and totally different from the one you had.
I give Teresa credit for having the guts to put herself out there and tell her story. I have to give her credit for being scared and doing it anyway (not that she doesn't get hung up along the way, mind you). While her near-constant paranoia and plentiful ragging on other moms whose methods or manners she doesn't like sometimes get old, I was happy for her toward the end of the book when she begins to make peace with her mom.
About all those pronouncements, though. I am reminded of the ancient piece of wisdom about karma: it's a bitch.
She kind of turns into the mom that she spent her whole book making fun of. She chases the dragon, trying to make that baby smile. She goes for a day or two (or three) without showers. She packs her schedule with Mommy & Me classes. She buys every toy, swing and Baby Mozart DVD that Toys R Us can hold and she not only has whole conversations about baby poop, SHE TAKES PICTURES OF IT.
I love it.
It happens to all of us, Teresa....you're in good company. We were all scared first-time moms too, and we all thought we were going to do it better too.
I liked the book, in spite of my initial reaction. I'm glad I kept going because, although I still don't think you need to use the F word a lot to talk about wanting, carrying, birthing, loving or exploiting a baby and I don't really advocate violence so I don't see a need to punch people in the face, Teresa's book made me laugh. It made me think about how I relate to other moms. It made me grateful for my group of mom friends that I lean on, and it made me kind of wish I could bump into Teresa at the mall.
Then again, I don't know. I don't want to get punched in the face.
I'll be honest....at first, I wasn't crazy about this book. I thought it looked like a Jenny-McCarthy-Belly-Laughs-esque funny look at the hormonal train wreck that pregnancy often is...the irrational fears that keep you up at night, the breathless hope of what is yet to come, the consuming impatience to meet your baby, and the abject terror of BEING SOMEONE'S MOM.
When I opened it up, I found something a little different....Teresa is blunt and in-your-face. She's snarky and she makes fun of you, right to your face. She uses salty language and there are a LOT of people in this world she wants to punch in the face. I may be one of them, in fact, having mostly enjoyed my pregnancies, but I digress.
But Teresa is also real. I understand where she's coming from, a lot of the time. The fears that she will turn into her own kid-hating mother are very real, and I get it. When you come from dysfunction and your memories of childhood don't make you smile, impending motherhood is maybe a little scarier for you than for someone who had good role models and a living, breathing example of a functioning family unit. Some girls had moms who stayed home to raise them, taught them to cook and bake, led their Girl Scout troops, and proudly took an embarrassing amount of homecoming and prom pictures. Some girls had moms who worked and taught them how to set goals and then work hard to reach them, how to prioritize what's important, how to balance different aspects of their lives, and how to make things happen. Some girls had moms who juggled all of these things and more.
And then some of us had moms who just weren't there, literally or figuratively. And that's the hardest of all, learning to be a mom when you want to be completely and totally different from the one you had.
I give Teresa credit for having the guts to put herself out there and tell her story. I have to give her credit for being scared and doing it anyway (not that she doesn't get hung up along the way, mind you). While her near-constant paranoia and plentiful ragging on other moms whose methods or manners she doesn't like sometimes get old, I was happy for her toward the end of the book when she begins to make peace with her mom.
About all those pronouncements, though. I am reminded of the ancient piece of wisdom about karma: it's a bitch.
She kind of turns into the mom that she spent her whole book making fun of. She chases the dragon, trying to make that baby smile. She goes for a day or two (or three) without showers. She packs her schedule with Mommy & Me classes. She buys every toy, swing and Baby Mozart DVD that Toys R Us can hold and she not only has whole conversations about baby poop, SHE TAKES PICTURES OF IT.
I love it.
It happens to all of us, Teresa....you're in good company. We were all scared first-time moms too, and we all thought we were going to do it better too.
I liked the book, in spite of my initial reaction. I'm glad I kept going because, although I still don't think you need to use the F word a lot to talk about wanting, carrying, birthing, loving or exploiting a baby and I don't really advocate violence so I don't see a need to punch people in the face, Teresa's book made me laugh. It made me think about how I relate to other moms. It made me grateful for my group of mom friends that I lean on, and it made me kind of wish I could bump into Teresa at the mall.
Then again, I don't know. I don't want to get punched in the face.
16 December 2010
Blocked
I have come here to post, to write, to ramble, and I find that I can't. Over and over, I have started to write something and before I can string together a couple of coherent sentences, I just throw up my hands and hit 'delete.'
I always have something to say. I always have an opinion on things. I always want to write, too.
But, just lately, I find that I can't. And it bugs me. Like, really bugs me.
I've never had writer's block before. I've never wanted to write, and found that I couldn't.
So, I still haven't come up with anything good, but I'm hitting 'post' this time and not 'delete.'
To all of my readers, and you know who you are (all three or four of you!), I wish you a very safe, happy and blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
I always have something to say. I always have an opinion on things. I always want to write, too.
But, just lately, I find that I can't. And it bugs me. Like, really bugs me.
I've never had writer's block before. I've never wanted to write, and found that I couldn't.
So, I still haven't come up with anything good, but I'm hitting 'post' this time and not 'delete.'
To all of my readers, and you know who you are (all three or four of you!), I wish you a very safe, happy and blessed holiday season. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
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