The Other Side of the Look

In her essay, On the Defense, Cindy Strandvold mentioned “The Look” that people give her when she tells them she is a stay at home mom. I have given that look many times. It isn’t that I was looking down on people. Rather, it was purely a deer in the headlights reaction to a complete conversation stopper. I haven’t always been very successful at meeting new people or starting a conversation. I feel awkward and desperately grasp for more questions to ask in order to avoid that dreaded silence. As soon as the words, “I am a stay at home mom” leave someone’s mouth, I can’t think of what to say. I stand there willing my jaw to keep from going slack and hoping no one can tell that my sweat has broken the deodorant seal in my armpits. For whatever reason, I can’t think of what to ask next when someone tells me they are a stay at home mom. I stare at her and desperately try to think of what to say next… and nothing comes to me. Sure I ask about names and ages, but that is where it ends. I’ve got nothing.

Add onto that the fact that until recently I didn’t want to hear about other people’s kids, let alone be forced into an uncomfortable and impossible conversation about staying at home with kids. As much as these women may have felt I was judging them based on their choice to stay home, I felt they were looking right back at me wondering why the hell I didn’t have kids. I never viewed staying at home as a cop out or being free from the rigors of work. I was impressed that people could make that choice in a world where I had no choices. I couldn’t be a stay at home mom, because I couldn’t be a mom, period. And it killed me that some of the people I met thought that was a choice, because it wasn’t.

Finally, after several years, here I am a stay at home mom of four month old twins. There I said it, I am a stay at home mom! I’ve been telling people I am taking the year off. Maybe it will be longer and for now, my job is being a mom. It is hard to say though because I worry what is on the other side of that conversation. Will the other person feel awkward? And what if I still don’t know what to say?

Children’s Political Campaign

Ahh..the innocence of younger ones. As always my blogs will reflect my working environment because that’s where I am all the time. Yesterday a woman and 4 kids (1 boy and 3 girls) was checking out. One of the younger girls (about 7ish) noticed a display of magazines and said, “Where’s John McCain? He’s never on anything!” I couldn’t help but laugh that the presidential election would be on the radar of someone so young. So I asked her, “Who are you voting for?” She said Barack Obama. I asked her why and she said with assurance, “Because he’s nice.” In my 25 year old mind I was wondering how she got that impression. Political ads? Adult conversations? What does someone “nice” look/sound like?!? Is today’s propaganda driven towards the younger generations to get an “easy vote”? Not that a 7 year old can vote- but it certainly gets them talking-and other people thinking. I’d also like to state that her older brother was voting for McCain…because his sister wasn’t! I have always said that I love kids because up to a certain age they really don’t know the meaning of bias. They just make a decision and have a really basic reason as to why. As we get older do we complicate the simple things? Thinking back to the first election I can remember (George Bush senior) I remember making a poster that scribbled–I am voting for George Bush because he reminds me of my grandpa–. Now, many years later I am basing my vote on the issues of the present and future. Here is the million dollar question…If you counted the votes from adults versus children, would the result be the same? Have the younger generations figured out a quick way to politics? Here is an exercise. Let’s ask all the children/mothers/daughters/sisters of get born readers the following questions and post them. I understand that politics is a sticky situation for adults. So please respond with whatever you are comfortable with. It will be interesting to see the differences in the generations!

1. What is the presidential election?

2. Who are you voting for and why?

3. What is the presidents job? (this could be funny)

Happy Campaigning!

Here are the answers from my friends son Caleb who is 6 years old.

1. ummmm….

2. John….because it’s my uncles name

3. to sign stuff

My answers

1. to decide the president of the United States

2. I still have no idea.

3. To keep the peace, make policy and convince the rest of the world to keep the peace and policy.

My Mom’s answers

1. what you said (lol great answer mom!)

2. I knew asking this would be funny- she has never told anyone who she has voted for- including my father. (even after decades of marriage!)

3. umm..listen to the people and run the country

My sisters answers (who is in college)

1. same as you

2. obama- because my sisters (greek) are…

3. A lot…

Pondering profanity

I’ve been pondering the pros and cons of using profanity the past few days as my tweens use every opportunity to exclaim, “we just drove past the dam store”, and “did you know our neighbor has a new ass?”  There is an exhileration to technically obeying the rules of “no cuss words,”  while still SOUNDING like you’re saying them.   Being a more enlightened parent than my parents (aren’t we all , I’ve actually discussed the meaning of cuss words with my kids–basically three vulgar categories, poop-related, sex-related, and the body parts that pertain to poop and sex.  Well, there is the fourth category, the “profane” relating to God and his eternal judgments, which doesn’t have quite the “ew” factor for the kids.

I’ve told them that these culturally designated “taboo” words are considered shocking and offensive, and that if you have a good vocabulary, there is no need to use them.  But part of me acknowledges the unique power these words have, and I wonder why I care whether my children use them or not (as long as it’s not in front of the grandparents). 

I realize that with my upbringing, I will never be comfortable routinely swearing, but I’ve become less shocked and judgmental about those who do as I’ve aged and recognized that it is only my reaction that gives these words power.  Maybe I should be teaching my children that these words are to be reserved for the special occasions where they are particularly accurate, and where the decibal level needs to be higher than their tamer synonyms can convey.  Because I wonder if I do my children a disservice in teaching them to avoid offending people–I know from personal experience that sometimes it is right to challenge others, even if it does offend them. 

So, to swear, or not to swear–that is the question?

Forgiveness

August 31, 2008 by mamabop

I hadn’t even finished the first paragraph of Kim Spencer’s “Hanging in My Closet” before I knew this was the essay I was going to be blogging about. My entire preteen-to-teen existence, one long therapy session that it was, flashed before my eyes, and I finally had the breakthrough that my therapists had been working toward all those years.

For me it began at the ripe young age of 12. All of my childhood anger towards my mother came to a boiling point when she confessed her affair to my dad and promptly divorced him. Being the independent oldest child that I was, I packed my bags and moved out with him. And that’s how it all began. Four years of Thursdays wasted in my opinion, with one counseling session after another.

The divorce I got over within the first year. Then there was my new stepdad, my developing drug problem, and the fact that I was a 15-year-old high school dropout living in my own studio apartment and basically doing whatever I pleased. I was the case study all seven of my therapists had always dreamed of.

I generally glared out the window during those sessions and refused to speak as the therapist stared helplessly at me and my mom sobbed. I hated her. She was so weak. All she wanted was pity; for someone to tell her it wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t going to get that from me.

And so it went. Finally, after I didn’t show up for Christmas one year, she gave up on counseling, and we didn’t speak for a full year. Basically parentless, I continued down my path, doing whatever I felt like and still blaming my mom for the way my crappy life had turned out.

It wasn’t until I reached adulthood that I started to straighten out my life, sobering up and enrolling in the local community college. I slowly began talking to my mom again, and by pushing all the pain out of our minds, although not our hearts, we patched things up.

Now I am a young mom myself. I have a wonderful husband and little girl who means everything to me and my mom is a loving and enthusiastic grandma. Although I haven’t yet been through many struggles of parenthood with my 10-month old, I know they are coming. My mom still cries sometimes, not because of what I’ve done or said, but because she is a woman, she has emotions, and because she lives and breathes. And now I love her for it. Because I cry too, for my daughter who I love so much and who will one day, I’m sure of it, break my heart, and for my mom, because once I broke hers.

There have been times when I’ve sat wondering what it was that kept my mom insisting on those counseling sessions all those years, getting nowhere. Why she never gave up on me and why she took me back without even a lecture when I finally picked up the phone and brought her back into my life. Now I know. She, too, had a Wonder Woman suit. All of us moms do. We wear it because we love our children, because they are part of us and no matter how badly they crush our hearts, we will always be here for them when they come back home.

Once I thought my mother was weak, but I was wrong. Every decision we make as moms takes strength. Sometimes the hardest one of all is the decision to let our children choose their own paths, and trust that we have instilled them with the wisdom to choose the right one.

“Special Ed Mom”

After reading “Special Ed Mom” in the Summer ‘08 Get Born magazine I found my heart aching for this very ’special’ mom. I wanted to reach across the miles and give her a tight fierce hug. Her story touched me in many ways. As someone who worked with mentally challenged adults for 14 years I understood her sometimes desire for a more ‘normal’ child and barring that at least a child who appeared disabled so the world would accept his differences more readily – the reaction to someone with Down Syndrome is often more lenient than that to a child with autism – ‘Why doesn’t that mother just make him stop that tantrum!”.

I also felt for her worry that she didn’t ‘do all kinds of research on her son’s condition, institute behavioral programs, write books, blog, or learn enough to be precise and absolutely sure’. I’ve known those parents (and must admit have tendencies in that direction myself ) and I’ve seen how their drive to perhaps ‘cure’ or ‘fix’ can mask a feeling of failure – ‘Maybe I did something to cause this” – and can become so all consuming that there is little time to just be present with their child and love him.

When the author, Marcy Neth, says, “So I keep bringing him and worrying about him and wondering if I’m wrecking him in the long run.” she expresses the fear of every parent. Every decision we make every day – to spank or not to spank; to shield from risque movies/topics or permit and engage in dialogue about it; to trust the keys to our 16 year old on prom night or wait outside in the family van – we don’t know for perhaps years and years whether we have made the right choices. But I can say this, that no one, not the team of therapists, teachers or doctors will ever fill her role as mother – baker of cookies, knitter of sweaters, worrier of the future, dispenser of unconditional love.

Marcy Neth, take your son under your strong wing and know that his life is much enriched by his “Special Ed Mom’.

Back to school – no, I do not miss my 6 year old

Shayel - my oldest - on her first day of kindie

“And how are you doing?”

This was the question posed to me by our sweet and infinitely competent school secretary when we were talking about my oldest and her transition from half-day kindie to full-day first grade.

I just raised an eyebrow, shrugged with non committal nonchalance and said “eh, doesn’t matter to me”.

She gave a little nervous chuckle and finished filling out the receipt for the lunch money I had just handed over to her – the lunch money I had given her, for the record, because I have no interest in making my child’s lunches and as long as we have the money, I will rely on her school to provide her with whatever sloppy muck they have in the cafeteria that day.

This is not the first time I’ve felt a bit like an ogre when responding to questions about how I feel regarding my children going off to school. Don’t get me wrong, I get along well with my girls so far (you better believe I relish every moment of prepubescent ease), they don’t fight too much with each other, I have ignored them enough that they play independently and we pretty much stay out of each other’s way. But that doesn’t mean I don’t rejoice a little when it’s time to leave them with another adult…an adult who is paid by the state to educate them! God bless the USA!

However, as nice as it is for my oldest to go to school, in many ways it’s not helpful. That’s the other comment I get, “oh, it must be nice just having one at home now”. Yeah, except that now my youngest doesn’t have a big sister to entertain her.

Back to school time brings back all the comments and questions that make me feel like a pariah in the middle-upper class, highly educated, ethnically diverse world that is my neighborhood school. It also brings the expectations – PTO, bake sales, fundraisers that make me throw up a little in my mouth, classroom volunteering… and the worst – after school pick up chit chat. Oh how I loathe after school pick up chit chat. Thanks to God Almighty for ipods with headphones and knitting projects.

Welcome back to school moms! I raise my martini to you in salute and leave you with this benediction: May you rise above the school room din and stand tall as an uninvolved parent (well, except maybe for those bakesales, cupcake frosting is damn tasty).

Fresh Perspectives

Hello Everyone!

To start my part of the blog is an excerpt from an email I sent to Heather, which she was so tickled with she asked me to post it word for word.  Some history:  I work at Barnes & Noble and observe lots of moms with kids.

…yesterday every single kid that came into the store was screaming- not crying-just screaming. One mother with one of those huge strollers that holds like 3 kids, 10 drinks, coolers etc. came to check out. In her cup holder she had a venti iced coffee of some kind and all three kids were screaming.  My thought was…if I had three screaming kids, coffee wouldn’t do it..I would want a bottle of vodka in my cupholder..hehe (not that I would drink and watch kids) But with all those features on the strollers to keep the kids entertained, where are the features for the tired moms?

…part two:

Anyways…you have a new fan. I was working in the newsstand and asked a woman if she needed help finding anything. She said “This is strange but I need a magazine on parenting where the family does not look like this (and she pointed to the perfectly dressed smiling family of four on another magazine).” Then she went on to describe how her family photos are put together (photoshopped) one smiling kid at a time. She said that she needed “a real magazine- because these people (the perfect family) are either on happy pills or being bribed with brownies to pose like that” lol. I showed her yours and she laughed so hard she almost cried. I told her to try that one. About an hour and a half later she was checking out with me..bought your magazine…and said that she would be reading it weekly until the next one came out “for sanity in knowing that other mothers were having the same thoughts as her.” I guess she was reading it over her coffee!

Top Ten True Confessions of Stephanie Rayburn; Wellington, CO

1.  I often respond to my son’s whining with an exasperated, “What?!!”

2.  A common lunchtime for my child involves microwaved fish-sticks or chicken nuggets drowned in ketchup, some macaroni and cheese, and maybe a pile of blueberries or some other fruit to counter the nutritional value of the rest of it.  Frozen peas if he’s up for it.  And to think in the beginning I made all his food from scratch and it mostly consisted of pureed organic vegetables. . . I hardly have the motivation to continue with long preparations of foods that will mostly likely end up on the floor and in the bellies of the dogs rather than actually making it into my son’s mouth.  Plus, he’s so skinny.  I’m tempted to give him a pat of butter on the side with every meal.

3.  The only reason I continue to shave my armpits and legs is because my husband has made it clear that it is a requirement for the continuation of our marriage.

4.  I often come up with an excuse as to why we can’t go play outside right now . . . it’s too hot, too cold, too windy, you can smell the dairy cows, or just plain, “I don’t want to.”

5.  I often break down into tears for a few seconds here or there when I think no-one is looking.

6.  I have come to feel so bogged down by the monotony of being home all day with a toddler that I often find myself approaching my days with lethargy tinged with irritation at being asked to read Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham for the 5th time that day.

7.   I had to stop pretending that I couldn’t hear my son when he woke up from his nap in order to get another 15 minutes or so to myself when he feel out onto his head in an attempt to get out on his own.  He will still wait a few minutes for me to show up and get him out now.

8.  I am heading back to work part-time and am looking forward to taking my son to daycare far more than I feel like I should be.  Sometimes I fantasize about going back to work full-time and putting him into daycare for 8 or 9 hours a day and then only being responsible for dinner and a little play-time before putting him to bed.  Then I think about how guilty that would make me feel, and I then feel guilty for even thinking about doing it in the first place.

9.  At my son’s current stage of toddler-hood, I find myself thinking more and more often that I may only have one child.

10.  During my days at home I avoid doing any unnecessary housework because I feel that taking responsibility for doing all the laundry and vacuuming and bathroom cleaning on a more regular basis might be the thing that just drives me over the edge into insanity.  I make my husband do his own laundry, and we clean together on the weekends, despite the fact that I have ample time to do it during the week while he is at work.

Another Top Ten True Confessions

1. I would rather read my blog rolls than play with my boys – most days.
2. My son is having a hard time understanding that he’s not suppose to wet his pants at night. I blame myself. I would rather stay in bed ½ hour longer than get up when I hear him, in order to rush him to the potty. (He’s only 2, so I guess I still have time.)
3. On more days than most, I let the boys watch TV in the morning just so I can get my work done around the house.
4. My husband works hard at work 5 days a week, 10 – 11 hour days, and I hate it when, on occasion, he doesn’t want to give the boys a bath and I do.
5. My kitchen floor is lucky if it gets cleaned once a month.
6. Sometimes, I like to make my kids cry.
7. We have two happy and healthy boys, but I really want our third to be a girl. We are currently trying.
8. No sooner do I get up in the morning then I’m counting down the hours till nap time.
9. Sometimes, I stay up WAY past my bedtime just so I can be alone, but then I’m cranky in the morning with the kids.
10. I think a lot about my life before I had kids and I sometimes long for those days, but I wouldn’t give up my worst day with them to have even one day without them.

From Miss Jack: http://www.missjackofalltrades.blogspot.com/

End of Summer Blues

This is the last week before school starts again, and I should be singing that song “It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” but I’m dealing with the “summer goals” guilt. What happened to all those educational things I was going to do with my kids this summer? The daily homework pages to keep up their math and writing skills? The many books we were going to read together? The cooking lessons I was going to give them (LOL, the world’s worst cook teaching her children)? The stargazing we were going to do, followed up by reading the mythology behind the constellations? The daily walks we were going to take to exercise both us and the dogs? The artistic moments we were going to spend sketching together (which is at least more up my alley than cooking)?

Truth to be told we did a couple of those things a couple of times–but we never reached that magic threshhold that makes them habitual. The kids logged far more time on Runescape than I intended them to, because when push comes to shove, when it was 95 degrees plus outside, I couldn’t think of anything better for them to do…especially when I wanted to sneak in a nap. Okay, my goals were probably a little too ambitious. So, can I count it as a success that we read “Ranger’s Apprentice”, baked cookies one afternoon, and walked the dogs an average of once a week? Does watching the movie “School of Rock” count as educational fare? How do I know what grade we earned for this summer?

I guess I’ll find out in the next week, when my kids do their annual “What I did on my summer vacation” essay. Or maybe the grade will come 10 years from now, when we reminisce around the dinner table and one of them says, “do you remember the summer when…?”