This is a follow up to my previous post, about how life before kids was easier emotionally. Life always has challenges and no matter how much we plan. We can't control everything and things will not always go as we would like them to. I try to remind myself of my bell-shaped stress management theory.
Basically the theory is: all of the anxiety and stress in our lives falls somewhere on a bell-shaped curve. No matter how great and on track life is, there will always be something out there on the far end of that curve pushing our buttons and making us crazy. Most everything else will fall into the fat middle section of the curve, and then there will be a couple of things that really don't give us much grief at the other end.
I think that this theory holds true for the most part. But I find that the more I delve into my personal struggle with finding a balance between parenting and career and marriage and family and chores and pets, the more I slip down the spiral slide towards more struggle. Part of this spouting I think it very useful because it forces me to fess up to my inner struggle and makes me confront those inner-most, private places of my life.
However, kneading this internal conflict also has a down side. The more I examine, stew, and swish those bits around in my thoughts, the more I'm surrounding myself with them. Then they swell, becoming more prevalent because I'm trying to think about them, understand them, and find new ways to write about them. So while this struggle should be mostly manageable in the bulky part of the stress curve, it's getting unnaturally pushed out into that far end of the curve, making me crazy sometimes.
"(I)t's funny these feelings. they're just feelings. and you have them sometimes. and you have other types of feelings other times," wrote Swamps into response to my emotional confession. "(S)ometimes you are just feeling like life is shit, and then suddenly something happens -- a friend calls out of the blue, or some stranger pays you a random compliment, or you help an old lady thru a tricky situation -- and that feeling just disappears. gone."
She's right. Something distracts me from the constant internal magnification and poof, there is life going on around me. Good life. Good experiences. Good relationships.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
It's official: We're outnumbered
My playgroup has officially tipped the scales towards the pregnant members. There are nine moms/nine kids, and now five of the nine moms are pregnant with their second baby.
But that's not all. Of the four non-pregnant members: one mom is getting ready to sign a contract with a organization that connects infertile couples with surrogate mothers, one mom recently miscarried and is hoping to get pregnant again soon, another non-pregnant mom just accepted a new job--and she was grinning ear to ear about it today. That leaves me. I recently decided to put off having another baby for a while; you really can't go out dancing when you've got a balloon belly knocking you off balance.
So there are two issues here: first, I'll be the only mom left in this group who isn't pregnant or actively trying to expand my family; and second, my thoughts about Portfolio Manager Mom heading back to work are mixed. (For full disclosure purposes, I'm in two playgroups with Toddler in Chief. In the other playgroup, two moms have had second babies and the rest are decidely not pregnant).
But first things first, I found out about two of the pregnancies today and the other two, just 14 days ago. That is a lot to digest during a short amount of time. Why is everyone ready to do it again? Our kids are just turning two, and I suppose it's the standard 2 1/2- to 3-year spread in age. So what am I really upset about? Me, of course! I'm not ready, but I already feel the pressure, even though no one has said, "When are you going to have another?"
I really like going out again. My kid just weaned in January, so my body is my own. I can drink and abuse it as much as I like without affecting another person. My kid sleeps 12 hours at night, so I also sleep all night. I like my clothes. I was one of those moms who didn't want to spend hundreds of dollars on clothes that I would only wear for a couple of months. That is, until I felt hideously frumpy and hormones were seeping from the walls. I broke down and bought one pair of cute jeans, a sexy Michael Starrs low cut, snug sparkly blue shirt, one oatmeal-colored turtle neck sweater, and two white fitted T-shirts. Someone did give me a frilly blue flowered shirt as well, but my belly always hung out the bottom.
But perhaps what is eating at me more than feeling silently pressured to get pregnant again, maybe all my stress is over Portfolio Manager Mom's onramp back into the workforce. While she was all smiles, we really didn't talk about how this means she's departing from our weekly gatherings. My feelings about her success are mixed. Part of me is a tiny bit jealous that she had the courage to do it. Another part of me says, you go girl. Another part of me feels like she is a traitor, leaving us at-home moms to struggle with ourselves.
But as I looked around, no one really seemed like they were struggling. Perhaps because every other woman there is gearing up for morning sickness, frumpy clothing, and more sleepless nights, they've come to terms with their current parenting status. Their new-found pregnancies or infant via surrogate has shifted their to focus to what it will be like to have two babies demanding their attentions instead of just one toddler. With a sly smile, Stanford Staffer Mom said, "I'm glad I'm not going back to work."
For me, I'm not so sure.
But that's not all. Of the four non-pregnant members: one mom is getting ready to sign a contract with a organization that connects infertile couples with surrogate mothers, one mom recently miscarried and is hoping to get pregnant again soon, another non-pregnant mom just accepted a new job--and she was grinning ear to ear about it today. That leaves me. I recently decided to put off having another baby for a while; you really can't go out dancing when you've got a balloon belly knocking you off balance.
So there are two issues here: first, I'll be the only mom left in this group who isn't pregnant or actively trying to expand my family; and second, my thoughts about Portfolio Manager Mom heading back to work are mixed. (For full disclosure purposes, I'm in two playgroups with Toddler in Chief. In the other playgroup, two moms have had second babies and the rest are decidely not pregnant).
But first things first, I found out about two of the pregnancies today and the other two, just 14 days ago. That is a lot to digest during a short amount of time. Why is everyone ready to do it again? Our kids are just turning two, and I suppose it's the standard 2 1/2- to 3-year spread in age. So what am I really upset about? Me, of course! I'm not ready, but I already feel the pressure, even though no one has said, "When are you going to have another?"
I really like going out again. My kid just weaned in January, so my body is my own. I can drink and abuse it as much as I like without affecting another person. My kid sleeps 12 hours at night, so I also sleep all night. I like my clothes. I was one of those moms who didn't want to spend hundreds of dollars on clothes that I would only wear for a couple of months. That is, until I felt hideously frumpy and hormones were seeping from the walls. I broke down and bought one pair of cute jeans, a sexy Michael Starrs low cut, snug sparkly blue shirt, one oatmeal-colored turtle neck sweater, and two white fitted T-shirts. Someone did give me a frilly blue flowered shirt as well, but my belly always hung out the bottom.
But perhaps what is eating at me more than feeling silently pressured to get pregnant again, maybe all my stress is over Portfolio Manager Mom's onramp back into the workforce. While she was all smiles, we really didn't talk about how this means she's departing from our weekly gatherings. My feelings about her success are mixed. Part of me is a tiny bit jealous that she had the courage to do it. Another part of me says, you go girl. Another part of me feels like she is a traitor, leaving us at-home moms to struggle with ourselves.
But as I looked around, no one really seemed like they were struggling. Perhaps because every other woman there is gearing up for morning sickness, frumpy clothing, and more sleepless nights, they've come to terms with their current parenting status. Their new-found pregnancies or infant via surrogate has shifted their to focus to what it will be like to have two babies demanding their attentions instead of just one toddler. With a sly smile, Stanford Staffer Mom said, "I'm glad I'm not going back to work."
For me, I'm not so sure.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Emotionally, life before kids was easier: a MIC confession
A little time out with friends has been good and bad. It has made me so happy that I am able to get out and enjoy the simple pleasure of time away from Toddler in Chief, but it also makes me wonder about underlying problems with parenting, or more specifically, with me.
So much of the day I set R down. I know that this good for him because it fosters independence. I know it's good for me because I can attend to the domestic duties associated with being a parent and a home-owner. I do wish I could just let a lot of this internal struggle go, but I think I will carry it as long as parenting is my largest priority and seven-day-a-week job, regardless of whether or not I'm working elsewhere.
Mostly it just makes me question if I'm really supposed to be a parent in the first place? Why do I always want to set Riley down to do other stuff? Isn't the whole idea of parenting supposed to be a sacrifice? Give up your job, give up your free-time, give up other pleasures in life so that we can focus on this huge responsibility, which is also a pleasure and privilege?
Maybe some of this stems from the fact that we chose to have a kid? It was all planned. We did it on purpose. And I expected things need to fall into some order. We planned our life and chose our path, but still it didn't take us where we thought it would. Ann over at the The Mother all Blogs posted a link to a wonderful story called Welcome to Holland, that sort of explains what it's like to be launched in a totally different direction than what you expected when you become a parent. Surgeries, extended hospital stays, lots of doctor appointments: those are things that I cannot control. Chores and to-do lists: those are supposed to be the things I can control.
Mostly I just feel sad sometimes because I ache for a simpler time of life. It's hard to think that working and commuting and deadlines were simpler times. When that was my reality, those were stressful times and I ached for parenthood, which seemed simpler. But now that I'm in "Holland," I think back to when I was working, and it seems like it was piece of cake. I'm sure countless hours of therapy will come to this conclusion: I like going out with friends or fanaticizing about a carefree, 40-hour-work week because I'm temporarily removed from my fucked up life as a parent of a child with a life-threatening heart defect.
Emotionally, psychologically, life before kids was simpler.
Parenting for a living is much more psychologically and emotionally challenging. Sometimes I want to pull my hair out; sometimes I want to cry; and sometimes and I just want to take the damn dogs for a walk without carting a toddler along. Yes, I've come to terms with Toddler in Chief's condition. Yes, I've mourned the life that I thought he would have, and the life as a parent I thought I would have.
And then there's that guilt again. Considering all the garbage we've dealt with, shouldn't I be more than happy to sit and play with blocks, just thankful that my kid is here for me to play with? Shouldn't I be grateful for every minute, that I just want to soak up as much of my kid as I can? Instead of looking for escape routes, shouldn't I be focused on the road directly in front of me?
So I'm sure I'll my ranting and raving about the struggle for finding a balance for work and time out with friends and family and marriage is just my way to look for an escape from my life. Period.
So much of the day I set R down. I know that this good for him because it fosters independence. I know it's good for me because I can attend to the domestic duties associated with being a parent and a home-owner. I do wish I could just let a lot of this internal struggle go, but I think I will carry it as long as parenting is my largest priority and seven-day-a-week job, regardless of whether or not I'm working elsewhere.
Mostly it just makes me question if I'm really supposed to be a parent in the first place? Why do I always want to set Riley down to do other stuff? Isn't the whole idea of parenting supposed to be a sacrifice? Give up your job, give up your free-time, give up other pleasures in life so that we can focus on this huge responsibility, which is also a pleasure and privilege?
Maybe some of this stems from the fact that we chose to have a kid? It was all planned. We did it on purpose. And I expected things need to fall into some order. We planned our life and chose our path, but still it didn't take us where we thought it would. Ann over at the The Mother all Blogs posted a link to a wonderful story called Welcome to Holland, that sort of explains what it's like to be launched in a totally different direction than what you expected when you become a parent. Surgeries, extended hospital stays, lots of doctor appointments: those are things that I cannot control. Chores and to-do lists: those are supposed to be the things I can control.
Mostly I just feel sad sometimes because I ache for a simpler time of life. It's hard to think that working and commuting and deadlines were simpler times. When that was my reality, those were stressful times and I ached for parenthood, which seemed simpler. But now that I'm in "Holland," I think back to when I was working, and it seems like it was piece of cake. I'm sure countless hours of therapy will come to this conclusion: I like going out with friends or fanaticizing about a carefree, 40-hour-work week because I'm temporarily removed from my fucked up life as a parent of a child with a life-threatening heart defect.
Emotionally, psychologically, life before kids was simpler.
Parenting for a living is much more psychologically and emotionally challenging. Sometimes I want to pull my hair out; sometimes I want to cry; and sometimes and I just want to take the damn dogs for a walk without carting a toddler along. Yes, I've come to terms with Toddler in Chief's condition. Yes, I've mourned the life that I thought he would have, and the life as a parent I thought I would have.
And then there's that guilt again. Considering all the garbage we've dealt with, shouldn't I be more than happy to sit and play with blocks, just thankful that my kid is here for me to play with? Shouldn't I be grateful for every minute, that I just want to soak up as much of my kid as I can? Instead of looking for escape routes, shouldn't I be focused on the road directly in front of me?
So I'm sure I'll my ranting and raving about the struggle for finding a balance for work and time out with friends and family and marriage is just my way to look for an escape from my life. Period.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
A much needed break, or how I learned to dance
Friday night at the Little Fox Theatre was sheer bliss. That is, it was sheer bliss after I got over the anxiety attached to being responsible for the turnout success of Notorious, the 80s band that I'm addicted to seeing.
So truth be told, I really wasn't really responsible for the turn-out, but I was feeling accountable because I supposedly told them that I can get hundreds of moms to come out and pack the venue. Father in Chief says that I promised this crowd to the band during one encounter in San Francisco a couple of months ago after I sucked down two Long Island Ice Teas.
Anyway, they were in Redwood City, per my many requests, and I wanted it to be a success. While I did not produce a flock of 100 moms, I did manage to get 13 dancing fans into the club and onto the dance floor within a few bars of the first song. Our enthusiasm, along with the other 75 enthusiast attendees made the show a success, in my opinion. Pictures will soon be available on the band's web site, which I will post here.
Father in Chief had to sit out much of the second set after hurting his back during some aerobic dance moves.
As my shoes slid across the floor, I wondered where I learned to dance. My mother is a belly dance instructor and I definitely know how to shimmy my shoulders and hips, which I probably learned by osmosis. But mostly I learned how to dance by watching Molly Ringwald in the 1985, brat-pack hit The Breakfast Club. Arms flailing. Head bobbing. Bouncing and shifting side to side.
It's seems to have served me well during the years. I doubt I will ever really dance much differently than I dance now. That worries me a bit. When I was back east, I was out one night with my Dad. There was live music, and a woman was getting down on the dance floor, literally and figuratively. Knees bent. Arms stiff. Almost convulsions. It was not a pretty sight. I worry that this will be me in 20 years (yes, I plan to still be out there shaking my groove thing--probably to 80s music). I don't think I'll look like this woman, somehow morphing my dance into her dance. But rather, I imagine that my dance will be dated, much in the same way this woman's dance moves were dated.
As long as were out there having fun.
So truth be told, I really wasn't really responsible for the turn-out, but I was feeling accountable because I supposedly told them that I can get hundreds of moms to come out and pack the venue. Father in Chief says that I promised this crowd to the band during one encounter in San Francisco a couple of months ago after I sucked down two Long Island Ice Teas.
Anyway, they were in Redwood City, per my many requests, and I wanted it to be a success. While I did not produce a flock of 100 moms, I did manage to get 13 dancing fans into the club and onto the dance floor within a few bars of the first song. Our enthusiasm, along with the other 75 enthusiast attendees made the show a success, in my opinion. Pictures will soon be available on the band's web site, which I will post here.
Father in Chief had to sit out much of the second set after hurting his back during some aerobic dance moves.
As my shoes slid across the floor, I wondered where I learned to dance. My mother is a belly dance instructor and I definitely know how to shimmy my shoulders and hips, which I probably learned by osmosis. But mostly I learned how to dance by watching Molly Ringwald in the 1985, brat-pack hit The Breakfast Club. Arms flailing. Head bobbing. Bouncing and shifting side to side.
It's seems to have served me well during the years. I doubt I will ever really dance much differently than I dance now. That worries me a bit. When I was back east, I was out one night with my Dad. There was live music, and a woman was getting down on the dance floor, literally and figuratively. Knees bent. Arms stiff. Almost convulsions. It was not a pretty sight. I worry that this will be me in 20 years (yes, I plan to still be out there shaking my groove thing--probably to 80s music). I don't think I'll look like this woman, somehow morphing my dance into her dance. But rather, I imagine that my dance will be dated, much in the same way this woman's dance moves were dated.
As long as were out there having fun.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
Mud slinging at pregnant in SF
Changes are imminent within the San Francisco Department of Building Inspections. Voicing their opposition to any change, a local builders' association participated in a verbal joust in San Francisco City Hall on Monday. The result: mud-slinging of sexually discriminating and reprehensible comments aimed at the probable replacement, who is pregnant.
James Hutchinson, who is the acting director of the Department of Building Inspection, is expected to be voted out. Amy Lee, the assistant director of the Department of Building Inspections, is the expected replacement.
During the meeting, president of the builders' association Joe O'Donoghue said that Lee is unqualified because she is pregnant with her third baby due in August.
It is unclear why no one on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors attempted to halt O'Donoghue's discriminatory comments.
While O'Donoghue contends that the comments were never made, or that they were taken out of context, San Francisco Chronicle columnist Joan Ryan today came to the rescue. She listened to the transcript tape of the meeting and this is what she heard from members of the builders' association:
"If you appoint her, she cannot function as you intend. Given that she is about to go on maternity leave, she cannot function at any capacity whatsoever. That is a reality."
"My wife refers to it as 'pregnancy brain.' Her mind is on other things. I ask you today, are you going to replace this man with 'pregnancy brain'?"
"That's not disrespect. That's just a metaphor. But when you have a baby, that's all the hormones are about. I'm just making the point."
"The facts are I was there when my kids were born. I know what goes on. You don't have to be a woman to understand. Amy is going to have to take some medical leave. What's going to happen then?"
Lee has worked in the building department for six years. She took a three-month maternity leave and a four-month maternity leave when her first two children were born. "O'Donoghue supported her hiring for the No. 2 position during one of those pregnancies, and he knows she kept in regular contact and even attended meetings while on leave," Ryan wrote. "Yet now that she is slated to replace someone O'Donoghue especially likes, the pregnancy and brief maternity leave are a problem."
Someone really needs to update the members of this builders' association on the employment laws that protect women from discriminating pricks like them.
James Hutchinson, who is the acting director of the Department of Building Inspection, is expected to be voted out. Amy Lee, the assistant director of the Department of Building Inspections, is the expected replacement.
During the meeting, president of the builders' association Joe O'Donoghue said that Lee is unqualified because she is pregnant with her third baby due in August.
It is unclear why no one on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors attempted to halt O'Donoghue's discriminatory comments.
While O'Donoghue contends that the comments were never made, or that they were taken out of context, San Francisco Chronicle columnist Joan Ryan today came to the rescue. She listened to the transcript tape of the meeting and this is what she heard from members of the builders' association:
"If you appoint her, she cannot function as you intend. Given that she is about to go on maternity leave, she cannot function at any capacity whatsoever. That is a reality."
"My wife refers to it as 'pregnancy brain.' Her mind is on other things. I ask you today, are you going to replace this man with 'pregnancy brain'?"
"That's not disrespect. That's just a metaphor. But when you have a baby, that's all the hormones are about. I'm just making the point."
"The facts are I was there when my kids were born. I know what goes on. You don't have to be a woman to understand. Amy is going to have to take some medical leave. What's going to happen then?"
Lee has worked in the building department for six years. She took a three-month maternity leave and a four-month maternity leave when her first two children were born. "O'Donoghue supported her hiring for the No. 2 position during one of those pregnancies, and he knows she kept in regular contact and even attended meetings while on leave," Ryan wrote. "Yet now that she is slated to replace someone O'Donoghue especially likes, the pregnancy and brief maternity leave are a problem."
Someone really needs to update the members of this builders' association on the employment laws that protect women from discriminating pricks like them.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
I interrupt this program...
Okay, this post has everything to do with living life to the fullest and taking advantage of the small breaks we carve into of our hectic schedules to do things that are fun, for grown-ups!
And I apologize in advance to those who don't live in the Bay Area. But you shouldn't feel totally left out. Rather, be inspired to find the escape you need to be alive and in the moment, wherever you live.
For those of you who live in the Bay Area (particularly on the Peninsula), this is your chance.
Get into the Groove!!
An amazingly energetic 80s cover band called Notorious is playing at the Little Fox Theatre in Redwood City this Friday, April 8. If you want a glimpse of your former, non-parenting, single self, join me, Father in Chief, Attorney Friend, City Planner Friend, Childcare Development Friend, Therapist Friend, and others in your dance shoes to reminisce through the music you grew up with.
Here's my disclaimer: I do not personally know this band. However, I do travel great distances with friends to go see them whenever possible. The farthest trip was 80 miles north to a place in Santa Rosa. And the only thing I gain out of having a big turnout: maybe they'll play in Redwood City more often. Woo hoo!!
So grab your girlfriends, or book a babysitter and head out with your partner, and shake your groove thing.
And I apologize in advance to those who don't live in the Bay Area. But you shouldn't feel totally left out. Rather, be inspired to find the escape you need to be alive and in the moment, wherever you live.
For those of you who live in the Bay Area (particularly on the Peninsula), this is your chance.
Get into the Groove!!
An amazingly energetic 80s cover band called Notorious is playing at the Little Fox Theatre in Redwood City this Friday, April 8. If you want a glimpse of your former, non-parenting, single self, join me, Father in Chief, Attorney Friend, City Planner Friend, Childcare Development Friend, Therapist Friend, and others in your dance shoes to reminisce through the music you grew up with.
Here's my disclaimer: I do not personally know this band. However, I do travel great distances with friends to go see them whenever possible. The farthest trip was 80 miles north to a place in Santa Rosa. And the only thing I gain out of having a big turnout: maybe they'll play in Redwood City more often. Woo hoo!!
So grab your girlfriends, or book a babysitter and head out with your partner, and shake your groove thing.
There are no winners
There is no winner when moms who work argue with moms who don't work. Aren't all moms, or at-home parents for that matter, on the same side of the fence? Everyone gets to make choices, for better and for worse.
In my previous post where I feel like I'm falling into some sort of lose-lose parenting trap, I said something that just can't be left without further lamenting: "Maybe working moms spend more quality time with their kids because they long to be with their kids all day?"
I definitely don't know the answer to that question, but it got me thinking. Since most of my chums are at-home moms, I really don't have a ton of perspective on the working-mom experience. So thankfully there have been some very informative pieces out there recently on what it's like to work, out of financial, emotional, or intellectual necessity.
Working mom fesses up
Bethany over at Writing Mommy had a great post called, "Confessions of a Working Mother" on Monday about her transition from working-at-home mom to working-at-an-office mom and how it comes together for her.
Sometimes there is no choice
Tertia is heading back to work in a couple of weeks and she's struggling with it. She is not trying to point fingers at moms who work or moms who stay home. She's just venting a bit and I think it's a really intersecting perspective. For her, going back to work in South Africa is simply a vehicle to provide her kids with a safe place to live and a shot at a better education. It's not about a meaningful career. It's about money. (Thanks to Half Changed World for pointing me to it)
The topic of being able to stay home when you have kids versus having to go back to work and put the kids in daycare is a hefty one that plagues some of my friends who don't even have kids yet. In a recent email, Paralegal Friend said personal finances would probably send her kids to daycare. That likelihood could be a deterrent from having kids in the first place.
In my previous post where I feel like I'm falling into some sort of lose-lose parenting trap, I said something that just can't be left without further lamenting: "Maybe working moms spend more quality time with their kids because they long to be with their kids all day?"
I definitely don't know the answer to that question, but it got me thinking. Since most of my chums are at-home moms, I really don't have a ton of perspective on the working-mom experience. So thankfully there have been some very informative pieces out there recently on what it's like to work, out of financial, emotional, or intellectual necessity.
Working mom fesses up
Bethany over at Writing Mommy had a great post called, "Confessions of a Working Mother" on Monday about her transition from working-at-home mom to working-at-an-office mom and how it comes together for her.
For those that have never done the work-at-home WITH children thing, it is EXHAUSTING. Totally, exhausting. If you think parenting is exhausting, combine that with deadlines, cold calls, constant firefighting, and early morning and late day calls at home...Unfortunately, I have found, in today's society, if you are a work-at-home mom with children. This is the reality. You live, breathe, eat, sleep mommyhood and workerhood simultaneously. A lot to juggle for anyone. Including the proverbial (and I believe mythical) super moms.
Sometimes there is no choice
Tertia is heading back to work in a couple of weeks and she's struggling with it. She is not trying to point fingers at moms who work or moms who stay home. She's just venting a bit and I think it's a really intersecting perspective. For her, going back to work in South Africa is simply a vehicle to provide her kids with a safe place to live and a shot at a better education. It's not about a meaningful career. It's about money. (Thanks to Half Changed World for pointing me to it)
If I want to live in a relatively safe suburb, if I want my kids to have access to a decent education, I have to work...Career? Who cares. It's all about earning money to live...I must say that I find that there is a slight, um, how can I put it, 'holier than thou' attitude that comes from *some* (not all!) SAHM's, a martyred air of having sacrificed all for their kids. Implicit implication that by not staying at home you are less of a mother, that you clearly love your kids less. I think that's unfair. I would if I could, I can't. I don't think SAHM's are better moms. I really don't, I just think they are luckier moms....Yes money doesn't buy you love, but I don't think being poorer means you love them more. Money doesn't buy you happiness but being poor certainly doesn't give it to you either.At-home mom or bust
The topic of being able to stay home when you have kids versus having to go back to work and put the kids in daycare is a hefty one that plagues some of my friends who don't even have kids yet. In a recent email, Paralegal Friend said personal finances would probably send her kids to daycare. That likelihood could be a deterrent from having kids in the first place.
In my position both (Mr. Paralegal) and I need to work and if we have a child in a few years, I think I will be forced to go back to work financially and I really would love to be a stay at home mom and DO NOT want to send my child to day care - so sad to say we may not have kids for that reason alone. You really are lucky (Father in Chief) makes enough money to support you and (Toddler in Chief) - I am sure it is easy for me to say that cause child or no child if I quit work and was home I may flip out and not like it or get really bored.Would love more perspectives. If you're feeling bold, type it up and hit publish.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Falling into the parenting trap
I've heard it from friends whose kids are older than mine, and I never thought I would fully understand. But the older my son gets (he just turned two on Saturday), the more I get it. I can't give my child everything he needs.
When he was a tiny baby, I personally pretty much had everything he needed because he needed a whole lot less: my breasts, along with a clean diaper now and again, were just about everything. Other than that, he slept or sat propped in his vibrating, bouncy chair and swatted at little toys arched above his head.
But the older he gets, it seems like I don't have enough to give. I think this deficiency gets back (at least partially) to the whole list of things to do during the day that have very little to do with being a good parent. Yes, I'm present. Yes, I read with my child, but it's usually only before nap time and bedtime. Yes, I play with my child, draw on the sidewalk with chalk with him, tickle him, take him to play with friends at the park. But I think most of the time, I set him down and offer him a toy to occupy him while I'm trying to cook a meal, clean, toss in a load of laundry, organize the recycling bins, brush my teeth, take a shower, read email, blog.
When Attorney Friend #2 reached this point in her parenting, she decided it was time for her daughter to go into daycare. And she went back to work. She acknowledged that she couldn't give her daughter everything she needed--enough playtime, enough learning tools, enough stimulation and social interaction. At daycare, her daughter would be in an environment designed for learning, playing, and socializing.
Toddler in Chief is with his child-care person for nine hours a week. During those hours, I know he's learning so much and fully engaged in playing and reading and learning. He'll sing a new song, books will be piled high from the reading marathon, and stacks of drawings will litter the ground beneath the easel. That is quality time. He's being stimulated and he's learning because the person taking care of him isn't in her own space wondering when she's going to get the laundry done. Those aren't her dishes in the dishwasher waiting to be put into their proper cupboards. I've also noticed this on the flip-side. When I'm at a friend's house watching her child for a couple of hours, I'm fully engaged in what the kids are doing. There aren't any domestic distractions.
I've even recently started turning on the television so that I can have 25 minutes of time to putter around the house. As a result, he's added a few words to his lexicon: "teevee, "Bee-uuu-zzz Queue-zzz," and "Tel-lee-tub-bee."
Perhaps because I'm home and I supposedly have so much time, the quality time with my son waits. It gets pushed to the bottom of that to-do list. Maybe working moms spend more quality time with their kids because they long to be with their kids all day? They don't have time to do the chores in the first place, so they aren't fretting because they aren't caught up. I'm with my kid all day and I wish I could get my stuff done. I long to be reading the book for my book club. I long to be taking a long, hot shower, or a nap or a chat with a friend.
I'm sure a lot of this comes from a variety of societal expectations about what I should be doing as a parent. When I was a kid, my mom didn't have hours and hours to sit and entertain us. We did what she did. We grocery shopped. We helped sort the laundry. We helped cook. We participated in life. And I think I turned out okay. I know my son is too young for some of those regular-life tasks, but I think it's good for him to make his own fun, to play by himself.
I'm sure I'm just falling victim to the guilty-hyper-parenting trap. Nothing ever seems just right.
When he was a tiny baby, I personally pretty much had everything he needed because he needed a whole lot less: my breasts, along with a clean diaper now and again, were just about everything. Other than that, he slept or sat propped in his vibrating, bouncy chair and swatted at little toys arched above his head.
But the older he gets, it seems like I don't have enough to give. I think this deficiency gets back (at least partially) to the whole list of things to do during the day that have very little to do with being a good parent. Yes, I'm present. Yes, I read with my child, but it's usually only before nap time and bedtime. Yes, I play with my child, draw on the sidewalk with chalk with him, tickle him, take him to play with friends at the park. But I think most of the time, I set him down and offer him a toy to occupy him while I'm trying to cook a meal, clean, toss in a load of laundry, organize the recycling bins, brush my teeth, take a shower, read email, blog.
When Attorney Friend #2 reached this point in her parenting, she decided it was time for her daughter to go into daycare. And she went back to work. She acknowledged that she couldn't give her daughter everything she needed--enough playtime, enough learning tools, enough stimulation and social interaction. At daycare, her daughter would be in an environment designed for learning, playing, and socializing.
Toddler in Chief is with his child-care person for nine hours a week. During those hours, I know he's learning so much and fully engaged in playing and reading and learning. He'll sing a new song, books will be piled high from the reading marathon, and stacks of drawings will litter the ground beneath the easel. That is quality time. He's being stimulated and he's learning because the person taking care of him isn't in her own space wondering when she's going to get the laundry done. Those aren't her dishes in the dishwasher waiting to be put into their proper cupboards. I've also noticed this on the flip-side. When I'm at a friend's house watching her child for a couple of hours, I'm fully engaged in what the kids are doing. There aren't any domestic distractions.
I've even recently started turning on the television so that I can have 25 minutes of time to putter around the house. As a result, he's added a few words to his lexicon: "teevee, "Bee-uuu-zzz Queue-zzz," and "Tel-lee-tub-bee."
Perhaps because I'm home and I supposedly have so much time, the quality time with my son waits. It gets pushed to the bottom of that to-do list. Maybe working moms spend more quality time with their kids because they long to be with their kids all day? They don't have time to do the chores in the first place, so they aren't fretting because they aren't caught up. I'm with my kid all day and I wish I could get my stuff done. I long to be reading the book for my book club. I long to be taking a long, hot shower, or a nap or a chat with a friend.
I'm sure a lot of this comes from a variety of societal expectations about what I should be doing as a parent. When I was a kid, my mom didn't have hours and hours to sit and entertain us. We did what she did. We grocery shopped. We helped sort the laundry. We helped cook. We participated in life. And I think I turned out okay. I know my son is too young for some of those regular-life tasks, but I think it's good for him to make his own fun, to play by himself.
I'm sure I'm just falling victim to the guilty-hyper-parenting trap. Nothing ever seems just right.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Power to the presence
Our world is composed of tiny, isolated islands. Each household, each family is on its own when it comes to raising kids. We don't grow up and move down the street from our parents, cousins, best friends. We grow up, move away, and settle in a sea of unfamiliarity hundreds and thousands of miles away from home.
We are not a village. We are not close-knit communities. We are islands living our lives without networks of family to lean on. We are raising our kids without a supportive community. Yes, I have friends. But even then, we barely feel comfortable asking for help.
This is a follow up to my previous post about missing family and the void that just can't seem to get filled. Toddler in Chief's grandparents are not physically present in his life, but they are a constant presence in his life. Phone messages. Email. Hallmark cards. Even though there are miles separating us, there are constant reminders of them. When we are together, they want to be with him, to play on the floor, read books, take him for walks in the stroller, take days off from work to spend with him, ask to keep him overnight.
This is not true for many people, regardless of how much distance is between them and their relatives. Bethany wrote: "We don't live near our respective families either... but when we go to visit, no on even *thinks* to ask to take the little tyke. In fact, if he gets fussy, Mom is immediately called for assistance. Very frustration and disheartening. Aren't grandparents supposed to rush in to spend time with their grandchildren? Must be something in the water, we have to beg our parents to participate."
How are parents supposed to do it on their own? How can grandparents give up the chance to have a special bond with their grandchildren? Don't they remember what it's like to need someone to lean on? If our families feel uncomfortable fulfilling their natural supportive role, how can we feel comfortable when others to want to help out? Shame on you, deadbeat grandparents. If our families--who nurtured us as children--make it unnatural to help raise our children, how can we expect others to want to nurture our children.
Even when we have friends filling in for distant, supportive family, we still don't feel comfortable helping each other out. For example, Attorney Friend is heading out of town for a friend's birthday next weekend. Instead of asking if we could watch her daughter over night, she hired a babysitter. Childcare Development Friend and I have helped each other out a bit when we've been in a pinch and she still says that she "owes me some hours." I'm not keeping score. We're friends and yet helping each other is uncomfortable and we end up feeling indebted.
If only we could anchor our islands together.
We are not a village. We are not close-knit communities. We are islands living our lives without networks of family to lean on. We are raising our kids without a supportive community. Yes, I have friends. But even then, we barely feel comfortable asking for help.
This is a follow up to my previous post about missing family and the void that just can't seem to get filled. Toddler in Chief's grandparents are not physically present in his life, but they are a constant presence in his life. Phone messages. Email. Hallmark cards. Even though there are miles separating us, there are constant reminders of them. When we are together, they want to be with him, to play on the floor, read books, take him for walks in the stroller, take days off from work to spend with him, ask to keep him overnight.
This is not true for many people, regardless of how much distance is between them and their relatives. Bethany wrote: "We don't live near our respective families either... but when we go to visit, no on even *thinks* to ask to take the little tyke. In fact, if he gets fussy, Mom is immediately called for assistance. Very frustration and disheartening. Aren't grandparents supposed to rush in to spend time with their grandchildren? Must be something in the water, we have to beg our parents to participate."
How are parents supposed to do it on their own? How can grandparents give up the chance to have a special bond with their grandchildren? Don't they remember what it's like to need someone to lean on? If our families feel uncomfortable fulfilling their natural supportive role, how can we feel comfortable when others to want to help out? Shame on you, deadbeat grandparents. If our families--who nurtured us as children--make it unnatural to help raise our children, how can we expect others to want to nurture our children.
Even when we have friends filling in for distant, supportive family, we still don't feel comfortable helping each other out. For example, Attorney Friend is heading out of town for a friend's birthday next weekend. Instead of asking if we could watch her daughter over night, she hired a babysitter. Childcare Development Friend and I have helped each other out a bit when we've been in a pinch and she still says that she "owes me some hours." I'm not keeping score. We're friends and yet helping each other is uncomfortable and we end up feeling indebted.
If only we could anchor our islands together.
Friday, April 01, 2005
There is a void that never goes out
It's good to be home with my own bed and a bigger variety of clothes. Traveling for four of the past five weeks sure makes me appreciate the simple pleasures of home. And since I've been back, I've done a lot of reflecting on one of the simple pleasures of life: being with family.
It was comforting to be with family. Between my family and Father in Chief's family, they were everywhere. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and their families. What an amazing network of people to know. I have never lived near my family as an adult. I moved away from home to go to college the day before my 18th birthday. There were no summers at home (my school was year-round), and I never moved back home after college to regroup while job-hunting. For the bulk of my youth, I couldn't wait to get away from my family. I think most teenagers feel that way. And as an adult, I've ached to be near them. There's been a longing that is prevalent everyday.
That void has been amplified by the fact that I have a child now.
My youth was surrounded by family. My paternal grandparents lived three blocks one way; my maternal grandmother lived six blocks the other way; my aunt/uncle/cousins lived five houses down the street. These people were a part of our everyday lives. We got together for every birthday, no matter what day of the week it was. We spent all the major holidays together. During the summer, days were spent in my cousins' backyard pool.
My son's closest relative (besides his parents) lives 2,000 miles away. He won't have that close relationship with his grandparents that I had with mine. Yes, he knows them. But when you only see each other a couple of times a year, you live on the highs. I can't and don't blame the family. We chose to move here. We are the ones who left. I do my best to convince family to move here, but they all have their own lives there.
Mostly, those weeks on the east coast were a glimpse of what life would be like if we lived near our families as I did when I was a kid. That support network does not exist elsewhere. Yes, we have friends near and dear to our hearts. Yes, we have a fabulous child-care person who works for us a couple of hours a week. Yes, our families come to visit. Yes, we go there for special occasions. But it just isn't the same.
These relatives wanted to be with us, to spend time with Toddler in Chief. They wanted him for whole days and overnights and as much time as he could be spared before the next relative's time slot started. I trusted them to feed, bathe, diaper, drive him. They wanted me to have a break. They did this all for free.
I can imagine how life would be different for my family if relatives lived nearby. I'm envious of people who have that, and I understand why people want to move closer to home when babies are born. Having that family network would make couple's night out easier, it would make going back to school easier. It would make going back to work easier. Here in California, I've got my village, but I sometimes wish I just had a family.
It was comforting to be with family. Between my family and Father in Chief's family, they were everywhere. Parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins and their families. What an amazing network of people to know. I have never lived near my family as an adult. I moved away from home to go to college the day before my 18th birthday. There were no summers at home (my school was year-round), and I never moved back home after college to regroup while job-hunting. For the bulk of my youth, I couldn't wait to get away from my family. I think most teenagers feel that way. And as an adult, I've ached to be near them. There's been a longing that is prevalent everyday.
That void has been amplified by the fact that I have a child now.
My youth was surrounded by family. My paternal grandparents lived three blocks one way; my maternal grandmother lived six blocks the other way; my aunt/uncle/cousins lived five houses down the street. These people were a part of our everyday lives. We got together for every birthday, no matter what day of the week it was. We spent all the major holidays together. During the summer, days were spent in my cousins' backyard pool.
My son's closest relative (besides his parents) lives 2,000 miles away. He won't have that close relationship with his grandparents that I had with mine. Yes, he knows them. But when you only see each other a couple of times a year, you live on the highs. I can't and don't blame the family. We chose to move here. We are the ones who left. I do my best to convince family to move here, but they all have their own lives there.
Mostly, those weeks on the east coast were a glimpse of what life would be like if we lived near our families as I did when I was a kid. That support network does not exist elsewhere. Yes, we have friends near and dear to our hearts. Yes, we have a fabulous child-care person who works for us a couple of hours a week. Yes, our families come to visit. Yes, we go there for special occasions. But it just isn't the same.
These relatives wanted to be with us, to spend time with Toddler in Chief. They wanted him for whole days and overnights and as much time as he could be spared before the next relative's time slot started. I trusted them to feed, bathe, diaper, drive him. They wanted me to have a break. They did this all for free.
I can imagine how life would be different for my family if relatives lived nearby. I'm envious of people who have that, and I understand why people want to move closer to home when babies are born. Having that family network would make couple's night out easier, it would make going back to school easier. It would make going back to work easier. Here in California, I've got my village, but I sometimes wish I just had a family.
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