I meant to write this for Mother's Day, trying to keep with a theme and all, but three kids, pancakes microwaved for 12 minutes for Mothers Day breakfast and a busy day, well you can imagine how much time these days I get to sit down and write. I actually took some time in class to journal...yeah, I'm a great student like that.
Anyhow, my post is mommy tips, it was inspired by an experience I had last summer. I was sitting on a bench in a fairly affluent area in my city. We're having a nice conversation and I see them, 4 mothers with $1500.00 strollers a piece, and babies 6 months and under. Either I'm getting crusty with age or with motherhood, but I don't have a tolerance for a lot of new moms. I tensed up immediately, because they stopped on the boardwalk in front of us (ooops, did I just give the area away? Well anyone living in Toronto, is now rolling their eyes and nodding "Of course you had this ridiculous experience there!!!") and they milled about for a few minutes trying to decide where to go. They proceeded to sit on the benches right next to us, I should add there are a million benches in the area, but it's a free world, sit next to the two people enjoying a quiet conversation and drown that out with your mommy wars.
So I got a good earful of their conversation, it covered everything from trying to one up each other's birth and how natural it was, to how early their baby was smiling and hitting those milestones outlined in every new pop culture parenting book. Now I have to say I'm no innocent, I had those conversations too, but I'd like to think I wasn't nearly so mental. I was lucky to fall into a group of friends who were all new moms, but not really up on the one upmanship, unless you counted who got the best bargain on diapers. My kind of crowd. But I'm sure I had my moments, which I'm sure those friends will remind me of tonight over a glass of wine. Anyhow, as they're going on, I'm getting more and more annoyed and I had to do everything in my power to not yell "Who cares??? This shit isn't going to matter when your kid is three, licking yogurt off your floor, poking blueberries up their nose and climbing up the walls!!! It's going to matter less, when your kid is in grade one, arguing with you that the sky is not blue and trying to master the art of farting with his armpits!!!"
So new mommies, let me give you some tips, I admit I am far from an expert, at least everywhere but my own personal universe, so take them with a grain of salt if you will, but they have certainly helped my sanity.
1. Tell any Monday morning quarterback who has the audacity to analyze how you've given birth to put their head where the sun doesn't shine. Seriously! If you had the birth you wanted, and you and baby are safe and healthy and happy, that is ALL that matters. Even if you didn't have the birth you wanted, but are able to make peace with that, that is ALL that matters. I HATE Monday morning quarterbacks who pass judgment on moms who have had epidurals or c-sections. I hate it when they tell a mom outright, I hate it when they sugar coat it. Whether they are a stay at home mom, or the guru of all things birthing, it's none of their fucking business! They have no right to judge you. And when you tell them that and they look confused, you can tell them that Mamajoy and her 2 out of 3 births sans epidural and one at home told you to say that! Believe me, 6 years later, and all my friends kids who were birthed in many different ways, believe me, the c section kids aren't sitting in corners rocking themselves because they haven't had the glory of a water birth in the ocean with dolphins coming in to greet them.
2. Same goes for feeding. I know, there are a gabillion studies that point out that breastfed kids have a few more IQ points than non breastfed kids, but if you can't breastfeed, think about it, worst case scenario, have you ever known a person who has been too stupid to live a happy life because they were bottle fed? One of my friends didn't even get the luxury of formula, but evaporated milk or some other shit like that, and they're not doing too poorly for themselves. But ultimately, what is the ultimate wish that every parent has for their child? That they are happy? There hasn't been any studies that says formula prevents this. I was fed formula, I grew up in poverty, I'm going through a divorce for some pretty shitty reasons, but guess what? I'm still happy! I have awesome friends, great kids, food in my belly, the best family, an amazing boyfriend and a lot of cool things on the go. What will keep your kids happy is the ability to instill grace in them to recognize all that they have going for them. If your kids need to be a rocket scientist or be pulling down 7 figures as a result of those few extra IQ points in order to make them happy, then you're buying into a brand of parenting, of life! that is way different than mine
3. My oldest was singing songs, accurately identifying body parts and barnyard noises by the time he was 1, he was also potty trained in 2 weeks. He was sleeping through the night at 4 months AND taking naps 2x a day. By all accounts he was brilliant and the most awesome superbaby EVAH! Guess what? He's in grade 1, doing perfectly well, but not quite on the road to building a time space machine. He does have the ability to think up an excellent counterargument at the speed of light, but that also works against me A LOT! He hit a lot of milestones early, and some of his friends much later, but it all comes out in the wash, trust me.
4. Baby gear. I have a stroller library. No joke, my friends made fun of me, they still do. I've now traded in strollers for something far more awesome, which is purses and shoes (my friends all now want me to will those purses to them should I meet my untimely demise). Really, my kids are not better off, or more ergonomically designed because of the millions of strollers. Kids who've had nothing but organic fibre clothes made by silkworms from Awesomeville aren't in any better position than kids in regular old cotton. Trust me, they will outgrow, out last, out live and break everything else, do not spend a mint and do not feel inferior because someone has the baby high chair supreme deluxe 5000. Their money, they can spend it how they want, but in the end, their kid is still going to toss that oatmeal across the room just the same. Now if there truly was a device that washed, dried, folded, hung up and put away all the laundry....THEN be jealous.
5. Parenting philosophies. Geeze louise the things women put themselves through, comparing parenting styles is just crazy. You know what is the best parenting philosophy? The one that works best for your family, just like the one that works best for the Joneses family is the best philosophy for them. Believe me, the kids who are getting McDonalds once a week are not suffering horribly compared to the kids who are getting homegrown home made lentil cakes. I was once talking to a father of two grown women, both of the sisters had children about the same time. One was a serious attachment parent, and the other was more mainstream. The grandfather remarked that the kids were pretty much the same kids, neither more brighter, well adjusted or happier. It was a lightbulb for me, both of these kids were loved, but raised fairly differently, however other than superficial things, they both had similar values, attachments and ways of going about being kids. Seriously, if you put a bunch of kids in a room with different loving parenting philosophies, you're not going to have an easy time telling which kid was raised this way or that.
6. SAHM vs WOHMs. Do not torture yourself. Do what you need to do. There's been enough kids who have had to go to daycare who are just as socially well adjusted and bonded to their parents as those who have been raised at home. I speak as a former stay at home parent. My kids friends...still enjoy the same bum and fart and poop jokes, still bring their moms flowers, they're not burning down houses or torturing animals because they were in daycare from an early age.
Bottom line is don't get sucked into the competition game. Mommy groups can be wonderful things, if you find the right ones. I was lucky in that I had the right one which had given me my core group of amazing friends whom I can go to with any problem without being judged. Other ones, notsomuch. If you're stuck in the latter, run! Run away! There are cool ones out there. And in the meantime, remember that in 6 years from now when your little ones are on the playground, learning how to read, learning how much fun it is to gross you out with their wiggling tooth, what you put on their arse to catch their poop, what you fed them, whether you used an exersaucer for 20 minutes of respite is going to have little bearing on the human beings they grow into. Its the love you give them, the examples you provide and the values you instill that will determine what kind of person they grow into. Believe me, 10 years from now as I'm dealing with all the trials and tribulations of THREE teenagers, I'll be lucky enough to remember what I did in these early days, I'll just be trying to survive and enjoy the wild ride they're sure to provide. So plllllleeeeeease try not to torture yourself too much and keep in mind that parenthood is a lifetime gig and if you're getting stressed about these microissues now, you're in for a very bumpy ride later. Keep the big picture in mind and believe me, whether your kid wears Gymboree or George brand clothing, will be a very small pixel in that frame.
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moms. Show all posts
Friday, May 18, 2012
Friday, September 30, 2011
Strong Women
When you have something you are passionate about, if you get a bee in your bonnet related to your passion, it continues buzzing until you satiate the damn thing. In my case, it's writing down my thoughts. Even when it's closing in on 1:30am and I have to be up in 5 1/2 hours to three bouncing off the wall boys and a very stoic poodle puppy. So I was having a chat with a friend, shooting the breeze about life in general and old times and it got me thinking about something that's been a good positive consistent theme in my life. So as I'm lying in bed thinking about the conversation, I can't get the topic out of my head, so I heaved myself out of my nice warm and ever so comfortable bed, and made my way down to old Betsy and here I am...nose inches from the screen because I already took my contacts out and I can't find my glasses. So this is going to be filled with oodles of errors because I'm tired and I can't see. Duly warned!
For those who don't know, I grew up in Regent Park. Most of it is rubble now, including my former home, but back in the day it was a community rich in culture, people and relationships. It was much like a small town in that we were pretty isolated from the outside world. We would do our food shopping and get supplies when needed, but for the most part, entertainment was local, schools were local, friends and family were local, churches, etc...you get the picture. So that consistent theme. Well everyone always thought of Regent as this scary place filled with drug dealers and criminals, and while the drug trade did find a convenient place to exist in that poorly mapped out community, there were families. Tonnes and tonnes of families. Thousands of people crammed into roughly 1000 units total. Many of these families were headed by women. I can probably count on my hands the number of dads who were consistently there and kudos to them, however fellas, I'm here to talk about the women...why? Because I am one, and it's my blog. :)
These moms were tough! I mean tough as nails tough. We never crossed the moms, didn't matter if they were our own or not, they'd just as soon chew you out, then go tell your mom, who would proceed to make your life hell for the next little while. They had to be strong, strict, caring and stand up to shield us as much as they could from a very chaotic world. On top of that they had to deal with poverty, living in broken buildings, several jobs and all the little things we take for granted, but were magnified because of all the additional crap we had to endure.
But there were those moms, those aunts, those sisters. In Regent, often your family was your friends and neighbours. I have so many people I consider family who I don't share a drop of blood with. You might squabble with them over the noise of their TV, but they'd also give you their last cup of milk if your kids were screaming. We watched out for one another.
One time, we had the fortune of having 3 crack houses on our floor! This caused a lot of night time traffic, fighting and just overall a terrible situation for the rest of the families there. The police did the minimal, the landlord too, so the moms decided to take matters into their own hands. For weeks, they'd whisper death threats to us kids to not leave our apartments (we never listened) and they would collectively stand at the elevator doors and harass anyone who was there to do drugs. There was a church lady there. And anyone who grows up in an inner city community knows that you do not FUCK with the church lady. She had an old fashioned school bells, so the first thing those folks were confronted with when that door opened was an angry Jamaican church lady with a very loud bell, giving them the well mannered, but in no uncertain terms chewing out that only an angry Jamaican church lady could give (God help me if she ever saw the language I use on my blog). But really, all these moms took a serious risk, they could have been hurt in so many ways, there were plenty of opportunities to get them alone, but they decided as a collective that this nonsense had to end and they'd fight like hell together to do so. Within a month, those crack houses had moved on.
Our community was enriched by many dedicated professionals who came in and worked hard. From the school teachers, to the doctors and nurses, the admin staff, the community workers. My sense of constant moral outrage comes from my grade 4, 5 and 8 teacher. She's way crankier than I could ever muster, but dammit, she'd be proud at my uppityness. I remember discussing my sexual health as a teenager with the caring doctors and nurses at our local health centre. I'm sure all you women can remember how much fun THAT was as a young woman. I can remember how much love and encouragement I got from everyone really. Our moms might have squabbled, but they left the kids out of it, that was a hard and fast rule. I used to write for the local youth paper and bringing my sense of moral outrage and uppityness, I wrote an article slamming the local community police liaison committee for classism and completely ignoring Regent Park in favour of the much wealthier communities surrounding our home. Well, didn't all these folks demand a meeting with me, where they proceeded to tear 16 year old me a new one. I was there with two of my 16 year old friends getting that beating. But my mom whom I whispered death threats to if she went all mother bear on me, was there and made sure that I was okay at the end of the meeting. Shortly after, I was at a local committee meeting and was presented with a journal from a lovely woman. She told me to keep writing and keep giving them hell, I intend to make good on that. I still have that journal.
And really, just thinking of how many countless people who have come out of Regent Park, with all the temptation to fall into despair and destructive activities, as folks who have avoided all that and have made good lives and relationships for themselves and others, is a testament in itself to the sheer force of will and soul our mothers had to get us to that point.
I've struggled in the past 8 months, God knows how I've struggled, but I've survived and I've come to a point where I know I'll survive. I've also noticed that the people who have circled the wagons around me, have been predominantly women. One of my most favourite recent memories, was coming home to my bestie aka my wife, my babysitter and our kids at home and dinner well on the way. How perfect was that? My only regret was that my life saving, I worship the ground she walks on, nanny and my mom weren't there. Just women doing what we always do, to take care of the kids and banding together to take care of each other.
I sometimes wondered where I learned how to be this strong, but tonight while chatting, it dawned on me or was presented to me, I'm sorry, it's late, I can't remember that I have this legacy of amazing women all throughout my life. They have been strong, opinionated, generous, downright bitchy if need be, terrifying and loving all at the same time. It's very humbling to think of them, because living or dead, even though their blood does not run in my veins, their wisdom and passion lives within my soul. It was an epiphany tonight, and I know the next time I feel burnt out at the end of my rope, I will remember them. Words cannot possibly express the gratitude and appreciation I feel, it's overwhelming, so all I can do is to vow to live my life with the same strength, fire and kindness that they do/did.
For those who don't know, I grew up in Regent Park. Most of it is rubble now, including my former home, but back in the day it was a community rich in culture, people and relationships. It was much like a small town in that we were pretty isolated from the outside world. We would do our food shopping and get supplies when needed, but for the most part, entertainment was local, schools were local, friends and family were local, churches, etc...you get the picture. So that consistent theme. Well everyone always thought of Regent as this scary place filled with drug dealers and criminals, and while the drug trade did find a convenient place to exist in that poorly mapped out community, there were families. Tonnes and tonnes of families. Thousands of people crammed into roughly 1000 units total. Many of these families were headed by women. I can probably count on my hands the number of dads who were consistently there and kudos to them, however fellas, I'm here to talk about the women...why? Because I am one, and it's my blog. :)
These moms were tough! I mean tough as nails tough. We never crossed the moms, didn't matter if they were our own or not, they'd just as soon chew you out, then go tell your mom, who would proceed to make your life hell for the next little while. They had to be strong, strict, caring and stand up to shield us as much as they could from a very chaotic world. On top of that they had to deal with poverty, living in broken buildings, several jobs and all the little things we take for granted, but were magnified because of all the additional crap we had to endure.
But there were those moms, those aunts, those sisters. In Regent, often your family was your friends and neighbours. I have so many people I consider family who I don't share a drop of blood with. You might squabble with them over the noise of their TV, but they'd also give you their last cup of milk if your kids were screaming. We watched out for one another.
One time, we had the fortune of having 3 crack houses on our floor! This caused a lot of night time traffic, fighting and just overall a terrible situation for the rest of the families there. The police did the minimal, the landlord too, so the moms decided to take matters into their own hands. For weeks, they'd whisper death threats to us kids to not leave our apartments (we never listened) and they would collectively stand at the elevator doors and harass anyone who was there to do drugs. There was a church lady there. And anyone who grows up in an inner city community knows that you do not FUCK with the church lady. She had an old fashioned school bells, so the first thing those folks were confronted with when that door opened was an angry Jamaican church lady with a very loud bell, giving them the well mannered, but in no uncertain terms chewing out that only an angry Jamaican church lady could give (God help me if she ever saw the language I use on my blog). But really, all these moms took a serious risk, they could have been hurt in so many ways, there were plenty of opportunities to get them alone, but they decided as a collective that this nonsense had to end and they'd fight like hell together to do so. Within a month, those crack houses had moved on.
Our community was enriched by many dedicated professionals who came in and worked hard. From the school teachers, to the doctors and nurses, the admin staff, the community workers. My sense of constant moral outrage comes from my grade 4, 5 and 8 teacher. She's way crankier than I could ever muster, but dammit, she'd be proud at my uppityness. I remember discussing my sexual health as a teenager with the caring doctors and nurses at our local health centre. I'm sure all you women can remember how much fun THAT was as a young woman. I can remember how much love and encouragement I got from everyone really. Our moms might have squabbled, but they left the kids out of it, that was a hard and fast rule. I used to write for the local youth paper and bringing my sense of moral outrage and uppityness, I wrote an article slamming the local community police liaison committee for classism and completely ignoring Regent Park in favour of the much wealthier communities surrounding our home. Well, didn't all these folks demand a meeting with me, where they proceeded to tear 16 year old me a new one. I was there with two of my 16 year old friends getting that beating. But my mom whom I whispered death threats to if she went all mother bear on me, was there and made sure that I was okay at the end of the meeting. Shortly after, I was at a local committee meeting and was presented with a journal from a lovely woman. She told me to keep writing and keep giving them hell, I intend to make good on that. I still have that journal.
And really, just thinking of how many countless people who have come out of Regent Park, with all the temptation to fall into despair and destructive activities, as folks who have avoided all that and have made good lives and relationships for themselves and others, is a testament in itself to the sheer force of will and soul our mothers had to get us to that point.
I've struggled in the past 8 months, God knows how I've struggled, but I've survived and I've come to a point where I know I'll survive. I've also noticed that the people who have circled the wagons around me, have been predominantly women. One of my most favourite recent memories, was coming home to my bestie aka my wife, my babysitter and our kids at home and dinner well on the way. How perfect was that? My only regret was that my life saving, I worship the ground she walks on, nanny and my mom weren't there. Just women doing what we always do, to take care of the kids and banding together to take care of each other.
I sometimes wondered where I learned how to be this strong, but tonight while chatting, it dawned on me or was presented to me, I'm sorry, it's late, I can't remember that I have this legacy of amazing women all throughout my life. They have been strong, opinionated, generous, downright bitchy if need be, terrifying and loving all at the same time. It's very humbling to think of them, because living or dead, even though their blood does not run in my veins, their wisdom and passion lives within my soul. It was an epiphany tonight, and I know the next time I feel burnt out at the end of my rope, I will remember them. Words cannot possibly express the gratitude and appreciation I feel, it's overwhelming, so all I can do is to vow to live my life with the same strength, fire and kindness that they do/did.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
What they don't tell you in prenantal class
There are a million things people don't talk about when having children. Your deliveries will be beautiful, your birthplan will be adhered to, you'll spend your babymoon nursing in a sunlit room garbed in white, your baby will make your family complete and you'll all live happily ever after.
What they don't say is that you'll likely poop yourself during delivery, your birthplan may be radically altered in a blink of an eye, your babymoon will be filled with delirious highs and crushing lows due to sleep deprivation and your partner and you? Your marriage is likely going to be REALLY tested by this little new arrival.
That is the thing they don't talk about, but they really need to. I can't tell you how many times I've talked to moms who were at their wits end with their partner. Their partner having emotionally distanced themselves, burying themselves in work, games, hobbies or even less healthy activities. I'm not going to be inclusive and talk about partners in terms of men and speak from the womens point of view, because it's really the only one I know. It's like the guys see this new responsibility, which is going to tie your life down considerably and they panic.
I've known women with husbands who've cheated during their pregnancy, post partum, husbands who work like maniacs, get involved with online gaming, pick up several new hobbies, turn into grumpy emotional messes. I've known women who scratching their heads, women who would pin part of their PPD in part to their hubbies wigging out, women teetering on a knifes edge about whether they were going to leave their marriage.
Pregnancy is hard, post partum is brutal, nothing can quite prepare you for the toll it takes. In Canada, most women take the first year off work for maternity leave (yes, envy us Canadians) more often than not, mom stays home as we're the ones with the milk. So in addition to no sleep, wild hormonal swings, a mega dependent baby, we have a partner going through an identity crisis, but we seldom address the mom's needs beyond good nutrition, good lactation support, good post partum support and really, even that support is a joke.
And on the other side of that, what about our loss of identity? Our loss of independence. I've been childfree three times this week. Once for a meeting at church, once for an appointment and once to go grocery shopping. Maybe for a total of 6 hours, out of 168. And I don't count shopping or medical appointments, so 2 hours. I had to threaten to put my head through a badminton racket if I didn't get 20 minutes to write this blog post. I've purchased food, supplies, clothes, underwear, furniture with baby in tow. If I want to take a class, go to the doctor, or do anything for further health or mental development, I have schedule babysitters, drivers, schools and pray that no one gets sick,. My life is no longer my own, it's dictated by the needs of three children and as a SAHM, the buck stops here. If my child is sick, my plans are cancelled. Period! It doesn't matter if I have a date with the Queen, that's how it is, and it's not unique to me.
Our independence and identity has been changed to the nth degree. We are forced to sit still and just be. After being programmed for 30 or so years that we're nothing if we're not out making money or out changing the world, we struggle with the slower pace of life. We're not being the movers and shakers we were pre kids, so needless to say, it's a pretty big adjustment. And while moms do go off the rails, biology is a strong pull to keep us near our babes and exhaustion takes care of the rest and so that offers little opportunity to do much else than shutting down emotionally or being crabs.
So we might feel a little resentful when our significant others go squirrelly at the shock of their new identities when we are struggling with ours. I mean, a big part of me is like WTF? You get to PEE ALONE!!! You get to go to work! You get to have lunch! With people! And have a conversation! You don't have to go food shopping, or buy toilet paper, or clean the house 40 times a day or change 70 diapers a day! So in my less charitable moments, I'm not even the slightest bit inclined to see the other POV and to be honest, I still don't fully understand it, three kids later.
Is there a happy medium? I imagine there is, but I think it's a learning curve. I wish I could say I've figured it out, but three kids in, I haven't. I think time, patience, and understanding for how we're coping is needed. I think sensitivity in how we cope and how it affects our husband/wife is vital. If your inclination is to go to the computer after a hard day, do so after the kids are in bed. Stay up as much as you want, but be prepared kids wake up early and often and you'll have to be game ready. Going out drinking every week and coming home smashed...probably not a great coping mechanism. We need to cope, but we need to cope responsibly!
The marriage is going through a major change and the urge to escape the pressures is only natural, but how, and when and why we do it is key to determining whether this will make or break your marriage. I think even though our reserves are low, we need to dig down deep and pour in extra energy to make things a little more bearable for our partner, within reason of course.
We also need to identify our needs and get them addressed. Whether its swapping some babysitting, hiring someone, getting housecleaning, getting non work/baby time ALONE with some friends or not. We need to figure out our emotional needs, like touching, thoughtful gestures, space and we need to get them addressed. As emotional partners, we need to be prepared to meet our others emotional needs as well. (BTW, this is going for men as well as women, don't think for a minute I'm letting them off the hook).
Really, I think more time and study needs to be given to helping couples get through that first year or two. It's a major shock to the person, let alone the relationship and no one talks about it. It's like a shameful little secret, but the more and more I hear about it, the more I believe it's common, even normal, however it needs to be managed so that the marriage isn't staggering along, but rather evolved into something different, but better and stronger.
Sometimes I waver in what to do with my next life (post SAHM) and given that I've just spewed a bucketload of thoughts on this subject, sometimes family counselling doesn't seem like such an out of place idea. ;) Anyhow, my 20 minutes are up, I have two kids 3 and under melting down, I have laundry, shopping and a house to clean, before 2pm. So I best put away my superblogger cape and get back to my ordinary mom identity.
What they don't say is that you'll likely poop yourself during delivery, your birthplan may be radically altered in a blink of an eye, your babymoon will be filled with delirious highs and crushing lows due to sleep deprivation and your partner and you? Your marriage is likely going to be REALLY tested by this little new arrival.
That is the thing they don't talk about, but they really need to. I can't tell you how many times I've talked to moms who were at their wits end with their partner. Their partner having emotionally distanced themselves, burying themselves in work, games, hobbies or even less healthy activities. I'm not going to be inclusive and talk about partners in terms of men and speak from the womens point of view, because it's really the only one I know. It's like the guys see this new responsibility, which is going to tie your life down considerably and they panic.
I've known women with husbands who've cheated during their pregnancy, post partum, husbands who work like maniacs, get involved with online gaming, pick up several new hobbies, turn into grumpy emotional messes. I've known women who scratching their heads, women who would pin part of their PPD in part to their hubbies wigging out, women teetering on a knifes edge about whether they were going to leave their marriage.
Pregnancy is hard, post partum is brutal, nothing can quite prepare you for the toll it takes. In Canada, most women take the first year off work for maternity leave (yes, envy us Canadians) more often than not, mom stays home as we're the ones with the milk. So in addition to no sleep, wild hormonal swings, a mega dependent baby, we have a partner going through an identity crisis, but we seldom address the mom's needs beyond good nutrition, good lactation support, good post partum support and really, even that support is a joke.
And on the other side of that, what about our loss of identity? Our loss of independence. I've been childfree three times this week. Once for a meeting at church, once for an appointment and once to go grocery shopping. Maybe for a total of 6 hours, out of 168. And I don't count shopping or medical appointments, so 2 hours. I had to threaten to put my head through a badminton racket if I didn't get 20 minutes to write this blog post. I've purchased food, supplies, clothes, underwear, furniture with baby in tow. If I want to take a class, go to the doctor, or do anything for further health or mental development, I have schedule babysitters, drivers, schools and pray that no one gets sick,. My life is no longer my own, it's dictated by the needs of three children and as a SAHM, the buck stops here. If my child is sick, my plans are cancelled. Period! It doesn't matter if I have a date with the Queen, that's how it is, and it's not unique to me.
Our independence and identity has been changed to the nth degree. We are forced to sit still and just be. After being programmed for 30 or so years that we're nothing if we're not out making money or out changing the world, we struggle with the slower pace of life. We're not being the movers and shakers we were pre kids, so needless to say, it's a pretty big adjustment. And while moms do go off the rails, biology is a strong pull to keep us near our babes and exhaustion takes care of the rest and so that offers little opportunity to do much else than shutting down emotionally or being crabs.
So we might feel a little resentful when our significant others go squirrelly at the shock of their new identities when we are struggling with ours. I mean, a big part of me is like WTF? You get to PEE ALONE!!! You get to go to work! You get to have lunch! With people! And have a conversation! You don't have to go food shopping, or buy toilet paper, or clean the house 40 times a day or change 70 diapers a day! So in my less charitable moments, I'm not even the slightest bit inclined to see the other POV and to be honest, I still don't fully understand it, three kids later.
Is there a happy medium? I imagine there is, but I think it's a learning curve. I wish I could say I've figured it out, but three kids in, I haven't. I think time, patience, and understanding for how we're coping is needed. I think sensitivity in how we cope and how it affects our husband/wife is vital. If your inclination is to go to the computer after a hard day, do so after the kids are in bed. Stay up as much as you want, but be prepared kids wake up early and often and you'll have to be game ready. Going out drinking every week and coming home smashed...probably not a great coping mechanism. We need to cope, but we need to cope responsibly!
The marriage is going through a major change and the urge to escape the pressures is only natural, but how, and when and why we do it is key to determining whether this will make or break your marriage. I think even though our reserves are low, we need to dig down deep and pour in extra energy to make things a little more bearable for our partner, within reason of course.
We also need to identify our needs and get them addressed. Whether its swapping some babysitting, hiring someone, getting housecleaning, getting non work/baby time ALONE with some friends or not. We need to figure out our emotional needs, like touching, thoughtful gestures, space and we need to get them addressed. As emotional partners, we need to be prepared to meet our others emotional needs as well. (BTW, this is going for men as well as women, don't think for a minute I'm letting them off the hook).
Really, I think more time and study needs to be given to helping couples get through that first year or two. It's a major shock to the person, let alone the relationship and no one talks about it. It's like a shameful little secret, but the more and more I hear about it, the more I believe it's common, even normal, however it needs to be managed so that the marriage isn't staggering along, but rather evolved into something different, but better and stronger.
Sometimes I waver in what to do with my next life (post SAHM) and given that I've just spewed a bucketload of thoughts on this subject, sometimes family counselling doesn't seem like such an out of place idea. ;) Anyhow, my 20 minutes are up, I have two kids 3 and under melting down, I have laundry, shopping and a house to clean, before 2pm. So I best put away my superblogger cape and get back to my ordinary mom identity.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Advocacy
I've been trying to think of what to write all this morning when the post kind of jumped on me. I was sitting having a coffee after running an errand at the grocery store. You know when you're staring off into nowhere not even really recognizing what you're seeing? Well, I was doing that. In my line of sight, I discovered was a mom feeding her baby a bottle. I didn't realize it until she said
"Yeah, I know it's a bottle and I feel bad about that."
I woke up and rather elegantly responded "Huh?"
She told me "You were watching me feed my baby and I just wanted to let you know that yes I do feel guilty about giving him a bottle."
I said "Why?" Obviously my vocabulary has been limited to one word answers today, it is a Monday after all.
She started to tear up a bit and told me with a shakey voice, "Well, because it's not best for my baby, but I tried breastfeeding him and I don't have enough milk."
I felt her, really REALLY felt for her, anyone who has read my blog knows the problems I've had with breastfeeding and the encounters I've had with "well meaning" people about it. I went through my bag and pulled out the formula I had bought and said "Dude" (I say dude a lot) "You're not getting any judgment from me!"
She looked very relieved. I told her that I too had problems breastfeeding and after umpteen different experts, meds, herbs, water, oats, yadda yadda I just didn't have it in me-the milk that is. During this process she had told me how she had been approached on several occasions in her mom groups, classes strangers about "doing what's best for her baby" (Seriously, if I can borrow a term from the Childfree by Choice crowd, this is a Bingo and a half!). She had been told about how her child was going to turn out fat, stupid, sick. It was freaking deja vu. This was her first baby and she was traumatised enough with adjusting to life with new child, let alone every freaking person with too much time on their hands telling her that she was doing a shitty job at it. I told her the first thing that came to my head, something I should have said over 5 years ago when I was dealing with these people. "You tell them to go to Hell!" She kinda laughed, I smiled and said "Seriously. It's none of their bloody business and you're doing your best by the baby." I told her how brilliant and healthy my 5 year old is, and how evil and healthy my 3 year old is and how inconceivably cute and healthy my 4 month old is, which she witnessed first hand. I told her that being a new mom is hard enough, to not listen to people who felt the need to criticize her no matter how well intentioned they were. Maybe because I'm of inferior intelligence having been fed formula when I was a child, but I have a hell of a time picking out this mysterious caste system of superior breast fed children and the unwashed masses like me and said as much to her.
Now, this does seem to be a rant in one direction and dangerously coming close to me just taking off with that (and yes I love ranting, deal with it!) but it's more a lights on moment for me. Why the hell didn't I say this 5 years ago? True, I didn't know how awesome my kids would turn out (when they're not being evil little despots) but truly I knew that how I fed them was no ones business. I was a lot more outspoken 5 years ago, why didn't I give them the verbal smackdown they so obviously needed? Because I'm terrible at advocating for myself. And you know what? I'm not alone. As I had this brainiac moment, I remembered a post on my FB from a friend wondering why she's so terrible at advocating for herself when she has pretty much levelled cities in advocating for her child. I talk to moms, women of all persuasions all the time who are intelligent, gutsy, cheeky people, who have no problems going Incredible Hulk on behalf of their kids, family, friends, colleagues, strangers! But true to form, they come last and all of a sudden, that ferocity is gone. I'm no different, not in the least. I've gotten up in the face of drug dealers, police officers...people who carry guns! And yet, if my doctor reads me the riot act because I'm overweight, even though I've dropped 10 pounds in the past 10 weeks, I crumple...and seriously, my doctor is 5'0 and 90lbs soaking wet, with a voice like one of the Mole Sisters, I can take her! Do we not feel that same amount of entitlement for ourselves that would have people treating us as well as our loved ones? Apparently not! Maybe we use it up, maybe we just don't think that highly of ourselves, but that needs to be changed, on the quick!
I started thinking of ways to be a better advocate for myself and I think I've stumbled upon something. We all have people who love and care about us, and if we don't, then you need some, I'll pinch hit if need be, just keep me supplied with wine and cookies. Think of yourself and how riled up you get when one of your friends has been treated poorly. Think of how you want to come to their defense and rip a new one for whoever has treated them poorly. Now reverse that. I'm going to try and picture what my gal pals would say on my behalf if I'm being treated poorly. I'll use the quickness of one, the snarkiness of another, the reasoning diplomacy of the third, the eloquence of a fourth and the kick in the head ninjaness of the fifth. Combined, they will be SuperJoyDefender! Taking Shit from no one!!!! Or I could just picture my mother, but I'd probably end up in prison, not so good on a resume for a mother of 3.
Those are actually two methods for the blog price of one. You can either draw that strength and logic and objectivity up from how you would respond if your friend was being treated this way, or you can channel them into defending you.
*Waiting for the applause*
Okay, maybe not so much the applause, but I would be interested in some feedback by folks who are interested in trying it for themselves. I need to channel my inner asskicking friend as I'm about to fire someone and will use my diplomatic friend to do so in the most awesome terms. I will let you know how it goes when I discover the fallout...which I'll weather, somehow. I need to find a fallout friend that I can channel. Too bad most of my friends are great at staying out of trouble.
"Yeah, I know it's a bottle and I feel bad about that."
I woke up and rather elegantly responded "Huh?"
She told me "You were watching me feed my baby and I just wanted to let you know that yes I do feel guilty about giving him a bottle."
I said "Why?" Obviously my vocabulary has been limited to one word answers today, it is a Monday after all.
She started to tear up a bit and told me with a shakey voice, "Well, because it's not best for my baby, but I tried breastfeeding him and I don't have enough milk."
I felt her, really REALLY felt for her, anyone who has read my blog knows the problems I've had with breastfeeding and the encounters I've had with "well meaning" people about it. I went through my bag and pulled out the formula I had bought and said "Dude" (I say dude a lot) "You're not getting any judgment from me!"
She looked very relieved. I told her that I too had problems breastfeeding and after umpteen different experts, meds, herbs, water, oats, yadda yadda I just didn't have it in me-the milk that is. During this process she had told me how she had been approached on several occasions in her mom groups, classes strangers about "doing what's best for her baby" (Seriously, if I can borrow a term from the Childfree by Choice crowd, this is a Bingo and a half!). She had been told about how her child was going to turn out fat, stupid, sick. It was freaking deja vu. This was her first baby and she was traumatised enough with adjusting to life with new child, let alone every freaking person with too much time on their hands telling her that she was doing a shitty job at it. I told her the first thing that came to my head, something I should have said over 5 years ago when I was dealing with these people. "You tell them to go to Hell!" She kinda laughed, I smiled and said "Seriously. It's none of their bloody business and you're doing your best by the baby." I told her how brilliant and healthy my 5 year old is, and how evil and healthy my 3 year old is and how inconceivably cute and healthy my 4 month old is, which she witnessed first hand. I told her that being a new mom is hard enough, to not listen to people who felt the need to criticize her no matter how well intentioned they were. Maybe because I'm of inferior intelligence having been fed formula when I was a child, but I have a hell of a time picking out this mysterious caste system of superior breast fed children and the unwashed masses like me and said as much to her.
Now, this does seem to be a rant in one direction and dangerously coming close to me just taking off with that (and yes I love ranting, deal with it!) but it's more a lights on moment for me. Why the hell didn't I say this 5 years ago? True, I didn't know how awesome my kids would turn out (when they're not being evil little despots) but truly I knew that how I fed them was no ones business. I was a lot more outspoken 5 years ago, why didn't I give them the verbal smackdown they so obviously needed? Because I'm terrible at advocating for myself. And you know what? I'm not alone. As I had this brainiac moment, I remembered a post on my FB from a friend wondering why she's so terrible at advocating for herself when she has pretty much levelled cities in advocating for her child. I talk to moms, women of all persuasions all the time who are intelligent, gutsy, cheeky people, who have no problems going Incredible Hulk on behalf of their kids, family, friends, colleagues, strangers! But true to form, they come last and all of a sudden, that ferocity is gone. I'm no different, not in the least. I've gotten up in the face of drug dealers, police officers...people who carry guns! And yet, if my doctor reads me the riot act because I'm overweight, even though I've dropped 10 pounds in the past 10 weeks, I crumple...and seriously, my doctor is 5'0 and 90lbs soaking wet, with a voice like one of the Mole Sisters, I can take her! Do we not feel that same amount of entitlement for ourselves that would have people treating us as well as our loved ones? Apparently not! Maybe we use it up, maybe we just don't think that highly of ourselves, but that needs to be changed, on the quick!
I started thinking of ways to be a better advocate for myself and I think I've stumbled upon something. We all have people who love and care about us, and if we don't, then you need some, I'll pinch hit if need be, just keep me supplied with wine and cookies. Think of yourself and how riled up you get when one of your friends has been treated poorly. Think of how you want to come to their defense and rip a new one for whoever has treated them poorly. Now reverse that. I'm going to try and picture what my gal pals would say on my behalf if I'm being treated poorly. I'll use the quickness of one, the snarkiness of another, the reasoning diplomacy of the third, the eloquence of a fourth and the kick in the head ninjaness of the fifth. Combined, they will be SuperJoyDefender! Taking Shit from no one!!!! Or I could just picture my mother, but I'd probably end up in prison, not so good on a resume for a mother of 3.
Those are actually two methods for the blog price of one. You can either draw that strength and logic and objectivity up from how you would respond if your friend was being treated this way, or you can channel them into defending you.
*Waiting for the applause*
Okay, maybe not so much the applause, but I would be interested in some feedback by folks who are interested in trying it for themselves. I need to channel my inner asskicking friend as I'm about to fire someone and will use my diplomatic friend to do so in the most awesome terms. I will let you know how it goes when I discover the fallout...which I'll weather, somehow. I need to find a fallout friend that I can channel. Too bad most of my friends are great at staying out of trouble.
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