North, South, East, West. Mother's Milk Is Still The Best.

I would like to preface this post with saying that I am an ardent supporter of breastfeeding... and come to think of it, formula feeding too!

I'm also generally NOT a prude, nor do I think that there should be any shame or indecency associated with feeding one's child, but something happened the other day that struck me as funny and I just had to share.

I've been trying to get involved with this great parents' group in our area. As you can imagine it's mostly British mums and dads. They have been welcoming, but in a less whole-hearted and gregarious way than I'm used to in Texas.

It's not their fault. The Brits just tend to be more reserved and aren't so keen on inviting strangers "to drop by anytime" for play dates and mutual bitching, so I'm fine that things are still rather formal.

However there's one mom that I've gotten to know really well, but in a most unconventional manner...

The first time I met her, it was at another mom's house. She walked in with her kids and before introductions could be made, she pulled up her shirt to nurse her baby. No cover up or even a pretense of one.

The conversation merely pressed forward and she had to go before I could catch her name.

This happened again on the two or three other occasions I've run into her. Last time, we were in a public place and she got so caught up in the conversation that she (absent-mindedly) left her breast exposed well after her son had unlatched and nodded off.

This is all very funny to me, but only because I still don't even know her name.

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In any case, if you were wondering about the rest of the world's attitude towards nursing mothers. The answer is... there isn't one.

(Well, at least not in my London circles.)

It makes me cringe to even think about all those times I had to squeeze into an ill-fitting fitting room to feed my son...

Or the time, I had to apologize for having to pump at work...

Or my friend that was asked to leave the dinner table because what she and her baby were doing was "gross"...

TGIF

Wow, there was a time when that phrase meant something to me...

"Whew-hew, it's the weekend. No more work. Two days to lay by the pool, go out, do nothing..."

These days the only difference between Saturday and, let's say Tuesday, it that my husband is home (which is very exciting) and people expect us to do stuff with them. Otherwise, my days pretty much run together. Especially since I tend to live life one play date at a time...

There are a few other instances of things of which I've become blissfully oblivious. For instance, last week, I was driving home from my parents' house and going along the highway at an even clip, until traffic came to a complete and total STANDSTILL.

What?! There was no construction. No accidents. No emergency vehicles speeding by.

I eyed the clock on the dash, which read 4:30. It was a bright and sunny Friday afternoon and the standstill was from the thousands of cars suddenly flooding the freeways. It was RUSH HOUR...

"Oh yeah," I thought to myself, "I forgot all about rush hour!"

That's what happens when you never really have to leave the suburbs... or your house, for that matter. An hour and a half and three detours later, I made it home from a trip that usually takes about 45 minutes non-stop.

Then, there are the things that I've sadly forgotten, like the luxury of the business lunch. Earlier this week, Self-Made Mom touched on one of the downsides to lunching with colleagues (one word: "Crackberry"). I admit that I once found business lunches with the likes of media reps and publishers to be tedious and an infringement on my precious time, too. Well, I'm here to tell you about the alternative... lunching with your toddler and his colleagues.

This week, my friends and I took our 1-year-olds to the Wiggly Play Center. (What? I TOLD you I was going...) After a very exciting and exhausting morning of "shaking our sillies out", we decide to forgo dining at the "Yummy Yummy Cafe" and grab lunch at one of the many, many other dining establishments nearby.

We chose a suitable location, called ahead for a table for "four adults and three highchairs", and took our mommy-mobile caravan on the road. When we arrived, we found that they had placed us in the very back corner (very smart). We situated ourselves and the kids immediately began taking turns going postal.

After receiving plenty of compliments on how well he ate his table food, my son thought, "I'll show them" (ha-ha) and proceeded to throw his food every which way but in his mouth. Little People were also flying in the air. (I should clarify they were Fisher-Price Little People, not actual people) Nearing nap time, the kids were restless and wanting to be anywhere besides the confines of a highchair.

Shortly thereafter, my friend's husband who works nearby joined our group. Fresh from some very important business meeting with "the consultants", he was completely taken aback by the sight that greeted him... Three disheveled moms and three little boys making baby small talk with one another at the top of their little lungs.

While I tried to distract one of the other kids with a game of Peek-a-Boo, my son took a spoon off of my plate and used it to eat some food off of the poor guy's plate. Then, my son became quite fascinated with the cell phone hanging from his belt and tried to STEAL it from him... and all this man wanted was a quiet, peaceful lunch with his wife and his kid. He hardly expected their buddies to tag along.

Did I mention that we were completely surrounded by large groups of business-attired folks, making uninterrupted adult small talk and nibbling daintily on their food. No one was looking for a speedy escape or begging the waiter to make theirs "to go" and the check, PLEASE!!! No messy bibs. No toys in tow. No noses to wipe. Just nice people taking their time and trying not to disapprovingly gawk at us.

I would gladly fight rush hour traffic on a Monday to get an hour or two in the middle of the day to lunch at the "big kids" table...even if it is with a media rep.

Photo 1 by traveller2020
Photo 2 by Jenblossom

This Mommy War

As you probably guessed from my post on my recent mommy meltdown, I'm still at odds (with myself) about quitting my job.

I was raised with the notion that when it comes to be my time to be a mom, I would naturally become a "working mom." Never gave it a second thought. After all, I was raised by one, and all of my friends' moms worked. That's all I knew growing up in the post-feminist 80s and girl-power 90s.

After college, while other girls married their college sweethearts and started families at 21, I went on to receive a Masters Degree. I climbed surely and steadily in my career. I loved my job and I was good at it. Then, I got pregnant...

... and I didn't know what to think.

Naturally, my husband and I were thrilled about our son, but knowing what to do about my career was a toughy. Mommy Wars, nothing. I was more concerned with the war in my head...

"Do I stay or do I go? "

"What will I be missing out on?"

"Will my son forgive me for not being there for him? "

"Did I ever forgive my mother?"

and on, and on, and on...

I struggled with my decision for over a year. Since I really didn't know what I wanted to do (even after I saw those sweet baby brown eyes looking up at me), I did tours of duty in both camps and in between. I went from maternity leave to "working mom" to "working-from-home mom" to "full-time stay-at-home mom" over the course of nine months.

Eventually, my husband and I realized that it was vital to our marriage to have one of us taking care of the household. We both had crazy-busy careers that would have ensured a life of take-out, expensive day care, and hectic weekends of "trying to get it all in"...

Since my husband made about triple what I did, economically it was an easy choice to decide who would be doing the sacrificing...

That's not to say that I don't have moments of peace and satisfaction. After all, my son and I wake up every day and get to do exactly what we feel like doing. It's nice work if you can get it, but there are days when I just want to cry-- especially as it gets harder to deal with the tantrums and the never-ending demands. I feel like someone else could be doing a better job here, and what the hell am I doing?

I know, I know... grass is always greener..., time and distance makes you forget the bad times and reminisce too fondly about the good times... blah, blah, blah.

When being a mom and keeping the house in order is my life's work and I have nothing more to show for it than a screaming, crying, tortured soul rolling around on the dirty, dirty, dirty floor, there are not enough Mother's Day bouquets or macaroni art in the world to make me feel that I made the right choice.

I'll admit that I get a twinge of green whenever I hear about my friends' raises and promotions. I envy my best friend's stories about her newest accounts won and all the praise and recognition she gets at work. I even get annoyed with my husband when he talks too much about work...

...ESPECIALLY when he goes from complaining about being "under-utilized" and getting too much "down time" one week to complaining about being over-worked and unable to "surf the 'net" as much the very next.

When he kept saying that he'd rather be at home working on his own projects, I told him I am MORE than willing to trade places, but being the stay-at-home parent goes beyond "just taking care of the kid".... if that's even possible.

As I enumerated all of the other tasks that come with running our household (i.e. remembering to running out in the middle of the day to buy birthday gifts for my ungrateful in-laws, managing our social calendar, doing the grocery shopping, etc.), he balked and decided it was easier to stop complaining.

I know that going back to work would mean missing the great moments with my son. Like when we decide to go for a late afternoon swim and the indoor pool at my gym is all ours. Or, seeing how happy he is when he learns something new or gets to climb on the stuff at Gymboree. I'd miss the way his face lights up when he sees his friend. I'd miss the three hour play dates where I don't even wear a watch 'cuz we have no where in particular to be... no conference calls, no meetings, no deadlines...

I don't think I'll ever be 100% happy with any choice I make, but at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that my husband is completely intimidated by what this "stay at home mommy business" entails.

Maybe I'll even get some more "thank you's".