Don't Step on My Fuzzy Pink Slippers

Earlier in the year, there was great brew-ha-ha over the latest in the so-called "Mommy Wars". (More like publishing wars, if you ask me, but you didn't. Smirk!)

I admit that when Leslie Bennetts' book, The Feminine Mistake: Are We Giving Up Too Much?, first came out, my nose got bent out of shape about it, too. "Those are my choices she's attacking," I huffed and puffed upon my first impressions of the book, but I eventually got over it as I learned more about her message.

Although the word "Mistake", ever so bold in the title, is off-putting, it actually takes a very pragmatic look at the "Opt-out Revolution", and its subsequent economic pitfalls for women. I see her point of view, but probably would have kindly suggested another title.

Then, earlier this week, I stumbled upon a claim made by University of Texas prof, Gretchen Ritter, that "the stay-at-home mother movement is BAD for society". Mmmm-kay....

I couldn't track down the original July 2004 article from the Austin American-Statesman, but according to its rebuttal on WorldNetDaily, she states this without the benefit of empirical or anecdotal evidence. She simply makes "points" such as mothers choosing to stay home "deny fathers the chance to be involved".

Based on this reasoning, does that imply that putting kids in daycare means that neither parent gets to be involved? (Please note: I'm NOT saying that putting kids in daycare makes you a bad parent. I'm merely following her "reasoning"...)

She goes on to say that SAHMs "stress children out". Ms. Ritter, does THIS look like a "stressed out kid" to you?

While I initially found both of these writers irritating and misguided, (Note I said "initially", Ms. Bennetts. We're cool, now. But, you, Ms. Ritter. Bah!)...

Anyhoo... while I initially found both of these writers irritating and misguided, I could simply ignore them because their attacks weren't personally directed at me. Rather, they were writing to a general group in society, but didn't come any closer to me or my life than my TV or computer screen, which I could easily turn off/ tune out.

It was not, however, as easy to ignore the pompous ass standing in my living room spouting drivel about how I ought to MONETIZE MY BLOG so that my work-loving husband could retire at 37. Never mind that my husband has no interest in retiring... ever, but apparently, I should be doing something to "support my family," you know... financially.

"I, uhh, know this guy that makes more money with his blog then he did as an engineer," he insisted, 'Why can't YOU do that?'"

SEETHING. HOT. BLOOD. BOILING TO EARS.

This was my husband's college roommate and my grievances against him run long and deep, but for your sake, dear Internet, I'll keep them brief. He can be a pretty a decent guy in passing, but conversations with him tend to annoy me. Jumping from random topic to random topic, he tries to sound more informed than he actually is. He usually ends up sounding arrogant and priggish instead.

During his last visit, I was still working at the time and my husband was between jobs and home taking care of our son. Within two seconds of my arrival from my glamorous job in advertising, he started bombarding me with questions like...

"What's the point of advertising?"
"Why does it cost so much?"
"Could you explain branding to me? I don't get it"
"Why can't you just outsource creative to India?"

.... and the rest of the visit went downhill from there.

He had recently graduated with an MBA from a well-know university, but judging from this conversation I cannot speak highly of their business program.

He was in town again this weekend and wanted to drop by and see us. (Bleck!) I kindly suggested to my husband that they just meet OUT somewhere for lunch, because I was in no mood to put up with his friend today. NO MOOD!

I'm supportive and respectful of my husband's friendships, but I reserve the right to avoid people that irritate me. This particular friend just happens to be one of this people, but who am I to stand in the way.

With our son down for his afternoon nap and my latest Netflix ready to be played, I was fine with my husband spending the afternoon with his buddy.

"Hang out. Go wherever you want. Talk as long as you want," I said, "I just don't want to be around him. Not today."

Two hours later, I get a phone call from my husband. They were a block away from the house and he just wanted to "warn me that he was coming over"...

Wearing my Sunday Best (i.e. hot pink lounging pants and a tank top that I wouldn't answer the door in ) and in a foul mood, I had two minutes to look decent and be the smiling, hospitable housewife.

My dark mood got darker as he started in on "why aren't you making any money to support your family?" As my husband and I explained that I currently have a job. A BIG one. It's the day-to-day care of our child and our household, but he didn't get it and pressed forward...

...insulting my choices, oblivious to what it takes to be a mom, implying I should be more concerned with making money for my family rather than taking care of them, and so forth.

Didn't I already mention I was in no mood that day?

Well, I wasn't. I didn't want to get into a debate about monetizing my blog (a la BlogHer) just because someone he knows made it big as a blogger 10 years ago. I was beyond annoyed by having to justify my very personal choice to become a SAHM to someone who only cares about status and money. I was beyond bored listening to him brag about all of his Facebook "friends". (He's in his 30s, by the way...)

I wear my emotions as honestly and outwardly in real life as I do on this blog, and was about to blow after nearly an hour of this. I pulled Hubby aside and told him we were going to have words. They could either be in front of his pal or in private, he chooses...

"Umm, if I didn't want to see him at lunch, OUT at a restaurant, why the HELL would I want him IN MY HOME?"

"I know. I know, but I thought we could just hang out in the study and be out of your way..."

"I WAS IN THE STUDY before you showed up with him.... and furthermore, where to you get off calling me TWO SECOND before you arrive at MY HOME on a SUNDAY with someone I CAN'T STAND and tell me to look presentable. ASS!"

"I brought you home Indian food."

"ASS!"

I didn't care that his friend and I disagreed. I'm all for differing opinions. To Ms. Ritter, I'm a subversive. I am a fool and headed towards a financial quagmire according to Ms. Bennetts. I'm okay with that. Hurrah!

I'm even secure enough to recognize that I don't have to like everyone that my husband likes. In fact, it's better that he have some of his own friends and I'm all for him spending time with them. Yea!

However, disturbing the peace and sanctity of my Sunday afternoon to belittle and insult me in my own home is another thing entirely... especially when it was supposed to be a "fuzzy pink slipper" kind of day.


photo by Meytav

Peace Be With You

A working mom friend of mine called and asked to schedule a play date for our boys on her day off. I was pleasantly surprised, but a bit shocked and honored that she'd want to spend her day off with us. Having been one once upon a time, I know how very precious a day off is to a working mom.

We met at the indoor playground in the mall (because it never stops raining here), then had lovely lunch together. We talked about the kids and what new skills each has acquired recently. Once that conversation grew stale, I asked her about work, which she very obviously enjoys, and her face light up. She excitedly went into a lengthy discussion about her upcoming business trips and some recent hiring at her firm, followed by some woe over being away from her family so often...

I entirely wasn't sure if that last part was for my sake or hers. For the record, I don't believe that the "Mommy Wars" exist either. In fact, I find that most moms go out of their way to be supportive of one another. Whenever I talk to my "working moms" friends, they seem obliged to make some sort of neutralizing statement like this after talking about their jobs... as if it's not okay to be a mom and like your job. Likewise, I make a conscientious effort to take on a chipper, even tone when making blithe remarks like, "Well, you have such a great nanny that your family really likes. I hear that's pretty hard to come by. You are so lucky".

What I really want to say is, "Stop feeling guilty/Apologizing for yourself. Your kid is happy, healthy, and just taught my kid how to say 'milk' and 'duck'. He is obviously thriving under your excellent parenting/working juggling skills."

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".

Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm not the only one!!!

Last week was the most difficult, exhausting, frustrating week for me. In addition all the awful things happening out there, there's been a war brewing at home and I'm whipped.

It seems that my sweet, darling, well-behaved, easy-peasy, chilled-out, laid-back son has been possessed. How else can I explain the overnight 180 into a volatile, unpredictable, discontented teetering ball of energy?

It's true. Something has gotten into him and it's bad enough that even the playgroup mommies noticed and told him to "cheer up" as we left the park on Friday...

I used to know exactly how to keep him happy, entertained, and satisfied, and now it seems like there's NOTHING I can do to please him. Tantrum have become a major staple of our day, rather than the exception, and they are unusually over the most ridiculous, impossible things no one can control like his toys not being able to stand on their heads (hello, rules of gravity) or the refrigerator not moving when he pushes it...

It's bad enough that to have to tell an irrational person, "no", but then there's the being trapped in my house, where I can't eat, launder, cook, clean, organize, potty, or put away until my son's sleeps because he is RIGHT THERE as soon as I so much as crack open the fridge, closet, or cabinet to get something...

Our son likes to get into everything and gets soooo frustrated when I won't let him hurt himself. Within seconds, he is unloading all of the glass-jarred jams and jellies from the fridge door or trying to pull down a toaster oven on to his head. He goes ballistic if I won't let him play in the trash cans or crawl into the dishwasher to get at the steak knives. No interest in spoons or plastic bowls, just the stuff that will poke his eyes out...

I get so caught up in just keeping him safe and sound during the day, that I forget the most obvious things I mommy should know.

...like, uh, putting sunscreen on my son before he goes to the park or a jacket when it's cold outside... What kind of mom am I????

Each day as my husband (thankfully) takes over his bedtime routine, I collapse, exhausted and emotionally drained, and ask myself, "...and I left my job for THIS?'

My awesome job where I was praised constantly, people listened when I talked, and I knew exactly what I was doing (and even if I didn't, someone was always there to tell me what to do).

I never once doubted whether or not I was good at my job or felt any guilt over it. I left my career which I WAS GOOD AT to be in this nebulous world of self-doubt, isolation, and guilt... this world where I am at the whim of a 12 month old...WHY????"

One afternoon, as he was down for his nap, I called a friend to vent, but she was generally unsympathetic. Next, I called my husband and blubbered endlessly about being an awful mother, having no one to turn to, blah, blah...

I begged him to "puh-lease, come home", but no luck. I was on my own. Completely and totally on my own....

That is until I logged on and found this from a favorite blog of yours and mine, amalah . com

Noah's throwing a million tantrums a day, probably because he feels like shit and isn't sleeping well either, but after the 999,999th hissyfit of the day my sympathy is ALL TAPPED OUT. Seriously, son. An inability to get the fridge magnets lined up precisely to your liking is no reason to get all freaking nuclear and screamy.

Yes! Yes! Yes! I'm not the only one!!! Thanks so much for that,. You have no idea how much that made me feel better... even if it sounds like you're having a rought time too.