Still Drinking Coffee

It’s almost 8:30, and I’m still drinking coffee. I’m soooo tired. I’m soooo stupid.

This is worse than college: I stay up all night, I regret it the next morning, but then I do it again.

All because I am desperate for a couple hours to myself.

Which are crucial. Not enough - and often, I still am not totally relaxing - I remain “interruptible” - Ariel Gore in her book The Mother Trip provides the insight that mothers are constantly interruptible, but we need time to be uninterruptible - it was really helpful to read her words and know that my constant feeling of being on call, on high alert, just ON - 24 hours a day - is not because there’s something crazy about ME. It’s commonplace, it’s hormonal, it’s motherhood.

It’s hard to explain to others that only when my kids are sleeping - and I know they’re asleep for at least half an hour, solid - can I come close to getting absorbed in something else - yoga, intimacy, writing, things that only have a benefit when you’re fully present and not leaving one ear perked like a satellite dish toward the children’s room.

Of course, by the end of the night, when they are finally both truly asleep - usually 10 p.m. - the last thing I feel like doing is yoga, intimacy, or writing. I want to veg. I want to watch bad television. I want to sleep. I want to read cheesy blogs. I don’t want to engage in anything that requires me to be thoughtful, soulful, or energetic. I have nothing left to give at that point. My body has been a source of nourishment, caring, and entertainment since 7 that morning - it wants a break.

So my relationships are suffering - long distance ones, that require phone calls - close ones, that require quality one-on-one interaction. Not to mention, my relationship with myself. Of course, the last thing I need right now is to grow distant from the ones I love. Again, Gore advocates for mothers to make time for things like sleep and meditation and sex - but god, it’s hard.

Sleep is so boring. And meditation and sex - though both can be reviving - require focus. Can I just chill with the Netflix for a good 48 hours? With some ice cream and vino, while someone gives me a massage, does my nails, trims my hair, takes notes for me when a thought of worth actually does crop up, a little crocus amid the weedy landscape that is my untended brain?

If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend Gore’s book and her site, hipmama.com. I don’t think I am at all a “hip” “mama” but it’s nice to know hip mamas exist out there. Mothers are not just saggy, docile, vapid yuppies in ill-fitting jeans driving SUVs badly. They are cool and creative and spiritual and sexual and intellectual and responsible for the human race’s various incarnations. They are not a sub-group for political pundits to try and buttonhole, nor are they a ‘they’ to be tapped and targeted by marketers.

More on that later - probably on my new blog…

The Mom Purse

When I was little, it seemed like every mom had a “Mom Purse”. You know it - it’s larger than seems necessary, and full of random crap. The stuff of MacGyver’s dreams - a rubber band here, some toothpicks there, a little lotion, some tissues, a few bottles of pills (just in case). Oh, and of course the abundance of receipts and miscellaneous scraps of paper stuffed into (and falling out of) the checkbook. Change dancing around the bottom of the bag.

Addicted to organizing as I am, I never thought I would have one of these clutter-traps. Turns out I was wrong. I think it’s a rite of passage - once you get your “Mom Purse” you’re officially an adult. I just discovered I have one. Complete randomness and chaos took over the second I bought one of those oversized bags. It’s sad, really…but also allows me many opportunities for reorganizing, which is fun…so maybe not all bad. Am I alone in the battle of the bag? Do you have a “Mom Purse”, and are you willing to admit it? What’s the strangest thing you’ve found in there?

 

Obama to a Two Year Old

Saturday, we scarfed some free food at the little hut of Obama followers signing up volunteers.

I was a bit surprised by the overwhelming majority of older white folk…

Still, we got free stickers, cookies, and watermelon, and to my toddler, that was great.

But trying to explain what was going on was hard.

It kind of went like this:

I show her the word on the sticker. “Obama.”

Obana?
Yes, he’s a man who wants to be president. Of our country.
Our country?
Yes, the country we live in.
We live in?
America.
Am-er-ica?
Yes.
Ok.

Later, she points at the sticker again: What is it?
Obama.
Obana?
Yes. He will maybe be president. He will try.
Pres-dent?
Yes, in charge. We will all vote - choose - who gets to be in charge of our country.
Ok.

Later, again pointing to the sticker: Obana? He maybe pee in potty?

I can see the headlines now…Of course, her big thing right now is trying to pee in the potty. It’s the greatest achievement she can imagine.

Burning Man…Avec Toddler

I love that this parent took his kid to the Burning Man festival - nice to know there are models of parenthood that involve adventure and art and wildness, not just “Mom jeans” and playgroups.

I do want to complain that, much as part of me would love to go to this festival, I don’t get why it has to be a burning “man” - and since I failed in my attempts to become a hippie, I have a feeling I really wouldn’t fit in.

I also really like clean toilets.

Women’s Work Revisited

A friend of mine wrote:

“It’s so incredible what women do.  I find it metaphorically resonant that a pregnant woman looks like she’s just sitting on the couch, but she’s actually exhausting herself constructing a human being.  The laborious process of growing a human is analogous to how women’s work is seen”  (Ani Difranco from May/June Mothering mag).

Add to this idea:  A woman who looks like she is just taking the kids for a walk, just nursing the baby, just giving her child a snack - is exhausting herself creating and nurturing human beings.  How important!

And also, I don’t think of myself as a poor-me feminist, but I do agree that women’s work (in all spheres/settings: factories, fields, offices, homes) is a giant engine that is quietly turning the world, just like a pregnant mama is quietly churning a babe. Isn’t this interesting?  Why are women so humble about their achievements?

So often I find myself talking down my mother-work, speaking about my being with my children - feeding, instructing, playing with, etc. - either by

a) Not even mentioning these things in conversation, because it would seem akin to brushing my teeth - as in, “What did you do today?” “Oh, I brushed my teeth.”

b) Prefacing with “I was only” as if these things aren’t enough - though nursing a baby, for instance, is exhausting and time-consuming and requires attention - I may multitask - but that’s me being crazy - if I didn’t walk the dog/clean/type/read/read aloud while nursing, I wouldn’t be lazy…

A Taoist Approach to Parenting

Things get hard when I fight them.

I just want to get past them. I don’t want them to exist. I hate them.

All of these approaches turn tasks into boulders, thick and heavy and impossible, as I try to shove them out of the way.

While this post sat here, I read this:

Eckhart Tolle, author of A New Earth, Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose, says that stress can be defined as wanting the present moment to be different than it is. Dr. Dr. David Simon, co-director of the Chopra Center for Wellbeing in Southern California, agrees. He says that stress is caused by anything getting in the way of our desires.

It’s especially hard, I find, when the Things in the Way are human beings - and when these human beings happen to be my beloved children.

Nothing gets me more frustrated than trying to get my two -year-old to do something she doesn’t want to do, like put her shoes on, pick up trash, eat, follow me up a hill - oh, it could be anything. We can’t tell if she is by nature a contrarian, or if it’s just her age (both her father and I tend to be stubbornly contrary, so if in her nature, would not be surprising) - but it is SO annoying. And it’s annoying because I face the tasks of Cleaning Up, Getting From Point A to B, Leaving the House, etc., - transition tasks - boring tasks - as themselves Pains in the Ass.

(Of course, I can hear that freaking Spoonful of Sugar whirring in the background, and it d o e s  n o t  h e l p.)

Fighting a toddler is like shoving your shoulder against a giant rock. It doesn’t work. It gets harder the more you push. I get angrier the harder it gets. I don’t want to have to work with her. I don’t want to have to -

- wait, who is sounding like a toddler now!!???

So, if taking a Taoist/Buddhist approach to these tasks that I am currently fighting so much, I think the antidote is the following:

1) Stop trying, pushing, forcing. If I think about it, toddler tends to willingly join in when I am going about my business. It may be that I need to let her join in - and let her opt out, and not stress about whether or not she is ‘doing her duty’ and if I’m ‘tough enough.’ It may also be that the alternatives to her cooperating will have to involve me waiting - doing something on my own, perhaps, but waiting.

As in, “You need to pick up your trash. I am going to go write on the computer. When you have picked up your trash, we can eat cookies and play games together.” If she dawdles, instead of yelling/steaming/boiling/pickling with frustration, I will happily be writing - and maybe she’ll do it. I mean, it may take time, but… fighting her does nothing.

2) Slow down, breathe. In order to do this, I need, for right now, to throw schedules and being on time out the window. Not always practical, but it will have to do for now. Build in extra time for everything. Go slowly. Take my time.

3) Give up the expectation and desire for total control. This may sound an awful parenting strategy, but I don’t mean it like I’m going to stop discipline or expectations. I mean that, I am not living alone. I live with a partner and an animal and children, and I can’t control them all the time. I can’t do things at my own pace. I can’t do things at will. Neither can they. It’s like driving in traffic. Everyone has to compromise and follow some agreed-upon rules so that we don’t crash into each other while doing our own thing.

Actually, the Tao te Ching makes an interesting parenting manual. I must revisit…

Bearing without possessing,
Nurturing without taming,
Shaping without forcing,
This is harmony.

Take a Break

What if I took a break this year?

Took a break - broke myself of the habit of - broke out - for a whole year - of needing to achieve something?

What if I took a break from guilt?

What if I broke myself of the need to accomplish anything this year?

What if I just enjoyed myself, took pleasure in my life, relaxed in the moment, relished my children and relationships, didn’t face each day with the burden of needing to do something Big, feeling bitter and guilty by the end of the day that I had done nothing worthy?

See, especially as I approached my birthday this year, I’ve been struggling hard with the sense that my life is going by so fast and I’m doing nothing with it, and I’d better finish those manuscripts and get published and do some art and focus so I can finish projects to have Something to Show for Myself, some evidence of adequacy, some great career or good work begun that will use all my skills and maximize my talents and give back and balance out my negative footprints and contribute something to the greater good and fulfill all my promise…

Everyday I am mentally straining against the thick heaving tide of life to Do Something. It’s extremely tiring.

What if I just gave up?

What sweet relief - how decadent and indulgent and selfish but oh, what a delicious prospect. What if I just gave myself one year to live happily, without needing Make the Most of It?

Somehow, I feel that following my bliss, indulging in what pleases me, will somehow make me more productive in the long run. And there’s something very Taoist about not trying to do things (wu wei) that adds some principled morality to the idea.

But would it be a cop out? Would I be lazy, lacking ambition and follow through? Would it mean a wasted year? Is this an excuse to not believe enough in myself to work hard to achieve things?

Could I do it? Give myself permission to just raise my kids and do my work and love my husband and weed the garden and read books and watch movies and swim in the sunshine and be myself?

DIY? LFE vs. LFE

“WHY do you always have to learn everything the HARD way instead of LISTENING to others? WHY do you have to do it yourself?”

My mother was ANGRY.

So was I. But she was completely right: My life is a study in DIY/LFE - Learning from Experience vs. Learning from Elders.

My 60s-bred dad taught me to Question Authority.

I tend to Question Everything.

Case in point: Thimbles. They exist for a reason. I discovered this, not by trusting the wisdom of the ages and wearing one before embarking on a sewing project that involved thick brocade, but by going footloose and thumb free.

I ended up with a broken piece of needle imbedded beneath my thumbnail. I ended up in the dr office for an extraction that ouch, yuck, ai yi yi, ooh, will cause me to testify to the masses: YES, thimbles, use them! I heartily advocate thimbles! I’m a thimble fan!

Meanwhile, my mother rolls her eyes in exasperation. “DUH,” she would say, if she were me.

Now, this is just one example of me just foregoing the Usual Procedures of Things, ignoring Conventional Wisdom, because I don’t see the obvious need. I’m suspicious that society has unnecessary habits. I get annoyed when people follow the rules blindly without understanding why…

Other instances involve not wearing underwear, not checking the oil in my car, art projects (some successful, some not), and other large-life things where my attitude was, Heck, I can do this my way; it can’t be that hard; why not?

This attitude is exactly what makes me excellent at analyzing processes at work and streamlining them - finding better, faster, quicker ways to do a job, because I question the current procedure in ways others just wouldn’t, because they go along with This is The Way It’s Done and Always Has Been Done. I have been valued for this capacity for critical judgment. I honed it doing critical theory papers in college and grad school.

What hurt when my mother yelled at me was that I don’t do this on purpose - it’s like there’s some instinctual Try it Yourself and Prove it Right/Wrong instinct in me that sends me riding bareback over the plains of experience - sometimes toward disaster; sometimes toward brilliance.

Of course, for my mother, her role is to protect me - not to let me test the Fire is Hot and Burns rule by searing my flesh over the stove, but to teach me to listen and to trust her to avoid that kind of pain. Obviously, somewhere along the line, as happens with all kids, I think, I discovered that one of mother’s rules or laws wasn’t as true as she had advertised.

So then I had to question everything she said.

Some things were very true. Some not. And how else to know but to test them? Good old trial and error?

But of course, this can take a lot more time and pain that necessary. We read history in order not to repeat it.

So when exactly should I test authority, and when should I trust it?

How do I decide and discern?

What Defines “Work”?

One of the problems I have anytime people are trying to quantify a mother’s work is that I think it’s basically impossible. (Last Sunday’s NY TImes article on “equal parenting” is sure causing quite a stir among couples I know…)

I am, you might say, officially “off duty” at 10:43 at night - both kids asleep - and yet, if I were a sitter, I’d still be getting paid, and my ear is cocked, my boobs at the ready should they be needed, etc.

That is, I very rarely “get off work.”

Is it possible to walk off the job? To take a break? Without putting the kids in danger? I’m not so sure. There are times when I want to say to my partner, “You know what? The diapers are full, everyone’s hungry and bored, no one wants to sleep, but I really want to go read a book up a tree while drinking colt 45 - see ya!”

But I don’t.

The other problem with the whole “parenting as work thing” is that it’s not always totally pure work - kind of like when you’re in the office and surfing the web. It’s enjoyable loafing that kind of counts as work, because heck, you’re putting in your time at the desk and no doubt, you need to know what’s going on in the world, too, don’t you?

So yeah, I have “playdates” and “coffee” and “pool time,” during which I have a lot of fun with other people and / or my kids, and that is very hard to call work at all, because I’m just living, it’s not “work.”

Which makes me sad, really, because when did “work” become something so forced, formal, external, disconnected? Somewhere as humans moved from being hunter-gatherers and horticulturalists whose work and play blended together, religion and food-gathering part of the same activity, we got more and more removed from how we obtained our food, we ended up typing in cubes…

Being a parent can be work, it can also be pleasure, and trying to account for it, while I get the intention, is trying to take something amazing and amorphous and screw it into a cube that comes from a whole separate kind of ideology. Instead, why don’t we try to make “work” fit into the parenting/domestic/female-type idea of Being? Why don’t we try to integrate what we do with who we are and how we live, as opposed to trying to fit the latter into what we do?

Am I making sense? I feel like it’s “feminist” to quantify “mother” “work” - but I think that’s a very superficial assumption. It’s far more feminist to envision a reversal, an upheaval of the whole stratified, rigidified system of “workers” in our capitalist society.

Revolution, you know, begins at home.

Why Single Parents Will Change the World

It’s because men I know raised by single or mostly single parents end up being Awesome Husbands.

Why? Because

a) they have to learn to do things around the house/pick up the slack, cooking, cleaning, taking care of themselves/siblings instead of having a parent (mother) doing it for them

b) they don’t get exposed to screwed up male-female patterns of privilege that exist in most marriages

My ex’s mother, for instance, walked out on her family when he was around 11. It was sad and tragic. The young boy suddenly was cooking dinner for his father and sibling, had to make money for his own clothes, do his own laundry, clean the house, watch his sister - basically, his dad forced him to take the place of the missing mother.

But I benefited because in a relationship where domestic chores don’t have a gender attached to them, when it’s just What You Do to keep the house clean and organized, to make food and do laundry, to look after other people, to be considerate and caring, when that is second nature because you had to do it growing up - well, lord, it is a breath of fresh air to any woman.

But it’s that kind of equality in the domestic sphere that needs to happen. It’s not enough that women are rocking it in the workplace sphere - the balance has to occur in the home as well. And this means that something has to change for men - for the way we raise our sons - single parents or not.

I look at my little boy. He is my mission.

Single parents have to do it by default. But more than that, single parents themselves break down gender barriers - mothers work, fathers clean - there’s no division of labor, they have to do everything (my mom was a single parent for a while; she was amazing). Boys, like girls, take their cues from what their parents do. If their mother does all the cleaning and their dad doesn’t, that will seep in, no matter how much the mom (!) tries to get them to clean up. Why should the son clean up if dad doesn’t?

If we can, let the rest of us do it by choice. Nothing so harsh as making our boys serve us pot roast the way my poor ex had to - but by expecting, requiring, everyone in the home to pick up after themselves equally.

And that includes the husbands.