Are you mom enough?

"The strength of
motherhood is greater
than natural laws."
- Barbara Kingsolver. 

Time magazine's latest cover - as one other blogger put it, "I was going to write a post about Time's cover and then realized everyone and her sister already had." True that. I don't have much to add except my disgust over their screaming headline, more than anything, and how my version of "Are you mom enough?" has little if anything to do with extended breastfeeding and attachment parenting.

My version came to me in a vision the other night when I was clipping my son's toenails, of all things: thinking, I am mom enough because I can do this without throwing up into the trashcan. I'm sure Time wasn't thinking about how gross and sometimes downright odd 8-year-old boys can be.

If only their article read something like this instead: "You'll know you're mom enough when you can..."

• hold a vomiting toddler whose poor little body is so tired and sick he falls asleep the minute his head hits the pillow...

• you've long traded in your fancy sweaters for the ones that are covered in spit-up and boogers, and you like it...

• you can withstand hearing all of your children whining, crying, screaming and yelling "Mom mom mom mom mom" 800 times in a row without losing your mind...

• you keep your cool despite your toddler going into full-blown meltdown mode in the grocery store over a single grape...

• you aren't phased when your child comes to you and says, "Mom, I found this booger," extending a finger for you to see the evidence...

• still return to church even after your newborn had a noisy blowout during a silent part of the service...

• endure watching the same Thomas the Train episode on auto play for an entire 800-mile car ride...

• and, as one person put it, "Get a baby out of your uterus and then take care of it." Yep, pretty much!

We need to remember that we can be friends with people who think differently than we do, that we should be friends with people who have a different mindset, instead of sealing ourselves inside a bubble. We can learn from each other, from our mistakes, and get - and receive - support from people who have been there. As moms, we will probably always judge each other's choices, but Time's headline doesn't help - and only adds gasoline to the blaze. Don't buy into it, ladies - don't let them, or anyone else, polarize us like that - because in the end, no matter what our choices are or how much they differ, ultimately some things will always be the same.

Stay-at-home-moms: Would you send your kid to daycare?

Before we even get started on this one, I'm going to say one thing: If someone says "Don't judge," just remember: we all judge. At one point in time you have judged someone, and if you say you haven't, you're probably not telling the truth. I'm sure we've all judged moms who circumcise their sons, who formula-feed their babies, who fully (or don't) vaccinate, women with large families, those who have epidurals;  the hot-button issues run the gamut and everyone has an opinion. Just keep that in mind.

I couldn't help but notice the new trend among some mothers I know - sending the kids to daycare. That in an of itself isn't revolutionary; one of them is a working mom who just had her second baby. She's a teacher, gets summers and breaks off, and sends her 2 1/2 year old to day care. So what?

The other mom does, too. But she's a stay-at-home-mom. In fact, her three-year-old has been in daycare a few days a week since her youngest was born almost a year ago.

So yeah, I guess I'm judging.

Wouldn't it be nice to drop so and so off so I could actually do something for a change? Yeah. That would be nice.

Then I think back - I put my oldest two in preschool 2 1/2 hours a day, three days a week, but is that the same?

I do think in some ways that preschool and daycare are different: most preschools are only a few hours a week, whereas daycare time tends to be several hours every day or at least several days a week. I felt that sure, all those great things like socialization, blah blah blah were important, and my kids were enrolled in a great program with fantastic teachers. I wanted them to experiences a "rules" setting much like the classroom with similar expectations that they would have in school, and admittedly, it was also good for me, too. So yeah, I can admit that I partly did it because I wanted a break.

But what I found was that much of the time, I admittedly didn't do shit during that break. Sometimes grocery shopping, but certainly not every day. Working out? Yeah, whatever. I don't know about other people; I'm sure some are super-diligent about their time, but I bet more often than not that others fritter away their time much like I did. Now that I have two full time in school, I'm home alone with my youngest, who just turned three. And you know what? I don't want to send him to preschool next year, because we're rather enjoying ourselves at home, doing our thing. And I realized, I can teach him just about as much, maybe more, as he could be learning in preschool.

I don't begrudge any mom who does need to send her kids to daycare because she's single, struggling financially, can't afford not to - but then there are those moms who agree that whatever money spent on daycare sucks up all their income and they have to ask themselves, is it really worth it? Don't get me wrong: I think there are some situations where sending the kids to daycare when you stay at home might be good for a mom's mental health. Someone mentioned taking care of a child with long-term illness, which is probably above and beyond what most of us go through in a typical day. Dealing with depression is another, which might give someone a much-needed break.

But does it become a crutch?

The moms I'm talking about are people I know, and rather intimately. One stays at home during the day and works occasionally in the evenings while her husband watches the kids. She's well-adjusted, watches a lot of Ellen, and sheepishly admits to sending her daughter a few days a week - presumably so she can run errands and make her life easier with the youngest (and watch more Ellen). The other has expressed her interest in keeping up her tenure and seniority at her teaching job, and I think therefore feels that she "must" work. Neither are depressed, and we're all living pretty much within the same economic sphere. (Although with two incomes I know they can well afford the house and two cars they bought this past year.) Judge much? Hell yeah.

Because I know that even as a stay-at-home mom, there were times I spent more time focusing on things that were way less important than my children. And they were even at home with me. And suddenly it hits me like a smack in the face: I can't get that time back. And neither can they. That time that they sent their kids off to daycare so they could keep their fantastic (and totally unnecessary) job, run errands or have coffee with the girls and errands, is totally gone and can never be reclaimed.

I judge because I see her tooling around with her husband while neither of them are working, knowing their kid is in daycare. If I were a working parent, I'd absolutely take a hit on the daycare bill to be with my child, even if I'd already paid up. And since I know they pay by the month, it means there are literally weeks at a time - like Christmas and spring break - where they know they'll be off work. And guess what? She's still often in daycare.

I judge because I see how freaking sick that kid is, every time I see her. She hacks and coughs endlessly and always sounds like she's miserable, to the point where others have noticed and expressed concern. And she's already been hospitalized at least once.

Both used daycare as an option when they had their second children, which must be nice - and yet makes me wonder: how are you ever going to get used to the full workload of two kids when they're not together all the time? How unrealistic. I'd love to send them off to my mom's so I can go into town for 20 freaking minutes, go on a date with my husband, or just whatever. But my mom lives six hours away, all my friends have kids of their own to deal with, and my two most reliable babysitters are moving half a dozen states away this summer. So I guess I'll just have to find another way. Because I signed up for this when I decided to have children. Isn't that what motherhood is ultimately all about?

Years ago, moms stayed home and dads worked full time, often detached from their children and the child-rearing responsibilities. Heavy-handed discipline was often the norm, leaving physical bruises and emotional scars. Now with generations of kids practically raised by someone else in a daycare setting, is it any different? No physical scars, but perhaps an emotional void that should, if possible, be filled by a parent? (Stay-at-home dads are the shiznit!) In cases like this, is it mothers who are now detaching themselves, if not only partially?

I know it's not always possible. And I'm sure I'll come off as a hating, judgmental fill in the blank. That's not really my intent to hurt someone, but ... well, there's not really anywhere else to go with that. If you are probably going to be home anyway, then what is the point? Are we really letting ourselves be told - or telling ourselves, maybe - that motherhood is too much, or that we can't do it? Then why did we assume this role?

All those doddering old people that come up to us in stores and smile at our sweet children, telling us "Enjoy it - it'll go so fast!" have a point. They're freaking right.

A broken bubble

Whenever my children behave like heathens and pick up on new, undesirable behaviors, I often like to say that the bubble I sealed my children in apparently has a leak. Unfortunately the leak is getting bigger ... and bigger ...

Recently as I got my kid off the bus, a car sped by, the driver shouting out the window at the person in front of him. Mary had her turn signal on, I saw it; and Cranky Driver must not have seen it when he shouted, "What the *@&% are you doing?" We all looked up - me shooting a furtive, panicked look at the kids.

"Why was that guy yelling?" my son asked. "What did he say?"

I will admit right off that I have a horrible habit when it comes to bad language. (cough). It probably started when I was a kid, unfortunately, although I guess my parent filter was turned on, because I never used it around my parents. In college, one of my professors would often say she really has to work on her swearing because she now had two little kids running around. My husband likes to say that when he first knew me, my foul language habit was a lot worse, and maybe he's right, maybe not. (cough)

I dread the day when my kids will start using four-letter words, although I know it's obviously inevitable: a 30-minute bus ride can unravel nearly a decade of parenting techniques. My son already knows what the "middle finger!" means and that it's bad. Of course because he says it, my daughter repeats it - it sounds a bit weird and unnerving to see a blonde-haired, bespectacled, otherwise-innocent-looking preschooler talking about flipping people off. And to think, right now I'm more concerned about my oldest going around calling everything "stupid!" and that his younger brother will start saying it before he even knows all his shapes and colors.

I can remember saying the word "fart" a lot when I was like 10 years old, within earshot of my younger brothers. My stepmom finally had to tell me to stop. I totally get it now; I don't even like my kids saying the word butt, I'll admit. Right now my son is fixated on anything to do with butts and saying "stupid" all the time. I realize that's pretty tame compared to some words he could be using, but I don't really want Tater Tot walking around calling people stupid, either.

TV that might contain language is severely limited, if it's on at all, so I absolutely face with dread the prospect that they might hear me saying something. I mean, it's not like I openly swear around my kids at all, but rather when I know they're a safe distance away, and even then I probably sound more like Yosemite Sam than anything else. I must say, even when I accidentally gave myself searing second-degree burns while cooking dinner a few weeks ago, somehow I managed to suffer in silence - when really all I wanted to do was let loose with a resounding, "F*****cccccccckkkkkk!"

It pains me to think that kids are exposed to so much at such a young age. Today I was listening to Pomplamoose - cleanest pop band ever - and my daughter wanted me to turn it off. I thought about how there are parents driving around in the world right now, huge bass speakers in the back seat with rap music blasting, their poor toddlers sandwiched in there somehow. How a kid can even process all of that, I don't know.


Ahh, they grow up so fast. Time to go find some duct tape to fix that bubble.

The infertility answer: would you forgo IVF?

I have been blessed to have three children of my own, but as I've mentioned before, know quite a few people in my area who have adopted. Their stories are nothing short of miraculous and heartbreaking.

My neighbor MJ has had several miscarriages, and her adoption story began one day at the office, where someone knew a poor family who was pregnant with their seventh child. Drug and alcohol problems riddled them, and the parents knew they could not keep this new baby. Word got out that perhaps they would consider giving the child up for adoption, and that MJ and her then-husband were interested.

They set up a meeting with the mother, and followed her pregnancy throughout and were there at the delivery to take their new daughter home. It was nothing short of a miracle how they came together in the first place, just on a chance conversation about the friend of a friend.

Melissa, another woman in the neighborhood, has a biological son who was born nearly three months early. While he survived and is doing well, she and her husband decided adoption was the best answer for their second child, a biracial girl with the most beautiful crazy hair and eyes I've ever seen. Melissa has MS, and felt that another pregnancy might exacerbate her symptoms.

Acquaintances Barb and Pete also adopted three children. Their story began with the oldest, whose mother was a substance abuser. She lost custody of her son and then became pregnant again, and Barb and Pete attempted to adopt her daughter as well, in an effort to keep the two children together. The biological mother ignored a court order and took the child back, housing her at a rehab facility with her, and eventually the couple had to give up their painful fight to adopt the sister. Unfortunately, the journey took its toll on them emotionally and financially, and they ended up embroiled in a messy divorce.

Another couple we know, Gwen and John, are currently in the process of adopting twin boys, to join a 5-year-old son they adopted as a newborn. The process has been nothing short of exhausting and frustrating. When I first knew them, we talked a little about their struggles, and they revealed that they had decided to forgo IVF and adopt instead, because of Gwen's previous gynecological health concerns and what the emotional stress might do to her. In the process to adopt the twins, they waited patiently for months, only to find out the paperwork had been sitting on the case worker's desk the entire time. As the court date finally loomed to determine full custody, John was diagnosed with a potentially life-threatening cancerous tumor, and who knows if that will jeopardize their chances once and for all.

I couldn't help but wonder, why not choose IVF? Most people who need help do go through with it, and often are successful. Although surely none of us is Celine Dion, who could afford numerous treatments until they produced not one, but two babies, it is natural to want your own offspring - who look like you and share your traits - that is just human nature. But I found it curious that this couple would not want to even try, considering the technology that is available to them.

Just the other day I heard from an old friend who said the same thing. Samantha and her husband have been trying to conceive for years, and finally decided to start the adoption process. They are attempting to set up an adoption with a teenager, something I find incredibly admirable. Most people want the baby instead - to love, cuddle, feed, all that stuff. Few people, it seems, want to start with someone who is already shaped and molded as a teenaged kid. They too, interestingly, decided not to go the route of IVF.

While admittedly I don't know all the ins and outs of either process, I know they are not easy. They are extremely expensive, and the stress of infertility, repeated IVF attempts and the adoption process can all take their toll on marriages and relationships with others. Knowing so many couples that have struggled through these trials, it drives me absolutely insane to hear people casually say, "Just adopt," as if it happens because you merely snap your fingers and declare it so.

I'm also curious if people like Samantha and Gwen ever regret their decision to not try IVF. Perhaps Gwen, who already has adopted children, is scared how a biological child would change the dynamics in the family - I know I would be. Yet, if it were me, part of me would always wonder - could I have my own child, with a little help? Would I easily get pregnant or would it take forever? I don't know if I could deal with not knowing.

What would you do? Jump at the chance for IVF, pouring your heart and soul (and money) into it, or bravely enter the adoption process?

More reading:
PETA tells people to "curb their reproductive habits" and consider adoption instead

Everything I know about parenting I learned from Erma Bombeck

As I sent my oldest child to school before remembering to wipe the snot off his face, I was again reminded how my parenting style is sort of a cross between tough love meets take no prisoners. The baby has been sick, my oldest has been sick, and my daughter - well, who really knows what's up with her. I look at my children and say to them, "Does your mother ever groom you?" Sigh... I could blame it on the time change, which to my body is like the bad crack trip that never was. But sadly, I think that's the way I am in general - after losing my mind to my children almost seven years ago.

"When my kids become wild and
unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen.
When they're finished, I
climb out."
(Photo: ThinkTV.org)

I first started reading Erma Bombeck when I was a teenager, when parenting was the furthest thing from my mind. I have no idea why, but something about her appealed to me - her sense of humor, her no-nonsense, off-the-cuff way of dealing with situations that meant you either had to sink or swim. Some days, obviously, are spent just treading water, so we're somewhere in the middle. I try to explain this parenting philosophy to my husband, who doesn't quite agree with me. Yet.

I have met few moms like Erma. In today's crazy world where people tend to take themselves too seriously, I think that's a shame. I knew one guy whose mother would tell her carload of kids, "If you don't stop crying, I'll give you something to cry about by ripping your arm off and beating you over the head with the bloody stump." Now, that's what I'm talking about! If you said that in public today, CPS would be over at your house within ten minutes, for sure.

I think if Erma were alive, she'd agree with me on certain quirks about family life: like, when you only have one bathroom in the house, count on everyone in the family needing to pee or poop, all at the same time. Conversely, when I get done changing a big stinker of a diaper, I look across the hall to see my daughter sitting on the toilet. What is up with that? I've learned my exclusively breastfed newborn will never fill his pants as loudly as he does during a quiet moment in church. And I can always count on my daughter to announce to her preschool that "Dad has yellow teeth!"

In typical third-child-syndrome fashion, somehow the baby gets put to bed with mashed potatoes on his face and in his hair, forming a sort of stiff resistance when I lovingly try to stroke his hair as I nurse him to sleep. At least I remembered to wash his hands. I remember the days when I would religiously bathe my oldest every two days, doing the math on how many baths per week that was. When the second came along, I probably relaxed a bit. Now it's, "Yeah, you don't stink too badly. Just put your pajamas on already!" We've discovered my daughter's hair is much easier to brush if you take the ponytail/braids out before bed, instead of in the morning when she looks like Medusa. (And there's a lot less screaming in pain, too.)

Erma would probably say, "Never turn your back on your children." Especially when you think they're playing quietly upstairs, when really they're climbing in and out of the bedroom window and walking on the porch roof. Yeah, that. (Another CPS moment)

I wouldn't say my house is a total disaster, just lived in. Yes, there are three baskets of clean laundry to put away that have been sitting there for .... um .... never mind. But at least it's clean. My philosophy on most items of clothing is, "It'll wash!" which is easier than trying to keep a distracted kid from wiping his fingers on his pants. My youngest might be crawling around under the dining room table, looking for old food to pick up and eat. Some days it's all I can do to say a prayer to protect my children from themselves and pray that God picks up where I left off. Most importantly, as Erma has taught us for decades, it's important to maintain a sense of humor - because sometimes, it's the only thing that will get you through the day.

I bet if Erma were alive today, she'd definitely have a blog. And a FaceBook fan page.

The Richest Moms in the World

Just in time for Mother's Day, Forbes Magazine has put out their 'Richest Moms in the World' list . I thought, "Oh, this ought to be interesting." I pictured the stories of hardworking moms who built fortunes from the ground up, raising a family at the same time, blah blah blah. Overcoming adversity and all that good stuff.

Not quite. When I opened the link, I saw the starched, made-up faces of women in their 70s and 80s, some younger ones mixed in, who, as predicted, inherited their fortunes from dead grandfathers, fathers and husbands. The only adversity some of these ladies likely saw was which nanny to choose for their children, and who would watch the kids while they holidayed in the South of France again this year? Bleh.

I wasn't surprised to read that only 70 women have billion-dollar fortunes in the entire world, compared to the "555 self-made billionaires who are fathers." And, says the article, of the 70, "just eight of these built their own."

I'm not sure what to think about that: as if so few women are capable of building a business that is very successful? Or that society puts pressure on women to thrive and succeed in business, while at the same time expecting them to be full-time, nurturing, perfect moms to boot? Or that a true measure of wealth, to most moms, has nothing to do with money, which perhaps explains why there are so few?

I'm a serious Little House on the Prairie addict, and one of my favorite episodes is "The Richest Man in Walnut Grove." Obviously the Ingalls family has little money and makes do with what they have. But to Charles, his riches come from having a loving family, and that's more important to him than any amount of money. I think most of us moms agree.

I don't know how much stock to put in the article, because really, all it shows to me is that these women knew how to pick 'em. I'm sure they have advisers to help them manage the fortunes they've acquired, so for some - maybe with the exception of Fidelity Investments' Abigail Johnson - it has little to do with having a head for business.

I know the economy is bad, etc. etc. etc. I know that living on one income is rough, because we've done it since even before we had kids. I know that for many families there is no choice but to have both parents working just to make ends meet. But I also know people who are a slave to their lifestyles: two (or three) cars, a summer house, swimming pool, and all the trimmings. Everyone in the family has a cell phone, satellite tv, more clothes than they could possibly wear, and toys out the ying-yang, yet "we don't have any money!" I guess the basic necessities are different from one family to another, but making real sacrifices to make ends meet (like ditching the premium cable package and choosing another cell phone plan) might save you some money each month. (Actually, we got rid of cable and switched to TracFone and are probably saving like $100 or more each month now.)

But I also know families of working mothers who choose a career for reasons that are inexplicable to me. One mom is concerned about tenure at her teaching position and sends her daughter to daycare, even during times she is off from school. Another mom works at a high-paying job even though her son has a terminal illness that will eventually claim his life before he's old enough to get married and have a family of his own. We get told every day by little old ladies hunched over from age that "these times go by fast, enjoy them!" and somehow, I don't know if we believe them. We nod and smile and think, "What a crazy old bat!" And yet, when things slow down and I have a moment to catch my breath, I think about that time and wonder where it went, even as a stay-at-home-mom who has had them all day, every day.

I can't help but think of the old adage, 'Money can't buy happiness.' One of the women on the list has one daughter, and they aren't even on speaking terms (related to her giving away millions of her vast fortune to someone other than her kid.) For others, it's never enough, and they always wish they had more.

For me, and probably most of us, having our children by our side, whenever we can, makes us way richer than these ladies.

Does your c-section make you feel like less of a mother?

It's become a legendary topic of debate, right up there with formula vs. breast, co-sleeping vs. crib. I stumbled across this blog post from repeat c-section mom, Amy Hatch, who laments why certain people make her feel like she's less of a mom because of her choice to have a cesarean . She also was riled at how a doctor at the recent NIH VBAC conference referred to a vaginal birth as 'normal,' making her feel like her births were 'abnormal.'

I won't go so far as some people did and say "get over it." I can't put myself in her shoes, and honestly, on one hand I can see how it would be easier emotionally if we didn't find it as important as we do. But on the other hand, as one person interviewed for The Business of Being Born put it (God help me, I can't remember her name, but it was familiar) to some a c-section is as routine as clipping your fingernails. I couldn't agree more.

I would never willingly make someone feel inadequate because of her choices on birth. But it's such a fine line. I guess in my passionate "birth Nazism" (how I hate that term) I only think women should make those decisions not based on one five-minute, one-sided conversation with their doctors, but some dedicated research to the topic. But I can't force someone to read books about it, nor can I force them to care as much as I do about it.

Hatch goes on to say that:

it's even A-OK with me if you want to pop a squat in the forest and have your kid while someone braids your hair and sings "Kumbaya." 

*Sigh*. There it is again: the perception that moms who insist or are passionate about vaginal birth are hippies, somehow freakish in nature. Someone else in the comments section also made a reference to this, too.

Since I can't keep my big mouth shut, I had to chime in. (I've decided that I don't really need coffee in the morning, because reading some of these birth forums would get the job done just as easily.)  I offered this:

Now see, you're insulted by the 'you're less of a woman if you had a c-section' vibe that you get from certain people. Most of us who are very passionate about vaginal birth are equally annoyed with the "squatting in the woods while singing kumbaya and having your hair braided" references. Why is it that women who feel a vaginal birth is important, not to mention without an epidural, are treated as freaks?
....
I think by and large that a lot of OBs practice "fear-based obstetrics" not only to save their own butts, but to discourage us from making them go out of their way to "allow" us to birth in the manner of our choosing. Sometimes yes, squatting is effective in order to better position the baby, but many doctors see it as offensive to get down on our level to help us deliver. And what did your doctor tell you about the risks of c-section when you were planning your second? Did he discuss VBAC? Like mine, probably for two seconds, if only to make it sound like the most dangerous thing I'd ever do and only carried risks. Which is crap. And then, we as women who like to talk to our friends about "girl stuff" like pregnancy and birth, perpetuate the myth that our bodies are broken, deficient and incapable of giving birth. That women who don't want interventions or drugs during labor are stupid, crazy or 'think they're getting a medal.' 

One woman said that "VBACs carry risks." As if to say that c-sections do not? Are you kidding? And on another forum, I actually heard this: "No VBAC for me! I love my baby!" As if to imply that those of us who choose a VBAC don't love our children? WTH?!

I think perhaps the debate stems from people realizing that maybe things didn't have to be the way they were? I don't know. I continually realize that it has to be a kick to the gut to suddenly be told "you should have known better," or "could have made better decisions if only you had known the facts." That's great, thanks for telling me now. I know my VBAC could have been "better" (no amniotomy, for instance, or insisting on changing positions, no Nubain, etc) but it was my VBAC, and I own that experience. There is no going back and changing what happened, but, if you're lucky, you can try to prevent it from happening again, should you have more children. And even then, there are no guarantees. In the meantime, I have chosen to be an advocate for women who are having more children, even if I myself never have another one.

Ironically, I have never met a woman who made me feel inadequate or questioned me for having two sections. I pray that I don't make others feel that way, either.