mom blogs Archives - Page 5 of 5

May 7, 2007

It’s OK To Be A Good Parent

(Inspired by Rebecca’s post, Good Parent. I admit this went a little off subject, but the kernel of truth is still there.)

Like most high schools, it was considered very uncool to be smart. I was a straight A nerd, trying so hard to fit in with my peers like everyone around me. So I lied about my grades. “Wasn’t that math test hard? Yeah, I thought I bombed it, but I got a low C. Just enough to get by, right?” (In reality, I aced it.)

If you had listened to me talk to my friends, you’d have thought I was really struggling in school, just like them. I sighed about how mean it was to force us to read Crime & Punishment (a favorite of mine) in English class, and when asked by another student how to balance a chemistry equation, I’d look at them slack jawed and say, “I have no idea. I’m awful at Chemistry! What will we ever need to know this for?”

It was the “in” thing to do.

It seems that having the appearance of being an underachiever is often the way to go in our society, and this even applies to parenting. Read through 100 parenting blogs, and witness how 99 of them will make some self-depreciating joke about what a bad parent they are. No one wants to brag, no one wants to hold themselves up to a higher standard for fear of being knocked down the one time they do admit to doing something wrong. It’s far easier to roll your eyes, laugh and proclaim yourself to be a near-failure at the job rather than subject yourself to the criticism that could follow if you dare call yourself a good parent. Because saying you’re a good parent somehow might imply that you think others aren’t as good.

But let’s be honest: most of us are good parents. In fact, I’d bet most of us are pretty damn awesome parents much of the time.

Parents today are held to much higher standards than they were in years past. Whereas parenting was just a part of daily life in our parents and grandparents time, it is now a competitive sport and professional occupation (without respect and benefits, of course) all rolled into one.

Now we have exhaustive checklists, measurements and standards to hold ourselves accountable for, with invisible grades assigned to us based on how well our child is reaching each milestone. If my daughter walks late, it’s because I wasn’t doing enough to encourage her. If she doesn’t know her colors by two years old, it’s my fault for not taking her to more Gymboree classes or buying her fancy flashcards to practice with. If she doesn’t graduate at the top of her class in high school, I’ll know it was because I didn’t sacrifice enough to give up working and stay home, spending all of my time focused on her development while also cooking nutritious organic and hormone-free food to give her the best chance of optimum brain development.

Seriously? We’ve gone off the deep end, folks.

My grandmother often tells me about her upbringing. She was born into a poor farm family. She said that as an infant, she was left on the bed most of the day by herself, with her older siblings occasionally checking to make sure she hadn’t rolled off onto the floor. Her mother later told her, “It’s a good thing you were a quiet baby and kept to yourself on the bed all day. Your brothers wouldn’t have been happy if they had to entertain you.” Her mother didn’t have time for developmental games and enrichment activities – she had a farm to run. As my grandmother grew older, much of her time was spent finding her own entertainment, and learning as she went.

My mother was also raised on a farm, and her early childhood was often spent in the fields. She’d wander off into the fields or woods with no one watching her except the family dog. But her parents were busy, and they knew the collie would keep an eye on her.

I would consider both of these women to be intelligent and caring people who clearly didn’t suffer as a result of having no access to a LeapFrog phonics bus and Baby Einstein. And I know I didn’t have those things, either, and yet somehow graduated from college with honors.

So why are the parents of this generation so hard on ourselves? Why are we holding ourselves up to impossible standards in secret, while we jokingly admit our failures in public? And are we really failures?

Truthfully, it’s hard to consider a parent a failure. Unless you’re abusing your child, starving your child, or willfully neglecting your child in a way that places them in danger, you’re probably doing OK. And if you’re not doing any of those things, but are doing what you can to make sure your child is loved and feels safe, putting their needs above your wants (notice the particular placement of “needs” and “wants”), then you’re probably a good parent.

Few can live up to the new standards of parenting. It isn’t healthy, and it isn’t practical for many. In fact, I’d argue that these new standards are doing nothing more than putting unnecessary stress on moms and dads. Some say it causes the “child-centered” family, which puts strain on a marriage and gives kids an overinflated sense of self. I don’t know if that’s true, but I know that I can admit that when it comes to the new standards, I’m not a straight A student.

Yes, my toddler eats fast food at least once a week. Shocking, right? But we’re a very busy family, and we don’t always have time to be at home and cook a healthy meal. And I can counter the fast food with the Good Parent fact that she’s never had candy in her life.

Cordy also watches a lot of TV. Hours a day, in fact. But before you accuse me of rotting her brain with commercials and violence and sex, know that she only watches Noggin and Playhouse Disney – nothing else, period. Thanks to Moose A. Moose, she knows her shapes, colors, and numbers, which I help to reinforce when I can.

In other words, I am a good mom, despite what the media and experts and social scientists and sanctimommies might say. My daughter’s needs are met, her wants are met within reason, she is happy and healthy, and I do my best to encourage her in her development. I’m in no way perfect, but I also know there’s no such thing as a perfect parent. Who cares if Cordy isn’t using the potty yet? I highly doubt she’ll be going to college in diapers.

I refuse to let my entire self-worth be based on my evaluation as a parent, mostly because I don’t believe there is such a thing as an accurate evaluation. Parenting is not black and white: between “good” and “bad” there is an enormous spectrum of grey. And so it is important that we moms and dads relax a little, let go of our need to downplay our successes in public, while at the same time stop flogging ourselves in private because we can’t live up to some imaginary set of standards that are completely unreachable. Take off the hairshirt, people. Most of us are good parents – let’s admit it and not be ashamed to look at our successes.

My daughter wakes up every day and wants nothing more than to hug me in the morning. She goes to bed with more hugs and says, “I love you.” She is full of happiness, content with all she has. Her intelligence and curiosity are far-reaching, and there’s a passion in everything she does, including her tantrums. She is loved and well cared for.

I’m a good mom.

Filed Under: big issues, mom blogs, pop culture ·

Apr 27, 2007

And I Was So Ready To Write About My Lousy Day

By Christina ·

I was planning a long post about how today was a miserable day and nothing was going right. I had all sorts of things to complain about:

– how our three cats took turns waking me up in 20 min. increments beginning at 5:15am, meaning I had very little sleep and woke up grumpy.

– how the elder Siamese then chose to throw up on the carpet in the living room this morning, not once, but three times. And of course he moved a little between each barfing session, so I had three areas to clean up.

– how Cordy and I have seen Aaron less than a half hour a day since Sunday, due to his being busy at work and directing a play that opened last night.

– how Cordy has not napped in two days, and the weather has been dreary, so she’s bouncing off the walls. And the stupid cable is acting up, and of course one of the channels that doesn’t work right now is Disney.

– how sad/pissed I was to receive a baby shower invitation to my coworker’s shower, when she’s due a month after me, and yet no one at work is throwing a shower for me. I normally wouldn’t care, but every other pregnant woman in our department in the two years I’ve been there has had a shower given in their honor, even if it wasn’t their first child. I guess we part-timers aren’t worth it.

It was going to be a rant-a-rific post.

But then I took some time to read my Bloglines this morning, and saw this. Which lead me to this. Suddenly, my day was brightening.

And after I cried a little from the wave of warm fuzzy feelings washing over me (of course, it doesn’t take much nowadays, so this was a small fountain), I had one of those goofy, half-embarrassed, half-amazed and flattered grins on my face the rest of the day. Still do.

I can’t even begin to say how awesome all of these women are for putting together such a fun and generous event like this for myself, Liz and Tammie. You rock.

If you haven’t had the chance to check out the virtual baby shower, go do it. Because there are games where you can win some fabulous prizes, all without being forced to eat baby food and guess the flavor. And while you’re at it, feel free to leave some advice – or assvice, or both – for the three of us. Liz and I are sophomore moms, so we can pretend we know what we’re doing, but Tammie is a freshman at this, and I’m sure she could use your best tips for this parenting gig.

Tomorrow, I promise a picture of my ginormous baby belly, just so everyone can feel like they’re all really here with me in person for the shower. But can we please skip the game of guessing how many squares of toilet paper go around it?

Filed Under: mom blogs, pregnancy · Tagged: blog love

Mar 15, 2007

The War Against Mom Bloggers

By Christina ·

Today I was directed to another post attacking a mom blogger for blogging about her personal issues. It had all of the usual components : criticizing her for opening up about her problems and saying she is an attention whore, calling those other moms who leave supportive comments for her sycophants, indicating that she is a danger to her family, and then a whole slew of comments where this blogger’s friends give her the “you go girl” treatment, followed by a catfight and more generalized insults against mom bloggers when others try to defend the original mom blogger. In other words: same old, same old.

While the original post certainly wasn’t called for (and I disagree with the blogger’s method of insulting the mom blogger for not getting help when that mom blogger has already set up an appt. to get help), I especially got annoyed by the comments attacking mom bloggers in general. Why are we, as a group, so often the subject of ridicule, mocking, and hate? As a group, we get the least amount of respect as bloggers, and are the most likely to be accused of being indulgent attention whores.

First, let’s be honest: ALL bloggers are attention whores. If you weren’t, you’d either be writing in a little paper diary at home or, for those who can’t resist the “Which Desperate Housewife Are You?” online quizzes, a locked, friends-only LiveJournal. So I think the issue of being an attention whore is a non-issue in this argument.

But why do mom bloggers get so much hate? Is it because we’re the ones marketers and advertisers are now throwing money at, seeing that mom bloggers are becoming such a large community and moms often control the family finances? Or is it the typical societal response that moms are not valued for what they do as moms, considered to have nothing to say now that our brains have turned to mush from having children, and so others see no reason we should be talking about the struggles and difficulties of being a mom?

After all, we chose to be moms, right? We’re not allowed to vent about how hard it can be sometimes, because we chose to have children. We should instead shut up, change the baby’s diaper, get back into our kitchens making dinner and stop complaining. Not to mention, if we happen to do something that is very un-mom-like, such as swearing, we’re told things like, “Do you kiss your kids with that mouth?” So once we become moms we have to renounce everything about ourselves aside from our ability to read bedtime stories and fill sippy cups? (And remember, moms, we’re not allowed to drink, either.) The worst part: this is often coming from other female bloggers who often would identify as feminists. Way to set back the movement, ladies.

Of course, with that line of thinking, no one should complain about their job, their love life, their living situation, their weight, or nearly anything else. After all, you made the choice to have that job, relationship, neighborhood, whatever, right? So no one can complain about anything. Well, there goes the entire concept of blogging.

You can see this lack of respect reflected in comments when people accuse us of neglecting our children to blog (not feeding them, letting them run rampant, etc.) or point out that they can get traffic without needing to be members of mom blogging communities. The first is just ignorant, the second shows a lack of understanding of the different reasons people blog (beyond seeking attention, which we know all bloggers want).

I don’t even need to dignify the first with a response defending when I blog. My daughter gets plenty of attention, and she has never been in an unsupervised situation in our home, so when I blog doesn’t matter. Not to mention, it is often assumed that all mom bloggers are stay-at-home moms. There are plenty of working women who can also work blogging into their schedules. How do we have time for family with work and blogging? We’re magic – are you jealous? I can stop time like the guy on Heroes. (In other words, we are mighty resourceful and make it work.) We’re also accused of having too much time on our hands to be online. So which is it? Do we have too much time available, or are we committing crimes of neglect in order to blog?

As for moms forming online communities – why is this such a threatening thing to others? God forbid the internet be used for anything other than making snarky posts about people. (For the record, I agree that the mom blogger in question needs help, but I know she is also actively seeking out help. It was the insulting way the post was written, and how the poster clearly wasn’t reading anything said, that I had issue with.) Again, moms aren’t supposed to complain about our position and the daily struggles we go through. We’re supposed to read our Dr. Spock books and we’re expected to somehow know how to raise our kids. What kind of crazy thinking is this?

Motherhood is an isolating experience as well as a bonding experience. When you become a mom, you’re automatically inducted into the motherhood club, and you’ll notice right away the knowing smiles other moms give you, and find you can usually strike up a conversation with any other mom when out. But as part of your induction, you’re given no instruction manual on how to be a mom, and you find yourself wondering if you’re doing it right. Of course, it’s hard to ask for help, because society thinks parenting is the easiest, least-valued experience a person can deal with, and so we watch other moms and compare ourselves to them, wondering if they’ve got it under control or if they’re just pretending as well. We’re scared to out ourselves as a pretender and admit we really have no idea what we’re doing.

Blogging helps deal with this isolation. In a community of semi-anonymity, moms can express their fears, frustrations, an concerns, and in return often find other moms sharing similar stories to let them know they’re not alone. Knowing you’re not the only person dealing with a toddler who won’t nap, or a baby who won’t stop crying, can be all the difference between getting through another day or having a mental breakdown from the oppressive feeling of failure.

At work, I get regular job performance reviews to know how I’m doing, including praise for what what I’ve done well. As a mom, I rarely get praise for what I do, and there are few ways to measure my job. But in our society, there are plenty of people ready to point the finger of blame and attack me for any negative trait seen in my child (not just limited to sanctimommies). I won’t know how I really did until Cordy’s older, so until then I must spend every day worrying if I’m screwing her up or really preparing her for life. The community found through mom blogs provides a little more reassurance that most of us are all trying to do the best we can. Sure, there are plenty of *hugs* and other sappy sentiments given out, but look deeper and you can find a lot of useful advice, too.

Of course, because we have this community, we’re branded as an unthinking herd whenever someone attacks one of us and others choose to defend the person. If we dare to speak up, we’re labeled bitches and sycophants. Yet the attackers don’t see their own little circles of friends in the same light. They consider themselves better than the mom bloggers, so clearly their “moral high ground” exempts their nasty comments from being considered bitchy.

I didn’t leave a comment at this person’s blog, because I saw no point. She is already set in her opinion of mom bloggers as a group, so anything I addressed to her would simply be speaking to a brick wall, and I see no point in getting involved in a pointless, hateful flame war. But I do find it sad to see someone choose to write something inflammatory about another person right when that person is at their lowest point and clearly asking for help. There are ways to address the situation that don’t involve insulting the person, but also don’t involve the *hugs* and sugary-sweet comments, too. And just because friends of hers choose to disagree is no reason to then jump to insulting mom bloggers as a whole.

I’m curious as to why mom bloggers as a whole are subject to so much hate? Clearly not all mom bloggers are the same – some stay home, some work, some are married, some are single moms, some talk about poop, others don’t, some write only about their children, and some write to work out their identities as a mother as well as a woman, wife, worker, etc.

We’re as diverse a group as any other collection of bloggers, with various levels of education, different views on child rearing, and living in many different situations. The one thing we have in common is the difficult job of being mothers and our desire to share that experience with others, possibly in the hopes of finding others to commiserate with. Why is that one common thread something that others feel so threatened by and choose to attack so often?

Filed Under: mom blogs ·

Mar 5, 2007

The Value of Community

By Christina ·

Sometimes I wish we lived in simpler times.

Now that I’m in the third trimester, I’ve begun thinking about my upcoming labor and what I’m sure will be a difficult transition when we bring home our new daughter. I remember the early days with Cordelia. My mother stopped in a few days that first week, but otherwise, it was just Aaron and I trying to figure out our new roles as parents.

In earlier times, and still in many cultures today, childbirth was more of a family and community event. A woman’s mother, aunts, sisters, female cousins, and female friends would be there to help her while she labored, with the experienced mothers taking charge to keep the new mom’s spirits up. The women would keep cool cloths on her forehead, bring her water, rub her back, encourage her and help her be as comfortable as possible.

Once the baby was born, the other women helped clean the mother up, make her comfortable, and offer advice on breastfeeding and childcare. Generally, a few of the women would remain for several days, doing the housework and cooking for the new mother, assisting with older children, bringing the baby to her for feedings, and making sure she got the rest she needed. Women helping women: a sisterhood held together by the common bond of motherhood.

The average, isolated, American nuclear family of today often does not have the full benefit of this sisterhood. For one, families are not as large, and what extended family we do have is often spread across the country. And childbirth is now primarily left to the medical professionals in hospitals, many of which have rules and regulations limiting the number of visitors allowed in the labor and delivery room. Our isolation leaves many couples on their own when they become parents, unsure of their abilities and, for the mother, still healing from the rigors of childbirth yet needing to get back to normal life as soon as possible.

When Cordy was born, my mother was able to come up for the day, but only because I had a scheduled c-section. Had I gone through a normal labor, my mom’s presence would have depended on when labor started and if she had to work that day. My mother was the only relative who could possibly offer any help with childbirth: I have no sisters, my aunts are childless, and it’s been far too long since my grandmother gave birth for her to remember. (And my grandmother’s birth experiences involved being put into a “twilight sleep” and waking to find a new baby.) Aaron’s family offered little help, also: his immediate family are all men.

While the hospital staff were helpful, they had no emotional investment in my well-being. I remember the first morning after my c-section clearly. Aaron had to leave for the morning for a performance he was contractually obligated to be at, and my mom wasn’t coming until later in the day. At that point, I was still connected to an IV and a catheter, with tubes going everywhere, I had inflation cuffs on both legs to prevent blood clots, and my ab muscles were shredded from my incision, making it nearly impossible to move. Cordy was next to my bed in her plastic hospital crib, and she started crying.

Even though she was right next to me, I couldn’t get to her because of the various implements chaining me to the bed. I finally managed to lean over far enough to pick her up, only to then place her between my legs and wonder what I should do next. Did she need changed? If so, I couldn’t get to the supplies. Was she hungry? Breastfeeding was still not working, and there wasn’t a lactation consultant available until later in the morning. I was thirsty, also, but my water bottle was empty. I pressed the call button for the nurse, and was told she was with other patients and would be there as soon as she could. I remember feeling helpless and alone, crying at my inexperience and wishing someone was with me to tell me it was OK, and that I wasn’t already failing at being a mother. I needed help. I couldn’t do this alone.

Remembering that makes me nervous about my upcoming labor. This time I know my mom will not be there. If she is available, she will be at our house watching Cordy, since children are not allowed in labor and delivery. Aaron will be there, and I am thankful for that, but if this one isn’t a c-section (and I’m really hoping for a VBAC), he will be just as new at this as I will be. I’m considering hiring a doula as a next-best-thing substitute for that familial sisterhood I lack, although I’ve been facing a lot of pressure from family who think the extra cost is a waste of money we can’t afford to waste.

One enormous weight off my shoulders is that Aaron will get paternity leave this time. At his old job, he had no leave available, and took the four days of sick/vacation available to him before he had to be back to work. This time, he will get six weeks, two weeks completely at home, and four weeks working part-time. My mom hopes to come up once or twice a week, too. I have some wonderful mom friends who will probably visit when they can, too, even though they live hours away. But for the majority of the time, it will be Aaron and I on our own.

I wish our culture still placed a high value on family and community. This could be the reason so many moms are finding blogs and message boards and other online communities to fill in this need for camaraderie and sisterhood. We need someone to tell us we’re not alone: we’re not the only ones to forget the diaper bag when going out, we’re not the only ones to feel helpless because we don’t know why our babies are crying, we’re not the first to resent our new babies from time to time, and we’re not the first to occasionally feel like failures.

And while it would be wonderful to have a group of women helping me out at home the first few weeks, knowing that someone else out there has gone through what I’m going through, and will tell me it’ll all be OK, is nearly as good. I may not have many experienced moms here in my immediate vicinity, but thanks to the virtual community I have a wealth of experience to draw from, and several digital shoulders to lean on.