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Laundry, Laundry, Motherhood, Coffee, Coffee, Laundry.

Tag: Motherhood

A Plague Upon This House

I have no idea when Mercutio spoke that line, or if he even did. And I would definitely fact check it, but I am actually physically so worn out that I don’t even care. We have a plague upon our house. It started a couple […]

The House is Silent.

     Today is SL’s second day of daycare. You might be wondering why, considering I’m still off for the summer and have a few weeks left. But right now, as I sit and type this, my baby is being fed lunch by someone else. […]

Raise Our Babies Well.

 Over the last few weeks, I have heard the term “misogyny” more than any other specialized word in the English language. It has been all over the news, the internet , and of course Facebook. Misogyny: the hatred or dislike of women or girls. The word has come up more and more in the last few weeks because of a terrible crime in the US, but also the world. In the last month, there has been the kidnapping of hundreds of Nigerian girls, the stoning death of a pregnant Pakistani woman fighting for her right to marry for love, and the shooting of seven people in Santa Barbara by the now known Elliot Rodgers. What did all of these have in common? Hatred of women.
    I hate the word hate. It’s so strong and sounds so final. But I also think it perfectly describes all three incidents. Originally I didn’t think much about the connection. They were so horrific individually that it was hard to fathom that there was a connection. But there is, and since I now have a sweet, precious baby girl, I probably pay more attention than I used to.
   Elliot Rodgers left behind a manifesto detailing the way he had been treated, or actually not treated, by women. He trolled message boards and left videos detailing the ways he wanted to hurt people of the opposite sex. The woman who was stoned to death in Pakistan was in court at the time fighting for the right to remain married to her husband against her family’s wishes. The people who stoned her to death included her father, and the cousin the family had promised her to. And, of course, the Nigerian girls were swept into the woods and auctioned off into forced marriages, while the government sat back and watched for weeks. All of these things have so much in common, but the thing that stands out to me the most is that they all have parents. The men who committed these crimes were raised by women, mothers who I have no doubt adored them the way I adore my baby, who nursed them and watched them grow, comforted them when they fell, and packed lunches when they went to school. But I am convinced more and more that while we may not have been able to stop these events, flawed parenting certainly contributed to them.
   I am a part of a mommy message board that posts questions about everything from nursing, to what sunscreen to wear to when to switch to whole milk. There are also “rants” on these boards, that usually detail in-law problems, husband problems, school problems. I don’t normally respond to the rants, but occasionally read the responses. And then I noticed an alarming pattern. I noticed a lot of THIS going on within the messages:
“He’s all boy.”
“What do they expect me to do? He’s a typical boy.”
“He’s a boy- how would you respond?”
“He’s a boy.”
The messages mainly concerned things that happened at daycare or preschool, sometimes things that happened out and about (one was about a shopping experience in which the mother felt her son was justified in sitting on a display at a store) and sometimes plain frustrations with people who don’t understand that “they are boys”. The phrase “he’s a boy” was used to excuse: biting, hitting, talking back, smacking, not listening, inappropriate behavior in public, not helping to clean up.  Common husband problems included: playing video games or going out with friends instead of helping with babies, not helping out with housework, not being emotionally available. I never saw messages about husbands hitting or smacking (we call that abuse in the grown-up world) but did see plenty of posts about husbands who believed it was the wife’s place to clean the house and raise the children.  The responses were worse- they were often supportive of the behavior, saying that boys were just different, that people should be more understanding, that boys just don’t have the self control girls have. My question is, is that true? Or are we teaching them that they don’t have to have the self control girls have?    
      Then I started paying attention to how often I used the phrase. And found I was doing the same thing, excusing behavior based on gender. I was doing it in the classroom and I was doing it at home. Which is when I started thinking about this post. Because I DON’T have a boy. I have a girl. A girl who is going to grow up with the boys that are mentioned in these posts. And I NEVER, EVER want her to believe that because a playmate is a boy, he is allowed or expected to bite, hit, talk back, not help with chores or not listen to adults. And I think we can all work towards that.
    I started reading more about misogyny, about how we are raising girls in a “rape culture”, and realized that the people who are writing these articles aren’t crazy. They are right. When we tell a girl that something isn’t okay or appropriate, but we excuse a boy for doing it because of his gender, we are setting him up for a lifetime of believing that it is okay or appropriate. We are setting up our sweet little boys to think that it’s okay to settle something with fists instead of words, to disobey adults even at school or daycare, to move their mamas into second place. That girls can be treated as objects, and that they are deserving of whatever comes to them. Worse, we are setting up our girls to have to learn how to avoid the “wrong guys”, that they are going to have to work around boys instead of with them, that they will always have to be a little afraid.
   Of course there are religions that teach this, and sects of Christianity that preach women are not as good as men. And we aren’t able to fight all of them. But we are in a position to change the way people look at baby boys and baby girls. Are there differences? Of course there are- I’m not disputing that. What I’m disputing is excusing inexcusable behavior. Because that inexcusable behavior leads to adolescent and teenage boys who develop more inexcusable behavior. It leads to belief systems I don’t think we want, and belief systems I don’t think we set out to create.
    Think for a moment how you treat boys and girls differently, or even men and women. For one day, just be aware of it. Are you keeping them on equal footing? And if you’re not (like myself), what are you going to do to overcome it? Do you truly believe that it’s okay for boys to hit and girls not to? Do you think boys should be given wiggle room when it comes to obeying their parents because they are boys? I am trying to imagine how my parenting would have been different if I had a boy. Would I let him sit and cry longer because he needs to learn to “tough it out”? Would I refuse to let him wear pink if he wanted to?
    This is the very beginning of my thought process on misogyny and how it shapes our culture. I’m looking towards what I can do to reshape our culture just a tiny bit, in my tiny corner of the world. Maybe I can start by not saying, “Well, I guess he’s a typical boy.”

Want to Stop Politicizing Women? Start Paying Us.

Today a bill will hit the floor aimed at forcing transparency in companies when it comes to salaries. Currently, according to Working Mother magazine, 68% of married women work outside the home and 75% of unmarried, separated or divorced women do. That’s a lot of women […]

Our Social Calendar is Filling Up Again

                Good news, yall. Our social calendar is finally filling up again. After months of wondering what we would do with the death of our social lives, we are finally being reintroduced to society. But if youre thinking it […]

So Much More than a Late Night Crashpad

    Becoming a parent has meant having to accept certain “situations”. Like, one glass of wine with dinner instead of a margarita (apparently babies frown upon hard liquor, or maybe adults do). And when a friend asks you to a movie, you can only imagine a panicked babysitter texting you in the middle of Ryan Gosling removing clothing (don’t judge- you know you watch too) to call you home. So you end up staying home a lot more. BUT, and there is a BUT, you become much more in tune with your home. You start really thinking about what it means to be in a home. Equaling a breakthrough.
    When I was younger (Oh. My. God. this makes me so sad) my “home” was essentially a crash pad. Trust me, I added things to make it more “homey”- like my fish tank in Greensboro, or posters in Raleigh, or the Carolina gnome that has been mysteriously missing for the last few years. But overall it never really mattered what was happening there because there was so much else going on in the outside world. I was gone almost constantly so when I came home it was to go to bed, occasionally have a 90210 marathon watching session, and to eat. That’s why it never bothered me to move all the time- what mattered were the experiences I had while I lived in a place, not necessarily the physical walls that surrounded me. But as we become older our homes become so much more.
    I moved into my husband’s house when we got married and there was a lot going on in there that was, to put it lightly, not really my thing. Some things I can accept (like the fact that he’s always going to want a giant TV, and even if we have a big TV, secretly be dreaming of a bigger one), but some things just had to go (the sofa held up by textbooks). We began to discuss what we wanted our home to be like. What colors, what plates, what bedding. And ever so slowly, as we discussed our home came together. What is great about our current home is that we picked it out together, came into it as a team, and then became a family here.
     SL has been a game changer when it comes to how much we enjoy our home. First of all, I’m here a lot more. Getting out the door with a baby is not the same as getting yourself out the door. It actually seems to be an art form that I’m learning about. So naturally we spent more time in the house. Often I would find myself consulting her on everything from colors for cushions to where artwork should go. Beyond her natural gravitation towards primary colors, she wasn’t the most help.
     Slowly our home is coming together. I vaguely remember us moving in with a newborn, and then a moment in the fall when I thought the boxes would never be unpacked. But they have been or are being and with each one we move towards settling in in what I hope will be a forever home or close to it. We talk about long term projects in a more serious way than we used to, and they don’t all involve painting the office (definitely a “someday” project). And now we can even go out more. SL is finally at an age where she enjoys going on “adventures”, and loves seeing people and animals. We can easily head to a friend’s for lunch or an early dinner, depending on bedtime  We can go to the library and the mall and the museum and the park with greater ease, and I am much more comfortable doing it. But I find myself treasuring the moments at home so much more. She’s belly crawling all over the place now and lying on the floor with her makes her laugh to the point of tears, and it is SO. MUCH. FUN. Matt and I are missing other things left and right- parties, shows, events. But I’m becoming much more okay with it. I used to mourn a little with each invite we had to turn down. Now I mainly kind of want to say “Y’all should come here and watch this baby! She’s hilarious! She’s determined! She is ridiculously cute!” Instead I try to enjoy watching this hilarious, determined amazing baby who spent her whole Sunday trying to get the cat to get close enough to rip out some hair. I think about how fast the time is moving- how last week at this time she could only turn in a circle, and the week before she was just starting to stretch out. And she loves our house. She begins kicking her legs and getting excited to see her toys and the cats. She loves her room and I completely believe she knows what is hers and what is not and has this awesome sense of ownership over it.
     Isn’t that what we want for our kids? To know what home is, to get excited when they pull in the driveway or see their room. Who remembers being obsessed with their room when they were a kid? Who is obsessed with their home now and actually doesn’t mind hitting up Home Depot on a Sunday? Who wants to come over and watch a ridiculously cute, hilarious baby?  When that’s your question, you know that you have finally reached a point when your home is no longer your crash pad.

Snow Days in the South

    Snow days in the South are perfection.Because they happen so rarely we treat them as the glorious gifts they are. Snow days mean pulling out rusty sleds, checking the supply of marshmallows, and cleaning the grocery stores out of milk and bread, though […]

Working Mothers Part…Something

Today, as I was rushing around getting ready this morning,  M. told me to look over at the baby, who was happily entertaining herself before her morning bottle. I did and saw her reading. A book. Thats right. The librarians baby was reading herself a […]

I Eat a Cupcake- an Ode to Guilt

                It sounds like a teenage girls diary. My first thought was that the second sentence should be Ken wants to study for the algebra test together. Should I? But in this case,  I wasnt worried about Ken, or about the cupcake per se. Sure, cupcakes have more calories than regular food, but I worked that out with marathoning.  What I worried about was SL.  Nursing has brought its own struggles but the real injustice has come from being able to eat so. Much. Food. But not being able to eat dairy.  During the holidays I applauded myself on restraint. Christmas Eve dinner was ridiculous minus the mashed potatoes, rolls, and 5 layer red velvet cheesecake made from scratch (it was seriously an exact copy):

. I had fruit.  My plate held a piece of meat, peas, and cherry jello salad- were Southern, so jello somehow made it into the same category as vegetables.  And its not like the Polar Express served fruit and water.
                But then after the holidays had ended, after the last of the leftovers had been enjoyed and the wrapping paper put away, I had a weak moment. I was at a friends baby shower. The table had the usual spread- nuts, cheese straws, mints, punch. Then it had a display of the most beautiful, adorable, cupcakes. Seriously. A pretty tower of cupcakes. I got my plate, and I stared at them. Then I went around the table picking up what I could eat. And I stared at them some more.  Then I walked away from the table but found myself back there within minutes. And that is when I collapsed and had the cupcake.
                Any good dieter can tell you that once youve broken the seal, there isnt any stopping you. Yes, youll have remorse later, but in the moment you can only focus on the food you are about to consume. So I ate it. The whole thing, even the frosting which was really high. And I ooohed and aahed over the adorableness of what a new baby girl was receiving but by the time I walked to my car, the Momma Guilt had hit. All those days of working around this food restriction, and I had thrown it away on a cupcake. My poor, sweet, baby.
                Momma Guilt is perhaps the most vicious part of being  a parent. Everyone feels guilt at some point, but Momma Guilt is actually a never-ending cycle. I feel that it is as ingrained as the desire to throw the Fisher Price toy that wont stop singing against the wall. And since SL was born, I have literally felt guilt every single day. In the hospital it started with guilt over her birth- how could I not have realized the painkiller I had prior to the epidural would travel to her? Did we have a harder time bonding because of the epidural? Two days after her birth I felt the most immense guilt that she was losing weight and we could not figure out why. Then I felt guilt that she wasnt getting enough to eat, then guilt that I was letting her sleep on me most nights, then guilt that I wasnt holding her enough during the day, then guilt that I was possibly holding her too much during the daythe list can go on and on. Once I even  felt guilt that I wasnt staring at her enough at one point, then wondered if I was possibly staring at her too much. Really. Wow, hormones, wow.   And now a lot of that guilt centers around diet.

                One of the best parts of nursing, supposedly, is that extra calorie burn that comes with it. Which for me  turned into a reason to eat whatever I wanted until I was shut down.  Shut down with the idea that my baby could have milk intolerance. I had no idea what I was getting into. I suppose the irony is that SL was tested for (negatively) milk intolerance and I was cleared to eat whatever, but still I hang onto the thought that her reflux is better when Im not eating dairy. So I dont.  And weve adapted okay. We ate a pretty wide variety of foods before and this was just working around one small (or maybe not so small) issue. Except for the cupcakes. Sometimes I would just look at SL and sigh and wish I could eat whatever I wanted to because I am literally hungry most the time. Of course, early on so was she. So we had even more in common than I thought.

                So now, generally, I watch what I eat like a hawk. Admiring others plates full of butter and cheese, reading labels closely to make sure that they havent snuck milk in- EXAMPLE: Progresso Minestrone soup has milk in it. True Story. And things go along pretty smoothly. Until I am asked to conquer the cupcake craving. I had a friend in grad school, Gretchen, who had a milk allergy and because of it was an amazing vegan baker. At the time I was blas about it. Now I applaud her, and everyone who works hard to make sure cravings are fulfilled without that beautiful word- dairy. Im saving these stories, in the hopes that one day they will make someone elses life easier, or that they will remind SL of what I went through in that first year- its useful for the teenage years, Im told.  Im also told the Momma Guilt will not subside, but will instead transfer to other areas. Sigh- Hand me a cupcake.   

Wrap Up 2013

Everyone does a wrap up blog. It’s important, right? To kind of review where you’ve been going the last year, and figure out how to keep the readers (and yourself) happy. So this is my wrap up. Things we did in 2013: 1. Bought a […]