MamaBlogga

To be a mom is often to be bossy. “Don’t touch that!”, “Don’t eat that!”, “Don’t hit her!” and, of course, “Because I said so” are among my most common phrases during the day.

So I wonder if maybe sometimes we forget that we’re not the boss of everyone—especially other mothers.

Being a stay-at-home mom isn’t easy. True, some mothers love it and thrive in this role and truly find themselves in being a mother. But there are at least as many of us who don’t—those of us who stay at home because we believe that being with our children is paramount, that raising them ourselves is the most important, noble role that we could have, even if it’s very hard for us (and/or those of us who don’t care to work just to cover the cost of daycare).

But so many times, if we dare to mention any measure of dissatisfaction with the day-in day-out diaper and dinner duty, there’s someone around to tell us how horrible we must be. How we’re obviously doing something wrong. I get this on the blog a lot, most often in the vein of “Oh, if you hate being trapped at home so much, quit whining and liberate yourself. Go get a job and start contributing to society already.”

Okay, so it’s usually not said with a dismissive attitude. In fact, the commenter usually sounds like they really think they’re trying to be helpful. But the dismissiveness is there—they’re automatically dismissing my deep belief that being with my children is the most important thing I can do in my life, even if it’s hard/boring/overwhelming. If it isn’t making me happy right this minute, it must be wrong for me. Or I’m doing something wrong. And I couldn’t possibly have chosen something that I find this hard.

I know I’m not the only one who gets this “helpful” advice. On the blog A Number of Things, Erin faces the same kind of judgments:

As usual when I bring up my dissatisfaction with being solely a Stay-At-Home-Mom, I get a variety of responses, from encouragement to pursue a career and fulfill my own dreams at whatever cost to the polar opposite philosophy that a Christian woman has no business doing anything outside the home at all and ought to be happy and content filling her role as a wife and mother.

Can we just face it? Neither of these responses is helpful. Neither is constructive. Both are dismissive: the first we already discussed, and the second dismisses our sincere struggles (and insults the depths of our religious convictions).

This is what I want to do with this blog: I want to be able to validate SAHMs that struggle. I want to remind them that this is an important, worthwhile, contributing-to-society work—and as such, yes, it is hard. Sometimes gut-wrenchingly, mind-numbingly difficult. And it’s okay to acknowledge that. It doesn’t reflect poorly on you or your children.

At the same time, I don’t want to place guilt on mothers who have to or choose to work outside the home. We can all struggle with balance and fulfillment, and we all need that help. We have to support each other—and judging each others’ choices is counterproductive.

What do you think? How can we support one another? What kind of forum (an online forum, a blog, a Facebook group, etc.) would be the best way to gather mothers for support without judgment?

Photo credits: finger wagging—Teresia; support—Dimitris Papazimouris

Are you a working mom? Do you like it? A recent employment survey at WomansDay.com says that most working women don’t like it.

Of the 4000 working women surveyed, 63% said their jobs are “just a paycheck,” and 79% said they want something better for their children when asked if they want their kids to follow in their footsteps.

So while we stay-at-home moms (or even work-at-home moms) sometimes wish they were out in the work force, doing something that made them feel like they were “contributing to society” or doing something fulfilling with their lives, working moms (and non-moms) are wishing they could stay home and do the same thing.

Perhaps most telling was the question:

Do you ever wish you could ditch your job and stay home with your kids all day?

• 57%: Yes. I’d give anything to do that.
• 40%: No. I need to get out of the house.
• 4%: I’m already a stay-at-home mom.

That’s almost 2-to-1 wishing they could stay home. (And I guess we don’t really know if this question was asked of only mothers, so maybe some of those saying “No” don’t have kids at home. Staying home alone would probably get boring.)

I also liked the question “Is work/life balance a myth?” Interestingly, there was a very close contest here (though that might be because of the way they phrased the answers). 53% said, “Yes, work/life balance is a myth created by men,” while 47% chose, “No, you can have it all.”

Maybe the grass isn’t always greener (but please don’t call the cops on me!). And maybe, as Sher put it, “I think we need to water our grass more. Then it can grow and look better than that on the other side.”

What do you think? How can we water our grass, at work or at home? Do you enjoy working/staying at home, or would you want to switch?

Earlier this month, I posted an excerpt of a column by Mary Ann Miller. Though it was written decades ago, it still rings true, especially when she said, “It’s true that modern ideology still advocates free choice, but somehow the choice of full-time homemaker doesn’t garner the same respect and interest as choosing to be an astronaut.”

One commenter took issue with this statement:

And what sort of respect and admiration do you expect to get when the ones to benefit from the choice you made are your immediate family, as compared to someone whose choices benefit many hundreds of people? In other words, if your choice is to be a full-time mother, you can expect to receive the respect and admiration of your family because they are the ones who benefit, but why would you expect to receive any acknowledgement from other people who gain nothing from your choice? If your choice is to be an astronaut, you can expect to receive the respect and admiration of everyone whose life your work touches.

I responded in the comments there, but the more I think about this, the more this type of thinking bothers me. Let’s set aside how very ego-centric it is to only respect those who do something to directly benefit your life. Let’s look at the standard here—and I’m not trying to pick on this commentator, but using this comment to illustrate a pervasive, destructive thought pattern that undermines mothers.

Here’s our logic:

• Astronauts can expect to receive the respect and admiration of everyone whose life their work touches.
• Mothers can expect to receive the respect and admiration of only their children and husbands.

Seeing it yet?

In this line of thinking, a mother can only receive respect from someone who she works with directly, her immediate family. An astronaut, on the other hand, can “expect” to receive admiration from “many hundreds of people,” who benefit from her work (and here’s a niggling point: this argument says astronauts should get respect for everything anyone in their profession has contributed to society—but not so for mothers).

So what, exactly might that benefit be? Can you name one thing an astronaut has done to make your life better?

Now name one thing your mother did to make your life better.

Now name one thing her mother did to make your life better. A friend’s mother. Your child’s friend’s mother. Another mom in your neighborhood.

So why is it that a mother can only receive respect from the people she serves directly, but an astronaut can receive respect for all of her colleagues’ collective contributions to society? Why can’t we take mothers as a force, too?

Mothers do not only benefit their own families. Having a mother at home can benefit the neighborhood—mothers can touch the lives of their children’s friends—mothers can influence generations. An astronaut doesn’t teach children to get along, to share, to read, to write, to sing, to love, to laugh, to live. We influence our children, and through them, all they come in contact with for the rest of their lives. A mother is the most influential career any of us could have.

Or, as G.K. Chesterton put it in his “guest post” here:

How can it be a large career to tell other people’s children about the Rule of Three, and a small career to tell one’s own children about the Universe? How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, and narrow to be everything to someone?

So yes, I suppose I do agree that all mothers deserve the respect of those who have benefit from any one mother’s time, effort, talents, love. Has your life benefited from any nurturing woman?

Photo credits: astronaut—Brian Talbot; globe—Sanja Gjenero

A couple of months ago, I came across a Mother’s day column reprinted by the author, Maryann Miller, on her blog, It’s Not All Gravy. Though the original was printed decades ago, so much of it really rings true—and still strikes at the heart of what makes moms struggle with nobility and fulfillment in motherhood: ourselves. (The emphasis here is mine.)

While I’ve been trying to sort out all these things associated with motherhood, I keep wondering why there is so much unrest among women today, even those who have had a satisfying career outside the home before deciding to become full-time homemakers. Then I realized the unrest comes out of a loss of pride. Modern thinking has managed to strip us of any glimmer of the kind of pride our mothers could feel for their role.

It’s true that modern ideology still advocates free choice, but somehow the choice of full-time homemaker doesn’t garner the same respect and interest as choosing to be an astronaut. . . .

Under the circumstances, it’s no wonder women are in such turmoil. Society has force-fed us its version of the “modern woman” — exciting, sophisticated, fulfilled, and working outside the home. So when a woman finds her fulfillment at home, she automatically starts questioning and comparing. That is especially true of the women who had a different career first.

I found this fascinating. I often wonder if I’d had more time to “establish” my career before I had children, if I’d had those years to live for myself (and my husband) after college, if maybe I wouldn’t struggle so much to find fulfillment now.

Conversely, though, I can’t help but wonder if that time living for myself would have just made it harder to “give it all up” to become a full-time mom. I mean, I had a hard enough time giving up what little I’d had.

What do you think? Does having a career outside the home before children make it harder or easier to become a full-time mom? How does your career (former or current) interplay with your fulfillment from motherhood?

Photo by Brian Talbot

Carol Bartz is a busy woman. She’s a CEO (again), a breast cancer survivor, a community volunteer—and, oh yeah, a mom. While her children are now grown, she’s had all these balls in the air at the same time,

Five years ago, when she still had children at home, Business Week interviewed her. Toward the end of their article, they highlighted her commitment to family:

Bartz showed up for a board meeting one night with a hugely swollen leg. Turns out, she had rushed from work to her daughter’s soccer game and slipped, twisting her ankle. She hobbled to the game, then limped to the board meeting. Because the . . . freezer had no ice, she ended up sitting with a bag of frozen peas on her foot. But she carried on as usual, Nierenberg says. . . .

Bartz encourages her employees to have a life outside of work as well. Autodesk’s staffers can receive several hours off a month to help out at their children’s schools. A few weeks ago, Bartz taught 60 or so of her employees’ kids, who showed up for the company’s bring-your-kids-to-work day, how to execute a real business handshake (hand should not be limp, look the person in the eye).

How does Carol Bartz juggle all these roles? The interview hinted at that as well—but I think the two biggest keys are perspective and priorities.

First, she placed her family as her highest priority:

Ever since her daughter, who’s now 15, was in elementary school, Bartz would sit down with her at the beginning of each school year and promise to come to certain school events — say, a Christmas concert or the Halloween party. “I don’t care if the Pope comes to Autodesk, I’m still going to spend that time with her,” she says. Recently, she canceled a business dinner to attend her daughter’s first prom.

Second, Carol recognized that she wasn’t going to be perfect:

I have a belief that life isn’t about balance, because balance is perfection. Rather, it’s about catching the ball before it hits the floor.

I may not be a CEO, or even employed outside the home, but I take encouragement from that counsel. And you know what? Sometimes even the best jugglers drop the balls. What do they do? They pick them up and keep practicing.

How have you caught the ball before it hit the floor? How have you continued after dropping the ball?

Photo credit: juggle balls—Dani Simmonds

“You should go back to work.”

How many times do SAHMs get this message a day? How many times are we bombarded with images of moms that have it all—a fulfilling career, happiness as a mother, a happy marriage, a good income, a beautiful home, fabulous vacations, loving and obedient children, and basically every dream they ever wanted coming true?

I feel like I find an example of someone I should envy like that every day. But I also know that, although we’ve been told we really can have it all, and have it all right now, we can’t. As Tina Fey said in an interview with Parade Magazine:

I think my generation has been slightly tricked in that you’re really encouraged to try to have it all.

Even Oprah has admitted that we can’t really have it all right now. There are seasons in life—and many of us choose to be at home with our children during the season where they are at home all day.

As if providing for small, needy, dependent people weren’t emotionally demanding enough, we also receive these daily messages that we’re not doing enough (maybe this is why we end up with kids in eight sports, learning six different instruments, at three different summer camps . . . ). Raising our children isn’t enough: we should be “productive.” We should “contribute to society” (my rant on how nothing contributes more to society than raising children will wait for another day). We should be in a “real job” (ha!).

Perhaps most discouraging of all is when someone who appears to mean well tells us we should be working outside the home for ourselves, after we’ve made the sometimes-difficult-but-always-challenging decision to stay home with our children for their benefit. Because, implies this person trying to be helpful, stay-at-home moms do nothing for themselves and allow themselves to be devalued.

This kind of advice automatically assumes that all work in the home is demoralizing and all work outside the home is fulfilling. IT’S NOT.

The fact of the matter is that very, very, VERY few jobs are inherently fulfilling on a daily basis, motherhood included (though I believe and hope that ultimately, motherhood will be the most fulfilling occupation I could devote myself to). Most people I know, at least from time to time, feel like Sisyphus in their jobs—mothers, teachers, loan document specialists, production managers, nurses, web content developers, accountants, social workers, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

While yes, some people find a measure of fulfillment in the fact that their work is rewarded verbally or monetarily, I think that in the end, fulfillment does not come from external sources.

Fulfillment comes from within us. That’s kind of the underlying point of a lot of the steps to fulfillment that I’ve been working on. Fulfillment is rooted in recognizing the good moments and being content with our lives.

If I can’t be content with my (already quite stressed, thank you very much) life as a stay-at-home mom, why would working outside the home, adding more stress and increasing the pressure on me to influence, appreciate, guide, discipline and most of all show my love for my children in a fraction of the time, suddenly make me more fulfilled?

Yes, I know that some mothers do truly enjoy working outside the home and do truly feel like better mothers because of this. But just like staying at home doesn’t work for every mother, another mother’s ability/need/appreciation of working outside the home doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone, no, not even every mother who struggles with motherhood (and, honestly, who doesn’t struggle from time to time?).

The first step to fulfillment—as a mom, as a working mother, as a human—is learning to be content with our season in life.

What do you think?