52 reasons: the liberation that binds

There must be something in my Catholic upbringing ??? or my Presbyterian heritage ??? or my feminist orientation or ??? my feminist short-comings or something ??? ... that embarrasses me for my imperfection; and, I like it. It is a part of my identity??? The endless being at loose ends of unknowing and the addictive blamelessness of being put upon.

To stay-at-home, for me, presumes a surrender to a sort of non-victimizing imperfection I have erstwhile not known. I realize today that this is another imprint I took in a time before of why I would not be a stay-at-home parent. To finally take a pass on being the failure. To risk authority and leadership and all manner of grubby words of powerful and accountable identity.
To say home would mean, in some greater measure, an admission that:
1.) I will never be the best parent there is.
2.) But, I am the best parent, or caregiver, my children can have.
And other such things of knowing.

Gasp! Responsibility! Now there's a reason I thought I could not be a stay at home parent. Still, to unburden myself of all my childish self-centredness and my long-standing focus on failures -- gripping in the darkness every potential for failure -- could I do it? It would bespeak of a paradigm shift come of parenting, most certainaly. It can be pretty alluring. Especially when the blessings we have are adequate in number as to offer such a diminution of risk even a scaredy cat like me has a good chance to overcome. Hmmmm....

Wishing you all many blessings and for the success of every heart's hope this Thanksgiving. xoxox my pretties! love mo-wo

Internet Burkha

I fear working full time but that is the work I have taken. A while back I tried on a fearlessness of working full time on this blog.

It was a lie. Sorry, friends. A lie made possible by your unknowing of me. A lie that aided me then, and now. An alternative identity to test.

It is something I have a come to adore about blogging the privileges of anonymity. Like many of you, no doubt, I look down my big ole Western nose at any image of the burkha but maybe I am a hypocrite?

Think about it. Am I alone? Wherefore Mommyblogging?? Is not the facelessness (discorporea?) a part of it? Maybe there is something inherent to certain aspects of the feminine that begs a sort of blindness? Things like motherhood? Dead babies? Wretched disease? Maybe the burkha is not so myopic as my western views attest. Yes, it is a uniformity of women as a class. I get it. I get it. But, it is also a multiplication of identity. Woman within and without the dress, more than a single being, in a manner of speaking. That is how I feel, how I enjoy feeling, in here sometimes.

Burkha, the ancient avatar?


Ah yes, another patented, half-post. But since it never seems one I can finish, might as well put it out there?

ps. nice pic, eh? it belongs to natalie.

52 reasons: Patience

Wow. With my sudden return to work I am way behind with my 52 reasons I cannot be a stay-at-home-parent which are all bunk.

Here is one I have really been bursting to post. I do hear it a lot from other moms and wonder if blogger parents share this one in their arsensal of "rationalist parentings" [sic], hahahahahahahahahahaha. Here goes...

I can't be a stay-at-home-parent because... I am not patient enough.

Do you do that one? I mean I have done that one to death. It is actually pretty much full of it and here's why.

1. I am patient enough.
2. Being patient all the time is not good for children.
3. Pay-as-you-go caregivers are not always patient. I have found I am relatively actually more patient. If you count up the minutes/hours for sure. Yay me!
4. Free caregivers (often known as grandparents) are not patient either they are sort of... well... oblivious, or something.

What is it we are saying when we say we are not patient enough? Is there someone patient enough to hang with a 2 year old and a 4 year old 24/7? Who are these angels of bottomlessnessed giving outlook? What would real children have been like for centuries before if they had access this manner of child-rearing-droid? In the hierarchy of virtues where does patience lie? What am I saying????

Yesterday, was my first day of work and I'll go again tomorrow. It is short to start. I negotiated a part-time graduated entry program; just four hours a day this week. I do love my job, it is a good one. I don't really feel at odds with my "52 reasons I might be a good stay-at-home-parent" while I'm working. The work needs to be done. I am doing it right now, someone needs to. After 23 months out of the workforce it feels nice to fill that need again. I will watch closely how my family feels about it, and these reasons will inevitably help me work through the watching.

Post-Modern Mothering: Fruit of the Poisonous Tree

I tread the path between two rows of beating drums. One row says 'don't make my mistakes' and the other smugly chides me for enjoying it at all. It commands instead for me to resist every urge to take joy in what might, in fact, be a 'bland and futile woman-trap.' I hate this stuff. This is what makes parenting suck and blow as we used to say. It is a scratch at the multi-layer power politics of parenthood.

My source for the crud is my mother and my MILs, for I am blessed with two. In addition I can sometimes count on random strangers to offer it up and then there are a handful of the aunties and etc. etc. Men are not immune, only less effective. All the defeatist claptrap. Isn't this hard enough without all that?

This past week I attended a vacation to my MIL's which was steeped in the propaganda. My own little family living and re-living every resented road trip of my husband's childhood. We worked pretty hard to schlep our way the 6 hour drive to partake of all this so I am a bit piqued just now. I despair at times our imperfection and the dismay over our version of family life from such a key family member.

Am I alone?

I have heard it from others, too. Worst for me is the dialogue of mothers and mother-daughters. Sometimes it is called a sad, uneasy, or tense relationship we feel our predecessors had with being mothers. A hesitancy in the giving, or was it more some regrets, of lives interrupted. As a teenager my mother told me that being a mother ran a weak third to her existence as a worker or friend. Being the sensitive over-thinker I am haven't I reflected on that news about 500 times.

A couple weeks back similar patter was put out around here. I believe what I said to my Mom then was "Could you get some new material?" I didn't have anything so pithy for my MIL who concluded our recent visit with the following: "See I told you so. The family vacation is never any vacation for the mother." I mean 'good to see you too' just didn't seem to cut it. So I stood eyes downcast muttering, "Yes." and "Of course you did." Complicit. Co-opted. Thinking about what others have said already.

I feel there is an overwhelming urge on the part of most parents to mentor. To mentor those who come after. I just don't want these mentors. I prefer the energy from the parenting community online we are more collegial and a measured boosterism is inate here. More in keeping with the unconditional support I crave in my parenting.

I think from here on in I will press myself to forget asking my mother how she ever did it. I will instead think to my grandparents experiences and those before. Those at some distance from the parenting machine that characterised my own upbringing. I am sorry that it sucked for my Mom or p-Ma. I just don't really want to hear it anymore.

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In other news.. Thanks everyone for all the great input on the bibliography. I hope get to work on the annotations shortly.