Relief

Well, maybe not for you if you keep reading this, for I am about to whine loooong and hard.

Huz has committed to taking one consistent day off a week in the coming year. I am quite excited and relieved. Sound pathetic? Welcome to the life of a wife of a chef. Bean’s first year on Earth was hell on me largely because I had no help and I was in the house with him almost constantly (for a long time, he wasn’t a fan of going out and about; thankfully he likes it now). Huz had just been promoted and his world was rocked. I recovered from surgery alone, had Bean 16-18 hours a day alone (I accepted no offers of help from friends, I just didn’t know how to at that time, and in retrospect I wish someone had beat down the door and forced me to). I basically learned how to be a parent alone, alone, alone. Huz has since lived at work. I never know until each morning if he is going to be home for a bit or gone from sunrise until 1AM or what. One consistent day a week when I know I will have help will make a world of difference for me.

Here is an excerpt from a convo in my home:

Huz: My career makes it possible to live how we live.
Me: Your career makes it impossible for us to live any other way. We live in this expensive place because of proximity to your job; I wanted to go to a much cheaper neighborhood but you refused.
Huz: If we moved to a cheaper, further-away place I would never be at home.
Me: How would that be any different?
Me again: I need you to promise that you will schedule the same day off every week. Tell them I am going to be working and it is a non-negotiable day.
Huz: I will do my best, sometimes things happen though.
Me: How am I supposed to work if “things happen”? I will get fired within a month. It is going to be hard enough to find something I can do one day a week that isn’t in the adult entertainment industry.
Huz: There are lots of things you can get hired to do once a week. And if I have to go in I will make it at night after you get home. Chances are you will work during the day.
Me: Okay, that is one more limit you are placing on me. And what are the many things that I can be hired for once a week? Cleaning houses? No thank you, did that as an undergrad. Maybe piloting private planes? That would be a perfect idea if I had a fucking pilot’s license. I’m going to substitute teach so I can put my education degrees to some kind of use. It’s not ideal, but it’s the only thing I can think of under these circumstances. Still, I can’t create something even once a week if it is always going to come after your career.

(return to start of conversation and repeat in a neverending loop)

It’s kinda like the “who’s on first?” gag, except not at all charming.

I feel for him. He has worked so very hard to build something for himself, and for us. Yet my sleep, my food, my showers are not my own. His are. I go for walks by myself once a week if I am lucky. He goes for walks every day. I just need something for myself.

I can’t believe I am about to say this cliche thing, because we are us, and this wasn’t supposed to happen to us, but at times I feel like am like a second-class citizen as the person who takes care of the child and makes no money. Either one of us was willing to stay home (and ideally work from home with a sitter for Bean in the next room) in these first few years when we had a child, and I was the one who was making less money at the time that Bean arrived. It was just a matter of circumstance. Huz was my muchacho de la casa until I made the kinda insane decision to leave my fast-track corporate shizz to go back to non-profit (I had grown miserable feeling like I was devoting my life to making a bunch of old white men rich; money schmoney, said I, because once you grow accustomed to eating $800 meals for two, there really are only so many clubs and restaurants and hotels out there that can knock your socks off unless you are maybe in Dubai). I returned to non-profit only to get the shit-end of a ” choice to opt-out” after what was supposed to be a virtual gig fell through via office politics. I gambled and lost.

I digress. 

It made sense that I would stop working and I am grateful to be able to be home with Bean right now. But somehow in this transition to me becoming a sahp (I like that better, thanks for setting that example, Theresa!) Huz’s sleep, his debts, his everything have become the priority. How did this happen? How did our financial inequality create such vast inequalities across the board? I am just as much at fault as he is, for wanting to “protect him” from many of the realities of raising his own child this past year so he could perform optimally at work. I was scared out of my mind to be relying on his income and insurance benefits. I wanted him to be a superstar at work, to the point of my own mental and physical deterioration. Should he have swooped in to save me from this way of thinking? Or should I have said fuck that, you are getting up with this baby even though he just screams louder when you do, I don’t care if you just worked a 16 hour day and have to go back for another in 6 hours?

And does it really matter whose fault it is, anyway? Huz is a stellar husband and dad, I can’t stress that enough; he is just a very tired one who is not yet sure how to get out of the cycle he is in, and I’ve learned how to enable from the best.  The bottom line is that we are trying to function in a dysfunctional situation. Like my dear Kurt Vonnegut wrote in his final published book, “When a couple has an argument nowadays…what they are really saying to each other, though without realizing it, is this: ‘You’re not enough people!’ A husband, a wife and some kids is not a family. It’s a terribly vulnerable survival unit.” - A Man Without a Country

It’s exhausting to think about, this loop we are currently in.

What’s that you say? Hire childcare? Oooh, yes, let’s pay someone 70% of whatever I will likely make in my initial return to social services. I would looooove to be away from Bean all the time to make what amounts to a few bucks over minimum wage after we pay the sitter/daycare/whathaveyou (my heart hurts for the many people who do not have the luxury of refusing this option like I do). Besides, until Bean learns to speak, everybody scares us. We only trust our moms and sisters to look after him while he’s pre-verbal, and they live over a thousand miles away. Talk about a tough commute.

Okay, I’m done for now. Thank you for your eyes and your brain. Don’t think badly of me for being a whiney schlub when my situation is 1. self-created and 2. a billion times better than oh, at least a billion other people. I am just doing the best I can to make sense of it all and be a happy person.

When “choices” clash

Ahoy.

I’ve been asked to look after the infant of a family friend,”for money, of course”. You know, because my current role as a layabout sahm has left me desperate for cash and something to do.

Seriously, the choices (if they can be called choices…more like coping mechanisms in an anti-family society) of some dear friends have always been very different than ours. The fella and Huz seem to have the same discussion of the pros and cons of daycare vs. one-income living every time they talk. The fella and his wife feel that I am wasting my education and ruining my career prospects, and not giving Bean proper socialization nor the opportunity to build up his immune system by my not working for pay outside the home and sending Bean to daycare. They are unaware of the circumstances surrounding my ”choice to opt-out” (ha! ha ha haaaaaaaa!) and I don’t particularly care to enlighten them on the specifics. No point. Their minds are already made up and I am not here to convert them to my way of thinking. It has been annoying to be judged like this, but I’ve just agreed to disagree and told Huz I don’t know why he gets sucked into the debate time and time again.

But now: their second child, at three months, is not coping well with daycare. He’s got a bad belly, it seems; loose poops, problems with formula, ongoing minor illnesses, etc etc. The daycare keeps sending him home. The center doesn’t want the liability of dealing with what I guess they feel is a less-than-hearty infant. So in seeking a solution, their thoughts have turned to me. If I am already hanging around at home, I should be happy to have the opportunity to make a little money, right?

Nah. It is already unnatural for a person to be alone all the time with one baby, let alone two, especially with them being so close in age. I told Huz to say I wish them the best but have my hands full with Bean and my writing projects. I suppose there is no polite way to tell them I would be happy to donate a few ounces of breastmilk every day for the baby. I’m still nursing Bean so it would be no trouble. The fella can easily pick it up on his way home from work each night. 

They would probably stop talking to us if I offered.

I’m not trying to be political with the suggestion. I just believe that breastmilk could help. Of course, I also believe that they should not have bought more house than they could afford, requiring them to put both kids in daycare full-time and almost negating the salary one of them is making, and that if I were them I would sell the place, move in with their nearby family and have one spouse quit working to be with the kids at least until the baby gets better, but I’m not going to say that, either. I know how much it sucks to be judged based on incomplete information. It also sucks to feel like I am letting down people by refusing to help them in a time of need. I simply believe it would cause more problems than it would solve if I looked after an infant in addition to Bean, no matter how well I was compensated (although it’s likely that the compensation would be quite low).

Here I am once again, with new revelations brought on by parenthood. Who knew I would ever consider it a great idea to essentially be a volunteer wet nurse for friends? Who knew I would ever feel so strongly about any of these things? I am surprising myself daily.

————————————————–

In another parenting “choice” convo today, I was told by someone who had two healthy deliveries and uninterrupted nursing during both of her minimal hospitals stays that she “wished she could have had a c-section” like me. She wishes that her child’s life were in such danger that it required major emergency surgery to extract him quickly so he could be saved? She went on to say how common c-sections were in her mother’s group. That’s right, they are rilly, rilly popular. It’s the in thing to do, the top-notch choice of the weak and the too-posh-to-push. I’m sure that all of those women were pleased to death that they ”got to be taken care of for so long afterward”. Never mind the mind-numbing terror of it all, the catheter, and the physical and emotional pain that lingers for months. Just think of those fabulous 3 extra days you get in the hospital before they kick you out! Hell, some babies like Bean even have to stay behind! What a great break for the parents!

I know she was just trying to say that she wish she had been able to rest more after her deliveries, but damn, what a misguided way of saying so.

I am having one hell of a time trying to maintain my friendships with other parents during these past few days. I won’t even get into the guns-in-the-house-with-kids debate I recently found myself carefully navigating through. 

I seem to be allowing myself to feel very defensive for some reason, too. I need to stop that. They can all bite me. Bring on The Beavers.

Note to self

Dearest Self,

Do not celebrate the rapid appreciation of your real estate after being named one of the “hottest neighborhoods” in the country until you see what it does to your property taxes. It’s not pretty. Not pretty at all.

A sahm for a short time,

B.

P.S. Who knew that a neighborhood considered “dead at night” and “for the adventurous” could bring such swift joy and pain?

Necessary dialogue

This should be good.

From the MomsRising e-newsletter:

Starting today, one of our favorite blog sites, the Huffington Post, is partnering with MomsRising to launch a series of blogs about work/life issues.  It features the powerful voices of leading writers and thinkers who care deeply about the issues facing families in the workplace. I have the honor of setting the stage and introducing these luminaries.  We invite you to join the conversation with us in this blog space.  Here’s a bit I wrote about the intention of this new venture:

“This new column is about consciousness raising and culture change.   Very few Americans realize that there is deep bias against mothers in this country and that we are undermining family’s ability to care for children.”

CHECK IT OUT: To read and respond to the inaugural Work/Life post in this new blog space, click here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/joan-blades/a-peaceful-revolution_b_63729.html  

It’s alright, Ma, it’s life and life only

Please indulge me as I rattle off some rhetorical and likely unoriginal questions:

How is it acceptable to our society that people who stay home with their children during infancy are considered “lucky”? How is it the norm that parents are considered lazy, or quitters, or opt-outs if they decide to do so? Why are they penalized for it in so many ways? Why is it considered a luxury to be with your own baby?

Why do welfare-to-work-ish programs ensure separation of parents and their “at-risk” children? Is that part of their punishment for being poor? Doesn’t this separation make them even more at-risk, far beyond the circumstances that necessitate welfare?

Why is the imagery of the bored and lonely housewife used as such a widespread joke? Is the isolation of such a large number of people really all that amusing? “Lonely housewives” are having a natural response to an unnatural situation. Is their loneliness a joke because they are surrounded by stuff that many other families can’t afford, even though they and their children suffer from the isolation?

Why is an aquaintance of mine called “spoiled” because her mother is going to fly in from Haiti and stay with her for a few months to help her after she gives birth? The word spoiled describes being overindulged to one’s detriment. Having a relative help you become a mother makes you spoiled?

Have you ever met a father who was able to take his 12 weeks of allotted FMLA time to spend with his new baby? How about even 3 or 4 weeks?

Why do we as a society largely accept and even unconsciously promote anti-family attitudes? Are we threatened by our own humanity and need for others?

I’m just asking.

Praise God/dess

Not only are the Beavers back together, but the mortgage will be paid. A banner day for The Beans.

I’ve been bugging out about some job tension with Huz, but all is well. This “sahm” shit is scary as hell sometimes. I am accustomed to buying Huz presents and taking him to criminally expensive restaurants; to telling him to go where his work passions lie and I will foot the bills while he figures it out. Now I quake at the thought of him leaving or losing the only (fantastic but highly stressful) paying job we’ve got.

Brave thing, this sahm role. Brave indeed. Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Oh wait, yes I would: a mother’s helper to look after Bean while I telework. Pie in the sky? Bite me. It can be done and it will be done. Until I make it happen, and I will make it happen, I’ve gotta stay brave.

One more reason I am glad I force myself to be social

I have heard that mothers’ groups can be tricksy beasts, but you never really know how they’re going to be until you actually make yourself go.

I’ve written about my aversion to all things groupish, which I think is common enough in people, but I have reaaaally tried to be more social since Bean was born. Not so much in those first 5 months when I felt like a shell of a human being most days, but not long after that, I made myself mingle. Even on days when I was crying, on days that I did not want to get dressed, on days that I just seemed to be swirling within a vortex of suck, I have gotten myself and Bean out the door and with people. That is a major freaking accomplishment for someone like me, I don’t mind telling you.

Granted, the days when we do manage to get to a meetup are few and far between, as Bean always seems to be sleeping or eating riiiiiight about the time we are supposed to be somewhere, but we have made it to some by now. I am grateful for them. I am glad I didn’t believe the hype about mothers’ groups being exclusive, or full of competi-mommies, or whatever the latest Momo y Momo garbage the media or some ad-driven blogger wants you to believe. Besides, I have my ways of handling people who act crazy; I can always shut shit down with a few choice words and teacherface.

The Crafty Mamas group is very attractive to me, although I know I will never be that hip and am not overly concerned with trying. They have a lot to teach, those broads.  They bake their own bread and grow their own vegatables within homemade, indoor greenhouses; diaper one child in cloth and homeopathic paste whilst others ride on their backs in handmade wraps, all the while blaring Skinny Puppy and simmering vegetarian feasts in preparation for the others to arrive so they can discuss their dreamy homebirths at the hands of their highly experienced and dreadlocked midwives. Fine by me, I ain’t scared. They can regard my lack of experience with disdain all damn day, I am there to talk with them and learn from them and take home what works for me. What DOES intimidate me about them are the simple facts that 1. they refer to themselves as like a ”family” (eek! how hard is that to feel welcome in?) and 2. have an active messageboard (eek eek! you know how messageboards can devolve). Kinda scary for a socially anxious person to approach but they do rock.

Still, I find myself most comfortable with the broads that created an off-shoot of the Stay at Home Moms meetup. The irony of this is not lost on me (and actually, most of them do have paid employment of some kind). 

I do not just feel more comfortable because the renegade sahms live near me and therefore my germophobe self can avoid going on the el with Bean (I used to work with immuno-compromised kids so I have always been careful, but Bean’s hospitalization sent me over the edge into what could be considered germ-phobic territory). I go to their renegade sahm group because I like them, I really like them. They are interesting and enthusiastic and kind. We get together casually and fairly often. Okay, they do. I do what I can and usually show up late. You know what? They don’t mind.

So besides the interactive time for Bean and me, there is now one more reason I am glad I force myself to be social…

Today I actually did make it over to someone’s house for Bean to play a while. We had a nice little time for ourselves. As we were leaving, I noticed that one mom had a bag embroidered with the logo of a study I worked on pre-Bean. I was all, “No way, you know that study?!” and she was all, “I’m coordinating it now” and I was all, “Shut up!”  (I know, I am a mental giant when I get excited) and she was all, “Are you trained in the protocol? Because we are looking for people to do field work in January” and do want to know what?????

I will have a little help in January with childcare! I may actually have a flexible part-time gig that is not Mary-freaking-Kay AND actually utilizes my degrees and experience. Do you know what that is? THAT is a fine thing, my people. A fine thing, indeed. Honestly, though, even if this par-ticular gig doesn’t work out for some reason, it was a welcome reminder that there is something out there for me, and cool things happen all the time.

I like this.

Look for Melinda in the comments.

I can accept the label of homemaker. Writer, advocate and homemaker. Me. Yes. I like that. Educator will be added back to that list in time, but I need to gain more peace here, at this time. We all know the brain is a pattern-seeker and labels, damn them all, can simply help us organize our world in a way that makes us feel psychologically safe.

“Homemaker” helps me.

Why is it…

that I complain about feeling lonely and not having any help, but when family comes in from out of town, it exhausts me so? Why do I say I need a break but refuse to have anyone other than Huz or my sister look after Bean, which can almost never happen? Why is it that all I want is for Huz to be home, but during the relatively rare times he is, he so often gets on my nerves?

The thing is, I am pretty freaking content. Weird work stuff aside, I love being home and I love being this kid’s momma. I am even getting decent sleep for the first time in a year. So why am I so damn testy with everyone other than Bean? Am I just so adjusted to it being him and me that everyone else has become an outsider who simply can’t know how we do things in our little world? I am a bitchy mystery, even to me.

Come and visit! Now go away!

Holding firm

Recruiter contacted me…fat salary…close to home…could do the work with my eyes closed (well, at least one eye. Like a pirate!)

BUT

it would require that I put Bean in daycare or pay through the nose for private care, and I just can’t. Or won’t. I won’t. I have my reasons. They’re good ones. But dammit, the financial disparity between Huz and me is killing me. I just cannot seem to get used to it, to trust even him enough to be comfortable with not working. He is insulted by this. It’s our money, he says. Then why am I no longer directing what we invest in, how much we save, or when and how we pay off debts? I am the one who is good with money, I am the one who got him out of dire financial straits after his accident and living la dolce vita in Manhattan. I was the primary earner, actually the only earner for a time. So why can’t I relax when he is? Arrrrrrrrgh.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But it is. So.

This is the work mojo I am putting out to the universe. They are simply key words and phrases. I want this and I will get it. I likely have to create it for myself. Fine. I will. Laugh if you wish, tell me it’s too vague, tell me that there are a million other people who want the same thing and that the average work culture won’t support it. Then you know the drill. Bite me.

Educational technology
Independence
Good money
Writing
Virtual teams
Social service
Strong organizational communication and shared vision

I have actually had this kind of work before. I left it to get more money elsewhere. 

I want it back.