Remembering Dr. Maya Angelou, Mom-spiration

Not enough can be said about Dr. Maya Angelou and the impact she had upon the world and particularly this country in her 86 years of living.  She led a rich, full life and was an activist, actor, singer, dancer, writer, speaker, poet, teacher. ..the list goes on and on.  She was also a mom.  A mom who once wrote that "[t]he birth of my son caused me to develop enough courage to invent my life" (Letter to My Daughter).  It's pretty safe to say that Dr. Angelou was never fated to live an ordinary life, and by the time she was 42, she had already been an activist with the Civil Rights movement (working with both Malcolm X and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.), traveled the world as an actor, worked in foreign countries, raised a son who was then a man who was 25 years old, and led a very full life.  What she had not yet done was publish I Know Why the Cage Bird Sings, the work she is now most famous for.  Had she not published that book and the many she would go on to publish afterwards and taken full advantage of the opportunities that arose from them, it is likely that while she would have been a rich person in history and a colorful friend/mentor to those lucky enough to be around her, she would not be the iconic voice of wisdom that she became and that we lost last week.  It is awe-inspiring to me that much of her success was due, she believed, to her experience of raising her son, Guy.

Much is made of the way motherhood takes us "away" from who we are and what we want to accomplish.  We do "sacrifice" a lot, particularly to the early years of parenting, however, there is also inspiration and motivation and reinvention inherent in being a mother that was, perhaps, too emphasized in the past and not mentioned enough now.  Now that we know how many years we were fated to have Dr. Angelou, I suppose it is only natural to wonder how much better off we all might have been if we could have had those first 42 years she spent with a semi-private life (I mean, how private can I really call the life of a performer and dedicated humanitarian and civil rights activist?).  However, much of those years were spent experiencing what would become the material for her writing and her life's work. She was raising her son into manhood, and she was also raising herself beyond the limitations she never knew she had placed on herself before learning who she really wanted and deserved to be (and also who Guy deserved her to be).

I wonder if, during those years, she felt many of the frustrations I feel as a mother of young children.  How many books did she compose in her head only to lack the time to write them down?  How much of her wise counsel to the world was lost in  a world of scraped knees, stomachaches, and sleepless nights?  I can't even seem to get my weekly blog done on time, not from lack of ideas, but from lack of opportunity to get my ideas down.  Entire novels have been born, flourished, and died from lack of time (and increasingly) lack of talent.  My fiction skills are rusty from lack of use.  The metaphorical number two pencil in my brain has a cracking, dried eraser and a broken tip.   I am not comparing myself to Dr. Angelou who clearly surpasses me in all things, but I am drawing a parallel between the life a woman leads while parenting young children and the life she can lead once her children are grown.  I don't think Dr. Angelou would disagree with me as she writes in one of her autobiographies, it was only after her son grew up and said to her, "I love you, Mom.  Maybe now you'll have a chance to grow up" (The Heart of a Woman) that she felt released to really focus solely who she wanted to be and what she wanted to accomplish (much of which was for the benefit of us all).

The truth is that Dr. Angelou might have been able to be more productive (incredible thought!  a woman who was so productive could have produced even more!) had she never been a mother, but who she was and what she had to say might not have been as wise.  She let being a mother not only define her, but also refine her into the woman we would all grow to love after she was in her forties.  I am no Dr. Angelou, but I am inspired by her.  I know there are women out there who do it all and I am inspired by them, too, but I'll bet if I talked to those who I think are "doing it all," I will learn that they feel that they are not doing everything as well as they would like, either.  I do not know how much time I will have on this earth and if I had to make a choice between raising my young sons or honing my skills into be a great writer, I will choose my sons because the experiences I am having raising them and learning from them are making me a better person and (I hope) making them better people, too.  However, it is my hope that I am not choosing one over the other, but rather choosing one first and then the other.  I am taking the chance that while my skills may be getting rusty that I am keeping as sharp as I can with the writing I do manage to accomplish (as flawed and rife with embarrassing typos such as it is) and, more importantly, I am using my experience as a mother to grow as a human being and to develop a wiser, kinder, and sharper mind.  God willing, I, too, will have a second act in me and I will get all of the cobwebs and dust out of my mind and begin to write again perhaps better than I ever did before because of all my sons and family have given me to experience.  Not all of us can be a Dr. Angelou, but all of us can learn and be inspired by her and the way she used motherhood to inspire her to be a better person.

Rest in peace, Dr. Angelou.  You were a mother, friend, and teacher to us all.
Thanks for reading,
Shawna

Attached Parenting isn't about Better Kids

I'm going to let you in on a secret. I do not try to use gentle discipline and attached parenting ideas because I think my kid is going to turn out to be better than anyone else's. Sure, I read the blogs and the articles about how attached children are more empathetic, are better at problem solving, etc., but, truthfully, I feel like however my son ends up as an adult will be more of a reflection of who he has always been and the choices he's made about himself than who I have "made" him. He is responsible for his own choices, good or bad, and although I am trying very hard to demonstrate how to make good choices and what good choices look like, I know that I will never be able to make his choices for him. Only he can decide who he will be. I'm just here to try to shape his ideas of what that can look like and to give him the love and safety he needs to explore who that is. I am perfectly aware that there is the distinct possibility that no matter how ultimately successful I am at trying to gentle discipline/attached parent my child, he might not turn out better than anyone else's child and I'm okay with that.

In my former, pre-mom life, I used to work in a school with children with emotional and behavioral issues. These children were all on IEPs and most were in need of basic social skills learning. (For example, lessons included: here are the steps to use to respond to positive feedback, here are the steps to giving negative feedback, here are the signs you are feeling angry, scared, etc.) Again and again, as part of an amazing staff there, we worked to help the students learn that no one could "make" you angry or make an unsafe choice. You can do nothing about another person's choice, you can only make your own choices when you respond and hope that they choose to respond to you by making better choices of your own. You are never responsible for another person's behavior, but you are responsible for all of your behavior and your reactions to others. It is a lesson that I have definitely carried into my parenting escapades.

So, here's the truth: my wonderful, beautiful son who was worn constantly, still sleeps with us, whom I have really tried to gentle parent as much as I can (I do make lots of mistakes, though, and lose my temper from time to time) is a typical three year old with behavior identical to most three year olds. My son yells, he sometimes makes dangerous choices like trying to pull down his bookshelf full of toys last Saturday because he was mad his dad was leaving to go to a football game, at a friend's house a few months ago, he got into a brief scuffle with another gentle parented 3 year old and threw wood chips at him instead of resolving their differences peaceably, last Sunday he kicked over a pumpkin instead of getting into a picture with the other grandchildren at his grandma's house, and last night, inexplicably (he seemed to be in a good mood), he approached his dinner plate as if he were going to get in his chair and eat and then threw his dinner on the ground and intentionally smeared the ketchup on the floor.

This is a good time for me to point out again. .. I am not responsible for my son's behavior. =o) However, I am responsible for making him understand that he is responsible for his choices and their consequences. I am responsible for my responses to his choices and my own behavior. That is why I try to use relationship based parenting and that is why I use tools like "the comfort corner," framing behaviors as "good/bad choice" and try to keep my relationship with my son primary . . . even when I'm feeling helpless and like this "gentle discipline" thing has failed; my child is a mess! The thought that "this isn't fair; I'm doing everything right and it isn't working" does cross my mind from time to time, but then I remember that this really isn't about him right now. It's about me and my choices and who I want to be as a mom. I don't like myself when I give into anger and yell and behave like a crazy woman. I don't respect myself when I make crazy choices like behaving petulantly toward my own three year old (as if THAT is going to be effective). Raising a child is not the same thing as "making" a product. What you and I are doing today may not have immediate, tangible results. We can only hope that by showing our children how we take responsibility for our own actions and choices, by teaching them the agency of their own actions, and by providing them with the best loving relationship we can that they will choose to be the best people they can be all on their own.

I don't think I'm a better mother than anyone else I know. In fact, I spend a lot of time worried that I'm nowhere near as good as most the other mothers I know! I'm not trying to make my son better than anyone else's child. I'm just doing the best I can and that's all I can ask of him, too.

Thanks for Reading,
Shawna

The Never Ending Mommy Wars

When I became a mother, my life changed, and an entire world I knew nothing about took over. I had a mountain of decisions to make, and didn’t know which way to go. Those first lonely months at home with my newborn were really overwhelming. Mommy blogs and message boards were just becoming popular, and so, I turned to the internet for companionship. It was the easiest way to find and talk with other moms.

At first I was first impressed with the amount of information I found and felt comforted by the fact that there were so many women like me, who wanted to share and connect with people, even if it was just through a computer screen. But then I became aware of something that goes on not just on the internet, but in real life, as well: the mommy wars. Breast vs. bottle; work vs. stay at home; c-section vs. natural birth; Ferber vs. Sears; rear facing vs. forward facing car seats; Stride Rite vs. Payless; and pretty much any parenting decision you could imagine is challenged, dissected, and ultimately condemned by someone out there who disagrees. 

I frequented one popular mommy site in particular, and the arguing that ensued there over nearly everything was reminiscent of a soap opera. Sharing that I was going to return to work full time when my son was six months old, I was blasted by strangers who knew nothing about me as being selfish, greedy, self-serving, and letting someone else raise my child. If only those women could have been with me to feel my heart being wrenched out of my body every single time I had to leave my child with a stranger. If only they knew the feeling of being ripped apart limb from limb, the condemnation I put myself through for not being responsible enough with money when I was younger so that I could afford to stay home; for thinking having a baby and going back to work would be a piece of cake; for not being there every single time my son cried.

I couldn’t believe that any woman, stranger on the web or not, would think or imply that I was any less caring or any less of a parent than she because I worked outside the home. Even worse, I had a very high intervention birth, I formula fed, and did not wear my baby, and those choices were put down too.

Eventually I realized that the worst of the criticism was coming from myself. As a first time parent, I was unsure of many of the choices I was making. I allowed people to make me feel like a poor parent because I felt like one already.

I started asking myself questions about how I was parenting and why. Over time I started frequenting different internet sites and became exposed to different groups of women, a couple in particular who challenged my decisions in a gentle, but thought provoking, manner. I went back to the drawing board with my parenting. I spent hours and hours researching vaccines; circumcision, breast-feeding, natural birth, baby wearing, cloth diapers, and much more. I changed what I could with my son, and swore to myself that when the next baby came, my husband and I would make decisions because we were informed, not because it was what everyone else was doing.

I suppose at that point I was no longer a mainstream parent. I honestly felt like I would be welcomed into the non-mainstream community, and that it would be wonderful to sit back and say, “Isn’t it just great that we all accept each other?”

Unfortunately, the mommy wars are never ending. I very quickly became aware of another facet to this side effect of parenthood, and it is the AP (attachment parenting), or crunchy, moms vs. the mainstream moms. One side attacks the other and each struggles to come back with something proving that they are the better parents. It’s really sad, it’s really disappointing, and what’s been particularly surprising for me has been that even the like-minded moms argue amongst themselves.

Even in the non-mainstream parenting circles, I often find that there seems to be a certain set of rules and standards that moms are held up to in order to be Good Parents. Among those are: cloth diapering, co-sleeping, no pacifier, breast-feeding, child led weaning, elimination communication, drugless births, delaying solids, organic eating, home schooling, and more. (I’ve done most of these with my second child and plan to continue with my third—and I still don’t feel crunchy enough). If a mother does not adhere to all of these rules yet she claims to be an AP parent, she is criticized and ultimately, over time, becomes ostracized from the very circle she sought to join. And amongst the blue ribbon pedigreed AP moms, there is a lot of patting on the back, a lot of self-congratulatory comments and behavior, a lot of self-satisfaction and praise for each other for being the Perfect Parent.

Isn’t attachment parenting about not conforming to anyone else’s rules? Isn’t it about child-led parenting? Isn’t it about listening to your baby and child’s cues, and doing the best you can? If every child is different, then what works for one will not work for another. There is no set of standards, or at least there shouldn’t be in my opinion. Since when did it become a battle of who uses the most organic cloth diapers, who doesn’t get the epidural, who breastfeeds the longest? Since when have using a pacifier or the Ferber method become acceptable reasons for casting someone out, for ending friendships? It startles me that we can go on and on about accepting and being gentle with our children when we don’t do it with each other.

Though these types of disagreements happen everywhere, the online world seems to be the worst. I’ve read comments on message boards that seriously make me cringe. Why are people so beastly on the internet? Is it because they hide behind their keyboard, never having to face the consequences of their words? Do people become bolder when they are tapping the keys away well into the middle of the night, instead of having to actually speak with someone? I wonder how many of these Perfect Mothers would tout their credentials with fervor in a room full of real people, instead of in a virtual chat room or on a message board?

Why don’t we think better of ourselves as women? Why don’t we hold ourselves to higher standards? Don’t we realize that by fighting amongst ourselves we perpetuate the unfortunate stereotypes that women are catty, backstabbing, and dishonest? Even the phrase “mommy wars” makes me feel like we’re just a bunch of loud-mouthed, cat-fighting witches.

While I don’t believe in circumcision, don’t practice crying it out, selectively vaccinate on my own schedule, am obsessive about eating well, and am insanely passionate about breastfeeding and car seat safety, among other things, the thought that I couldn’t be friends with a mother, in real life, or on the internet, who doesn’t do all these things exactly as I do, never occurred to me. I talk to my real life mom friends and family about the wealth of knowledge I have acquired and how valuable it is to me, but I would never dream of ending my interaction with a mother based on whether or not she actually followed my path. Frankly, if I believe my way is best, and I’m hoping to get other moms over on my side, the best way to do that is with gentle advice, guidance, and support. I’ve never had any luck convincing anyone of anything when I’ve criticized them and made them defensive.

As much as I pride myself on making our food from scratch, staying away from processed snacks, and as pristine as our diet is the vast majority of the time, occasionally you may find Chex Mix (for me) or Cheez Its (for my husband) in my pantry. I nursed my daughter for two and a half years, and she enjoyed a pacifier for two of those years. In my home, we all prefer to sleep in our own beds. I don’t have homebirths. My kids eat Amy’s Organic frozen pizza. I gave up my all-natural shampoo recently because after getting a sample of Aveeno in the mail, my hair was so much shinier and manageable that I couldn’t go back. Some days I recycle like a mad woman, and some days I just throw the toilet paper roll into the regular trash. Why? Because I don’t have a crunchy checklist. And because I’m human. There’s so much to keep track of and manage, and sometimes one of the balls I’m juggling falls to the floor. And that’s OK.

You can be a good parent, a great parent, in fact, and make none of the choices I have made. I know I went through a period where, internally at least, I was judgmental of other mothers and the way they raised their children. I know I was self-righteous and thought I had it all figured out. Finally branching out in my neighborhood and making some real friends has helped me get over my judgment. I’ve come full circle. Sure, I’m opinionated—and I love to share information about what I’m doing. But I’m finally confident enough in myself to not pay too much attention to what other people are doing. I no longer feel the need to brag about my natural living or parenting skills. In fact, amongst my friends, none of us do things exactly the same. And I like it that way!

I’m finally home full time and ecstatic to be so; and make the best choices I can for my family. My husband and I parent as human beings, good human beings. We love our children; we parent them instinctively, and will continue to do so. If something works for us, great, and it doesn’t matter which umbrella it falls under, the mainstream or the AP. 

I certainly don’t measure a good mother by how long she breastfed, or what kind of labor she had, or whether her baby sleeps in a crib or not. I don’t find it necessary to alienate mothers for using the cry it out method, or for giving solids in a time frame I deem as too soon; because I know that they are good mothers. They love their children, and they do what they think is best. I wouldn’t take my friendship away from a woman who chose to have an elective c-section at 40 weeks—I would try with all my might to warn her, and give her information, but the idea that she is a bad mother or doesn’t love her baby is ridiculous. Often, moms make these types of choices because they don’t know that there is another way—and I know that because I was one of those mothers.

And of course, the judgment comes from both sides. It is because of the harsh words and comments from the mainstream community, and because they sting, that I am disappointed to find that the other side engages in this war, as well. I guess since it seems as if non-mainstream parents hold themselves to a higher standard when it comes to their living and parenting choices, I hoped that would apply to them as human beings, as well.

I feel for the new mothers, the ones who struggle the way I did, to find the right way. I fear the rejection and judgment they will face when they enter an environment full of Perfect Mothers for the first time, whichever side of the spectrum they are on. It saddens me, as a woman and a mother, that we cannot find common ground in simply loving our children the best way we know how.