Wednesday, April 30, 2014

The Never Ending Debate: Stay at home moms vs. Working moms

In the couple of weeks leading up to Mother's Day, you're going to notice a lot of motherhood-related posts here (more than usual). We hope you enjoy them!  

Recently on one of my Facebook posts a debate broke out: Who has it harder, stay at home moms or working moms?

This is, in my humble opinion, one of the hottest debated, and least productive questions I've ever come across.

It began with a silly post about my husband and I bantering about who should make dinner. His well meaning mother joined in, and pointed out that since I chose to stay home and he works, I should make dinner. She then made a comment about how hard he works, and how exhausted he must be at the end of the day. I get it. She is his mother, I made a jab at her son, she needs to come to his defense. But then my husband felt the need to point out that I also work extremely hard and I'm exhausted at the end of the day. He mentioned that he believes between the two of us (he and I) that I have the harder job, being the homemaker, and pregnant mother to two small children is physically and emotionally exhausting after all.

Cue the debate.

Of course, there are no winners in this debate. Only losers. How many times have working moms felt marginalized by stay at home moms, and vice versa? I think in order to understand the debate, we have to know where it is coming from.

Motherhood is often thankless, exhausting, and demoralizing. As mothers, we beat ourselves up about our choices. We question ourselves. We often feel like failures. So often, working mothers feel guilt for not being physically present, though a mother's thoughts are never far from her children. Stay at home mothers also feel guilty when they may feel resentment for their life, isolation, and loneliness. Because motherhood becomes the core of who we are, the yardstick by which our value as human beings is measured, we become defensive of our choices, even if we aren't always sure about them ourselves.

Stay at home moms are often labeled the martyrs of this debate. After all, they don't get the same kind of paycheck, literal or figurative, that working moms get. There is no money rolling in, no validation for the ins and outs of your time. They spend much of their time in isolation, dealing with challenges with little or no support from peers. They long for the day they can use the restroom in peace and quiet. In fact, they long for any sort of peace and quiet. Any ounce of time to themselves is a treasure. There is never reprieve, not even during sleep. Even the very term stay-at-home mom denotes a sort of lesser status, as explained in this recently published Time article. 

Working mothers deal with both the demands of their professional life, and home life simultaneously. They are judged for their choice to leave their family to work outside the home. When they get home, emotional and physical needs of their children still need to be met, dinner still needs to get on the table, and laundry still needs to be folded. They battle with being pulled in two different directions. They are judged by others as putting their careers before their families.  

So obviously, the debate strikes a chord with so many women. Women who feel the need to defend the choices they themselves struggle with on a daily basis. The problem is, the debate pits one hard working woman who constantly sacrifices, against another hard working woman who constantly sacrifices. The debate demeans, demoralizes, marginalizes, and judges others, who are just trying to do the best thing for their most prized treasures: their children.

When I became a mother, I had the fortune of making the choice for myself. For a very short time, it was necessary to work outside the home while I completed my degree in education. I returned to work three weeks after my oldest daughter was born, and completed my semester when she was nearly five months old. I dealt with a lot of guilt, a lot of worry, a lot of questions. I had a newborn to care for, and a classroom of third grade students that I was responsible for. I loved all of those students, and I wanted to do everything possible to create a positive educational experience for them. Yet, my heart was elsewhere. Always. It was excruciating. When I was at home with my daughter all I wanted to do was hold her, tend to her needs, love her. I remember not even letting my husband hold her in church because I missed her all the time. When my semester was over, I spent the entire day holding my baby, crying tears of gratitude for the option that I had to stay home and dedicate my time to being her full time mommy.

Yet, it didn't take long for me to feel completely isolated, alone, worthless.  I no longer had stimulating challenges that allowed me to stretch my talents and intellect. I couldn't enjoy a meal; showering and getting dressed were considered  high achievements. I'd dedicated so much time to developing myself as a professional, and now I might as well have been a nobody. I felt like I'd lost a giant chunk of who I was.

Eventually I found my groove. I was able to recognize talents as a homemaker and mother, and while nobody was validating me, I found an inner peace. Now here I am with two children, sitting on another egg about ready to hatch, and I can appreciate my two different experiences. Both tested me to my limit. Both allowed me to stretch and grow into the mother I am. I would be a different mother if I were a working mother, but that is obvious, because we always have to rise to whatever challenge we are faced with.

 I loved this article recently published at KSL.com, my favorite comment being "I think the only way you could gain approval for your time-management, as a mother, would be to look after your children all the time," Williams wrote, "as well as working full-time but for some socially useful enterprise (ideally voluntary work), while never relying on a man for money, yet never claiming benefits either."

So why do people debate this? Because people have this inherent need to feel validated, even when it's difficult to validate themselves. What we should do, instead of debating who has it worse, and trying to "one up" another person, is spend our energy validating each other as mothers, even when our choices differ. Motherhood is hard enough without all the competition and judgment. I'll never look down on another woman's choices, because my daughters will one day have to make these same decisions, and I want them to know that, no matter what, I support them, and I validate them in what they chose to do. Because whether or not we stay at home with our families, or work outside the home, motherhood is the toughest job a person can have.




Monday, April 28, 2014

First Pregnancy vs. Second Pregnancy

Guess what guys? I'm pregnant!

I feel like I'm a little late to the party, since I'm the fourth in line to deliver of the currently pregnant Lovely authors. (Amanda is seriously about to deliver any day!)

Pregnancy is weird, but it's a totally different weirdness the second time around, and some of the weirdness is just due to the fact that you've done it all before, and it's just not that weird any more. Here are some examples of the way my first pregnancy and my second are differing so far.

  • First: Rushed out to buy a pregnancy test the SECOND I thought it was possible I was "late."
    Second: After a few false alarms due to postpartum breastfeeding confusion, I waited for over a week after I was pretty sure to go and buy the test. I was still really excited, but those things are like $7 apiece and I didn't want to waste any more money on them until I was pretty sure it was for real!
  • First: Immediately pulled up that scene from I Love Lucy where Ricky sings "We're Having a Baby, My Baby and Me" and then finds out he's the one whose wife is trying to tell him she's pregnant and I BAWLED.
    Second: Did a little jumping up and down, but was in the middle of dealing with giving my daughter antibiotics for a staph infection and getting ready to move in two days, so there just wasn't a lot of time to sit around and bask in the glow of pregnancy. 
  • First: So. Much. Vomit. For like 19 weeks. (Okay, this probably isn't everyone's experience. Sorry.)
    Second: Less vomit. Lots of general yuckiness. Later onset of symptoms. Lots of predictions that I'm having a boy this time since my symptoms are different. (Also, stomach flu, which made up for the less vomit over the course of a couple of days. Ugh.) 
  • First: Took my prenatal vitamins for MONTHS before and religiously every day during my pregnancy. Checked all of the lists of things to avoid and was terrified of hot tubs, cold cuts, tuna, and about 25 other things that were on various lists.
    Second: Tried really hard to remember to take my vitamins. Remembered most days. Wondered what on earth I was so freaked out about last time. Why was I even looking at those lists? But did make sure that if I ate sushi, it was cooked. 
  • First: Immediately started researching cribs, mattresses, strollers, car seats, nursery ideas, quilt patterns, and childrearing methods. Read ALL THE BOOKS and the blogs and the pregnancy calendars and so on and so forth.
    Second: Well, I've already got the crib and the carseat . . . I suppose if it had been a boy he'd need some clothes, but since we just found out it's another girl, she can wear hand me downs for awhile . . . and as for the nursery, I'm mostly concerned about how we'll fit two beds in the kids' room of our two bedroom apartment. I can worry about decorations a little later on, like when she is ready to move in with big sister a few months after she is born. (Probably before that when nesting goes into full swing - but I'm not obsessively pinning things this time.) 
  • First: Really, really want that nicely defined baby bump to show up quickly so people wouldn't just think I was getting chubby.
    Second: Remembering how miserable carrying that baby bump was toward the end, I am in no hurry for it to pop out. There was no greater relief than being able to bend over to pick something up without wanting to die, once baby number one was born. (Also, has anyone else noticed that something about having kids makes you less concerned about your own appearance? I mean, I care, but I have gone out with spit up on my shoulder because I was too busy checking the diaper bag to check the mirror more times than I can say . . .) 
  • First: Really concerned about getting stretch marks. Listened very careful to all tips about how to avoid them. Thought I had avoided them only to have them pop out in the home stretch.
    Second: Hahahahahahahaha. (Seriously though. Stretch marks are not that big of a deal. Especially if you, like me, have no desire to wear a bikini, but also just generally. Meh. They look scary when they pop put, but mine faded quite a lot and they just don't bother me.
  • First: Broke out the maternity clothes WAY too early. 
  • Second: Holding off on the maternity clothes as long as humanly possible, because I remember how freaking tired of them I was by the time I delivered that baby. 
What do you think? Any of this sounding familiar to any of you? Any tips for the second baby coming up? 

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

How I Learned to Make Dolls (Plus an Unsolicited Plug for Wee Wonderfuls)

For my daughter's first Christmas, I really wanted to make her a doll. I'm not sure why this desire was so strong (although it was probably partly because we were kind of poor and partly because my friend Becky had just posted some doll hair tutorials and some really beautiful dolls that she'd made, and I wanted to be as cool as she is).

The problem was I couldn't really sew. All the tutorials you can find require some kind of knowledge of special stitches and junk like that, and I just couldn't quite figure out what they were talking about. I finally settled on a tutorial for a Black Apple doll for that first attempt. She was cute, but if you looked closely, she was barely holding together. The seams were shabby, the limbs were sewn on badly, I didn't know how to do a ladder stitch so I couldn't make the stitches invisible, etc. I made her a scarf to cover up the mistakes I made sewing her head on. Luckily, CB was only 5 months old and not very discerning.


Despite my only sort of successful attempt, I really enjoyed the process of turning unloved fabric scraps into something cute and lovable. I really wanted to learn to do it well, and I wanted to learn in time for the day when my daughter would have opinions about how they should look. A few months later, after reading lots of reviews and doing lots of searching around for something that I thought would be easy enough for my skill level without being boring,  I ordered Wee Wonderfuls: 24 Dolls to Sew and Love because it had some tutorials on how to do the actual stitches and had lots of different patterns so I could learn some different skills and hopefully start customizing a little someday.

Over the next few months I pulled out scraps here and there and put together a few toys that CB really loves.


 I had to make this bear by hand because I was afraid of trying to sew this fuzzy stuff in my sewing machine. He was made from the leftovers from the less-successful crib covers that I made for my daughter's crib so she wouldn't chew on it. (She still does, but she likes this bear, and the covers make it less evident that the crib looks like a beaver got to it.) He was much cuter when he was new than he is now. She chewed off his nose as well.


Kitty's face took a couple of attempts and her tiny dress was a struggle, but she is well-loved now, despite her terrible seams. I have re-attached her head and legs once, and the head is starting to look a bit loose again. 


These sleepover pals have crazy wide-set eyes, but they get hauled all over the place. CB gives them to her bigger dolls so they can have babies. 

So after I'd made a few of these projects, I really wanted something I could customize a bit more. I downloaded another pattern (again from Wee Wonderfuls because I'd had good luck with her patterns in the book and had been drooling over her amazing doll hair for more than a year) and made a doll to match CB's Easter dress using the scraps. 

A side note: sewing round things (like heads) is hard. Now that I've done three of these dolls it's a little less intimidating, but good heavens it was scary the first time. 


The tricky part about making a doll for a toddler is that they know before you even make it into an actual doll what the parts are going to be, and then they steal the doll before you are finished. I've given up on hiding this baby until Easter. 


Doing the doll hair is fast becoming my favorite part of this process. It's lots of painstaking pinning and stitching (which took some time to figure out, especially the first time around - eventually I kind of sewed out from the center like spokes of a wheel to do the back of the head) but I love the results and the process of making it come together.




I used this brief tutorial and many others I'd been reading on this website and others to get this hair style.  I was going for this look. 


Faces are still a work in progress for me. I didn't like how the ones on the pattern were turning out for me, so I did my own. I want to play with the look a little more, but my limited embroidery skills make trying out anything fancy on a finished doll when a mistake could ruin the whole thing pretty terrifying. 


After finishing CB's doll, I made these big sister/little sister dolls for a friend who has a 5 year old and is expecting another little girl. Keeping them away from CB was extra tricky. 

Little sister's hair came from this tutorial, big sister's from this picture, because by then I had kind of figured out how to make it work. My doll's hair turned out totally different because the yarn was a different texture, but I think I ultimately decided I like it. 


I never could decide whether or not these ladies needed noses, so in the end I left them off. 

CB is now in the throes of major stuffed animal love, and she ADORES these babies and animals, especially the latest one. She makes them dance and hauls them all over the house, and I love the feeling of knowing I made her something that she enjoys - especially because I made pretty much all of them out of leftover scraps from various projects my mom and I have worked on over the years. I like using little bits of old projects to make something new. 


Mostly though, I love that I can still learn new things. Three plus years out of college, sometimes it feels like I am stagnating, even though I know I'm learning a lot about taking care of children, and I still read and learn things every day. It's nice to feel like I can pick up a new skill just because I decide to do it, and I can create something that makes me and at least one tiny person happy, and I can make actual, visible progress at something. 

What new things are you learning to do? (And if you decide to learn to make dolls and want to talk about it, shoot me a comment or an email!) 

Monday, April 21, 2014

Because I Can.

Five years ago, the movie The Wizard of Oz celebrated its 70th year of its existence. That year they re-released a special version in theaters for one night and my grad school roommates (including our Lovely Author Meg) and I spent a magical evening with Dorothy and her crew.

A few nights ago my husband and I were watching TV when a commercial touting The Wizard of Oz's 75th anniversary came on. It triggered memories of that 70th anniversary and I filled Sam in on what a fabulous experience it was. As we chatted about what a great experience it was for a few minutes, a thought popped into my head. "Why exactly did I decide to go in the first place, though?" The answer, luckily, popped into my head almost instantly:

Because I could.

I do not have the luxury in my life to do any little passing whim or fancy that enters my head. I do, however, have the luxury of acting on quite a few of them. Why?

Because I can.

Last week I took my eight-month old son to the National Gallery of Art and spent almost the entire time sitting on a couch in one room with him. Why? Because I could.


One night in college, my roommates and I ate dinner while sitting on the floor around our coffee table, in an attempt to recreate a scene from the movie Sabrina. Why? Because we could.

From the ages of 2-3, I have been told that I used to eat finger-fulls of straight butter. Why? This one I don't actually remember too well myself, but I am assuming it was because I was two and I could get away with things like that. In other words, because I could.

I made my own wedding bouquet. Why? Because I could.


For about 3/4 of my life I slept with my head at the foot of my bed (I only stopped when I got married and things would have gotten weird snuggling with my husband's feet). Why? Because I could.

When my sisters and I were younger, we insisted on sleeping outside on our trampoline at least once a week in the summers, even though we would all inevitably roll to the middle and sleep on top of each other and our dad notoriously "forgot" to turn the sprinklers off (set on a timer for some unholy hour of the morning) every single time. Why? Because we could.

This past presidential election, I voted. Why? Because I could.


In grad school I used to time myself running down the stairs from my office on the 7th floor of the library down to the ground floor. Why? Because I could.

The night that my son was born, I refused to put him down for more than seven hours after I finally got to hold him. Why? Because I could.


There is so much in life that we simply cannot do. There isn't enough money, enough time, enough space, enough skill, enough energy, enough anything to do the things that we want. But rather than dwell on the things we can't do, why can we not remember the things we do get to do- the things we get to do just because we can!

Friday, April 18, 2014

So You're Cooking Dinner For Your Mother-In-Law: Dos and Don'ts and Recipe Ideas

The other day I was talking to my friend who is living with her in-laws for a few weeks while she waits for her apartment to be renovated. I asked her how it was going and she said she had been working hard to cook for them every night but could tell that her mother-in-law didn't like anything she made.

That's something I think everyone can relate to. It's a high pressure situation, cooking for someone who spent 18 years making homemade bread for their precious son to whom you are now feeding frozen pizzas. Last time I cooked for my mother-in-law she told me she liked how "simple" all my meals were. I think that was probably the nicest thing she could find to say about my cooking.

So I came up with a fabulous idea to collect recipes that are sure to impress someone that's a much better cook than you are, but are secretly very easy to make. I've also included a few dos and don'ts for cooking for your mother-in-law to help the process go a little smoother.


Depending on who you're cooking for and how many pounds of red meat they're used to consuming daily you could switch it up and add less tortellini and throw some sausage in there instead. Hide your crockpot and pretend you slaved all day over this delicious soup. Leave your pasta maker on the counter for her to see and silently wonder if you made your own tortellinis.

Don't:
Don't go vegetarian. This is of course subjective to the particular party but in my general experience, in-laws, especially fathers-in-law, don't appreciate going from red meat to tofu wraps and a side of kale chips.



Another recipe to hide your crockpot for.  The turkey comes out so juicy, tender, and flavorful, your mother-in-law will think you started a marinade the night before. Go ahead and let her think it.

Do:
Do keep calm and collected like the Barefoot Contessa at all times. You don't want your mother in law hearing you curse from the kitchen while you try to whisk egg whites.


Italian Chicken, Potatoes, and Green Beans

This one can be tricky.  If your mother-in-law is an avid pinterest-er she may have seen this recipe floating around and your cover will be blown. Spend the hour that this dish bakes in the kitchen clanging around pots and pans and shouting stuff like, "Just de-boning this free range, organic chicken!" and "Tenderizing meat is hard work!" The end result will taste so good, she'll believe everything you were saying in there.

This one doesn't have a link but is really not much of a recipe, just throw 4 raw chicken breasts, raw cubed red potatoes and green beans in a 9x13 dish. Sprinkle with a packet of Italian Seasoning and top with a melted stick of butter. Cover with foil and bake at 350 for one hour.

Don't:
Don't serve ethnic food. Maybe some mothers-in-law out there love ethnic food but, in my experience, their generation didn't cook a lot of ethnic food. Plus, there's nothing more humiliating than watching your mother-in-law sweat over a spicy tikka masala that you probably shouldn't have served but she's too polite not to finish.


It's nice to go with a classic staple meal that has a bit of a twist that makes it not so ordinary. You can say lofty, superior things like, "We don't make spaghetti for our kids. Everyone eats spaghetti. We eat bowtie lasagna."

Do:
Do pull your husband into the bathroom before dinner and threaten him into lavishly complimenting your cooking during the entire meal. If necessary, make him a list of acceptable compliments to read out every five minutes. Example: "Wow, I didn't know my wife could be talented at everything but I guess she is!"


This would go well with any of the meals listed above and is one step above garlic bread so you can't be faulted with preparing boring side dishes. Also it's smothered in cheese so you really can't go wrong. Everyone loves cheese.

Do:
Do remember to prepare side dishes and a dessert. This way your mother-in-law might be fooled into thinking this is something you regularly do for your family. Instruct children not to question the presence of extra dishes and pretend you roast asparagus as a side dish for them every night.



This is my favorite cake recipe because it's just a cake mix from the store with a few extra things thrown in but it tastes so good. Bury the cake mix box deep in the garbage and no will ever know the difference.

Don't:
Don't try out a recipe for the first time when cooking for your mother-in-law. Last time I tried this, my dessert exploded in her oven.