Working Mother’s Guilt

The hardest part of my job is spending time away from my family. Right now my husband and daughter are in New York and I am in Orlando. They need to be there because Charlotte has a month more of school and my husband has work. I have to continue to host iVillage Live, so we are spending the weekends together and the work weeks apart. It is like physical pain to be away from my family. That sounds so dramatic but it is really how I feel.

My daughter, on the other hand, seems to take my absences in stride. The phone calls are brutal. I hang on her every word and she says things like, “I can’t talk now, I am eating my peanut butter sandwich” or “Can you call back after Clifford is over?” I remind myself that this is a good sign. She is obviously fine with my husband and coping with our time apart. It is hard not to steer the conversation the wrong way; “Do you miss Mommy? Are you feeling teary??” The term “Leading the witness” comes to mind.

Truthfully, I am the one feeling teary. Part of it is my fear that the pursuit of my career will cause her some irreparable harm. My own mother was home with us every day and that haunts me when I miss a function at the school. My wise husband reminds me that it is good for her to see me working and that I will be a role model for her, not only as a loving Mom, but also as a woman with a career she loves. His words help, but I know my broken heart won’t feel whole until my family is living together again.

The Slacker Mom

The big divide amongst moms used to be working moms vs. stay at home moms, but now it’s Alphas vs. Slackers. In case you have been under a rock somewhere and haven’t heard these latest definitions, here goes. Alphas are the moms that do it all. They run the PTA, plan bake sales, organize the phone tree when something big happens and manage all the major school fundraisers. The slackers avoid the job of class mom like the plague, forget school events like Halloween costume day, and usually like to join the PTA but never attend a meeting.

If the slacker description sounds personal, it is. I did once forget it was Halloween-dress-up-day and had to run home to find my daughter a last minute costume. As a slacker mom I have one major issue… the name. I think “Beta mom” is much better because it implies a different choice, not a wrong choice. Speaking on behalf of slacker moms everywhere, I don’t participate because I want to spend my free time with my kids. I know my daughter’s teacher very well, I try to do some kind of project with the kids in her class, I bring snacks, donate money, but I honestly feel that all my extra time has to be spent with my family and that includes my husband.

Sometimes maintaining the role of slacker is hard for me. Walking through my daughter’s pre-school felt like a trip back to high school. What are all the cool mom’s doing? Who will run for class president? Who will get picked for honor society? Who will get the lead in the school play? At this point in my inner dialogue I usually say, “SNAP OUT OF IT”. Seriously, I did all that in high school and at this point I just don’t care.

My job is often my excuse, but a lot of Alpha mom’s have full-time jobs. They work all day then run the PTA at night. I truly don’t know how they do it. When do they have time to play cards with their kids, read the paper, have sex with their hubby or watch “American Idol”? They are probably just a lot more organized than I am.

The musical Oklahoma has a song that says, “Oh the farmer and the cowman should be friends” and maybe that applies to Alphas and Slackers. When you think about it, we need each other. Leaders need followers and some of us need someone to tell us where to bring the cupcakes and when to dress up our kids for Halloween.

Connections

I am on a plane with my family heading to New York City to spend a week seeing friends and my stepsons. We loved living in Manhattan and we all felt the need for a city fix. My daughter wants some Matzo Ball soup and my husband and I can’t wait to order in Chinese, Thai and sushi. I don’t intend to cook anything all week. Getting organized to travel is always hectic and as usual we brought way too much stuff.

We have already had a busy weekend; Charlotte had her first ballet recital this morning. I have worked on Broadway, sung in front of thousands of people and I think I was the most nervous I have ever been. The power our children have over us is truly extraordinary. After a false start, my daughter and her fellow swans spun, pointed, and curtsied their way through the dance. My husband and I held hands and loved every minute of it.

Moments like these remind me how our children connect us. My oldest stepson is graduating from high school next month and on these huge occasions my heart breaks for the children of divorce. There has to be some part of my husband and his ex-wife that wants to hold hands and acknowledge that together they created this amazing person and that they still have their intense love for him in common. Honestly, I am guessing they won’t hold hands, but hopefully they will take a moment to reflect on what a special day it is and what a wonderful job they have done.

We are about to land and the flight attendant’s eyes just sent me daggers because I still have my computer out. I see the lights of New York in the distance and I smile inside knowing I am coming home.

Kindergarten Supermodel

I was sitting in the park today and I overheard some women chatting. Alright, I was listening to their conversation, but what else can one do when you are alone in the park watching your child play? Anyway I digress, I “overheard” a woman say to her three-year-old daughter, “You look just like a model.” It is so easy to say these sorts of things to our children and I am sure she meant it as a compliment, but it got me thinking about how we talk to our girls. As a society, we are very critical of the rail-thin models that dominate the magazines and advertisements in this country, but without thinking, we are often quick to use them as examples of beauty.

I often wonder about the whole princess/dress-up thing with little girls. (Let me say I am completely guilty of this one.) My daughter has at least 20 costumes, complete with crowns and sparkly shoes. She dresses up all the time and we ‘oohh’ and ‘aahh’ about how beautiful she looks, but is that good parenting?? My husband and I have talked about this brains vs. beauty issue since she was very young. We remind each other to try and praise her for being smart and brave and kind to people, but it is unbelievable how often our first instinct is to say, “Oh Charlotte, you are so cute.”

One of my good friends in New York had a nanny that often kept my daughter during play dates. She was honest and reliable and the kids loved her. Perfect, right? Well sort of. I found out later, ok I was listening in again, that her favorite topic of conversation was which boys our 4-year-old girls liked. Every male child on the playground was greeted with, “Is this your boyfriend???” Giggle giggle. I hated it. We women spend most of our time on Earth worried about what the “boys” in our lives think and it would be nice if we didn’t have to start as preschoolers.

When I read reports on how many young women struggle with anorexia, or how our daughters are having sex earlier and earlier, or how many girls dream of plastic surgery to look more like this or that supermodel, I wonder. Do we subconsciously help seed these obsessions? Is every princess and model comparison just setting them up to someday feel inadequate? I don’t know, but tonight when my daughter reads a book to me at bedtime, I am going to tell her how smart she is and try not to mention how adorable she looks in her “Sleeping Beauty” nightgown.

Waxing Philosophical

So, I am sitting getting a pedicure and I know I should appreciated the fact that someone else is painting my toenails, but all I can think is that I need to get out of here. Sometimes being a woman is a real pain in the neck. I would love to get back all the time I have spent having every hair on my body either cut, plucked, waxed or colored. Seriously, don’t you feel like there is tremendous pressure on us to look good all the time? Some of it is very painful too! Getting your eyebrows plucked really hurts, and whenever I see a man with a uni-brow I think, “He really doesn’t care. In fact, he thinks he looks good!” You can be sure that one of the reasons men wear swimsuits that are like shorts is because they would never, ever endure the agony of a bikini wax.

Sometimes I can hardly remember my life before kids and I wonder if I enjoyed all the pampering stuff more back then. I used to sit at the hair salon reading a magazine without a care in the world. Perhaps as Moms we have so little free time that we try to jam everything into those moments away from our kids. It’s a multi-tasking marathon:
Driving while eating a sandwich and putting on mascara, Cleaning the bathroom while talking on the phone, E-mailing and coloring your hair and, of course my favorite, blogging while getting a pedicure.

Perhaps next New Years I will make a resolution to relax more and enjoy the moments of pampering, but until then I will just bitch about not having enough time and, oh yeah, about how much a bikini wax kills.

Tats all folks!

We spent the day at Typhoon Lagoon at Disney. We bought year passes to all the different amusements and I am not sure if it is a blessing or a curse. Because of how much they cost I feel like if I don’t go to some park at Disney World every weekend I am wasting money. It is like we are forced to go to the happiest place on earth. From now on, whenever I see professional athletes say they are going to Disney World after they win some fabulous event I will feel sorry for them. Now don’t get me wrong, my daughter absolutely loves it and my husband and I get huge pleasure watching her eyes light up at each new adventure. Today, however, was an interesting experience because it is one thing to walk around a park with thousands of people in shorts and t-shirts where the biggest fashion faux pas is the “I’m with stupid” t-shirt and sandals with socks; it is another to swim with them.

Here is my question; “When did everyone get tattoos?” Seriously, I have never seen so many half-naked people with so many tattoos. Most people seemed to really want to show them off. We saw more women than we could count in string bikinis placed strategically to show off their rose, Chinese letters or ank. And don’t count out the men, because who cares if you have a gut the size of my ninth month of pregnancy when you’re sporting a giant tat across the center of your chest. For some reason it seems that many people think their tattoo is so beautiful that it transforms even the scariest of figures.

Maybe they see their bodies not as I see mine, an inventory of problem areas that I must conceal with strategically placed sarongs, but as “Art” that they feel should be displayed and admired. As a person who has never even had even a passing interest in getting a tattoo or piercing, my mind starts to wander to a place where I strut confidently in my thong believing that instead of seeing my cellulite, people will admire my tattoo. Somehow I don’t think that even all of Sandra Bullock’s husband Jesse James’ tattoos could make that happen.

My friend Ceci calls any event where lots of people are gathered a meeting of the “great unwashed”. I thought a water park would be exempt, after all there is something clean and refreshing about a day spent in the sun and water. Maybe not!

Clean freak

Along with iVillage Live, I host a show called Clean This House that is on A&E every Saturday at 5PM eastern time….sooooo I thought I would talk a little about my love of cleaning and organizing. I moved to New York City when I was 23 years old and grew accustomed to living in very small spaces. My friends in Florida always look at me in shock when I say that all my Christmas decorations fit into a large square hat box. The wonderful thing about living in small apartments is that it forces you not to become too attached to “stuff”. This frightens my husband to no end because he lives in fear that I will throw away some beloved rowing souvenir or ancient newspaper that he is saving to read when he has some extra time. This is obviously a source of contention between us because I like things neat and tidy. Most evenings he checks the garbage just to make sure nothing sacred has been tossed.

Interestingly, my 5 year old started doing the same thing when she was 3. She would find some drawings of hers in the trash and question me sharply about why I wasn’t saving it. Now please don’t think I am some evil mother who doesn’t cherish her child’s artwork, I do … to a certain extent. It is just that if I saved everything, pretty soon we would have to move to a larger place. I try to keep one picture representative of what she is doing through each phase. Explaining this to a small child is a little difficult. Let’s just say I started cleaning both her and my husband’s stuff when they weren’t home.

I like my desk and work spaces to be completely clear save for a few framed photos and carefully placed knick knacks. My husband, on the other hand, likes to see everything he is working on…. And I mean EVERYTHING. His desk is a cluttered mess of bits of paper, saved paper clips he is going to re-bend into the right shape, and old faxes that he wants to use as scratch paper. My bills are neatly stacked in a little basket waiting to be paid and filed. My husband’s are placed strategically around the desk so he can remember to pay them… well, that is until they are covered up by some of the “scratch sheets”. Do you note a tone of sarcasm as I write this???? In my husband’s defense, my own Mother says she would rather live with Michael than me. She said this after I re-aligned some books in my living room to “just the right angle” after she had kindly dusted for me.

On Clean This House, I show families how to get organized by getting rid of the things they don’t need and cleaning up the things they want to keep. My favorite moments are digging into rooms that are completely filthy and bringing some kind of order to the chaos. We make big stacks of things to throw away, things to donate and things to keep and organize. Once everything is out of the room, we deep clean then put everything back in an orderly fashion. Most of the families let things get out of hand and then they got overwhelmed. I am always amazed that many of the people have all the shelves, crates and baskets they need to get organized, they just don’t know how to use them.

The families are all incredibly grateful and so pleased with my help. Sadly my own family just thinks I am a clean freak. They are probably right but at least I am using my own psychosis to help others.

Playdates and tough questions

My daughter wanted to have a playdate with one of the girls in her class so I called her Mother and, in the process, I learned a great lesson. She said, “I don’t want to offend you, but I have several questions for you before my daughter can come to your house.” Needless to say I was intrigued. I said ask away…
1. Do you keep a gun in your house? No.
2. Do you have any dogs? Yes, but a small dachshund.
3. Does your dog bite? No.
4. Do you have a pool or water? Yes.
5. Are you or another adult going to supervise the children at all times around the water? Yes.

I loved it!! I thought they were great questions and I was thrilled that I could ask the woman the same questions before Charlotte visits her house. I thought she was strong and powerful like a Mother bear protecting her cubs and I vowed to try to emulate her before setting up our next playdate.

I feel like I am a coward. Instead of asking tough questions, I just never let Charlotte go to other kid’s houses when I don’t know the parents. Questions wouldn’t be polite. My instinct is to slink away and not face up to what I truly want to know. Sadly, my new heroine said that some parents get furious when she asks her questions, telling her it is none of her business and to forget the playdate.

It makes me wonder. Would there be fewer problems in the world if everyone would just ask the tough questions right away?
1. Do you love me?
2. Did you sleep with her/him?
3. Were there really any weapons of mass destruction?
4. Are you pro-choice or pro-life?
5. Coke or Pepsi?
6. Paper or Plastic?

A Death in the Family

A death in the family is a sad time for everyone, especially the youngest members, and so it was for us when we found our goldfish belly up this morning. I remember that one of the reasons we got the goldfish was because a family therapist told me that fish were an excellent way for kids to learn about death. He said the stakes weren’t as high with fish because people don’t get attached to them like a dog or cat. Someone forgot to tell my five-year-old this as she sobbed piteously in my arms. As I searched for the right words to say to comfort my baby girl, who was facing death and all its ramifications for the first time, I heard her small voice. I listened fearing some question about whether fish go to heaven, but instead it was “Can I get a new fish?” Suddenly I felt like I was holding Damian instead of my daughter but I agreed that, yes, we could get a new fish.

Now, as you know from reading this Blog, I am never completely certain as a parent. Should I make her wait a while before she gets a new fish? Should I help her go though Kubler-Ross’s 7 stages of dying?? Did she need anger, denial, acceptance, etc. to truly learn from this experience?

I don’t know if a new fish was the right response, but I vividly remember being about six when my pet rabbit was viciously killed by our own dogs. I recall asking my mother over and over, “Why would they do it? I loved that rabbit.” It was a big fat white rabbit and I remember my Dad arriving home from work. He called me over to the car where he had the cutest, most adorable baby rabbit. Let’s just say I screamed with joy and never looked back.

We had the funeral in the yard and put the fish in a small box that used to hold 1-inch nails. The only problem that arose was when I went to write “Cutie Pie” on the outside of the box. My daughter indignantly informed me that the fish was named Pearl. This was the first I’d heard of this name. The fish had been Cutie Pie for as long as I could remember. I felt bad letting this creature go to the here-after with the wrong name, but I was not going to get into a fight with my grieving daughter.

We spent about an hour at the pet store checking out pretty much every goldfish they had in stock. She finally settled on a fairly ugly white one with an orange head. Personally I like my goldfish orange, but it was her choice. As we were walking out of the store I asked her about a name. She said the new fish’s name was … wait for it… “Pearl.” According to Charlotte, her white color was perfect for such a beautiful name. She said she missed Cutie Pie but was so happy to have Pearl. I still feel bad about the name on the box.

Mother’s Day…. NOT

I know there are going to be groans and shocked silences, but I am going to admit something to you all. Call me Scrooge, but I think Mother’s Day is a Greeting Card Holiday. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy any holiday where I get a box of candy, but I believe Mother’s Day is really about the card companies’ need to get us back into the stores after Valentine’s Day. It is a brilliant ploy because everyone either loves their Mother or feels tremendous guilt for not loving their Mother…. so….. we all buy cards.

A great friend of mine was talking about getting a cell phone for her birthday. She said she got her best presents, like a nice piece of jewelry, from her husband not on her birthday, but on Mother’s Day! This struck me as odd. Should Mother’s Day define us? Isn’t your birthday a celebration of YOU…and Mother’s Day a celebration of well…. Motherhood? Perhaps my cynicism has been ingrained in me from childhood as I vividly remember my Dad saying, “Why should I get your Mom a present? She isn’t my Mother.”

When I think of my daughter, this quote from Pat Conroy’s book “Beach Music” always runs through my head. “She is my certification, my boarding pass into the family of man and the greatest faith in the future I still retain.” I memorized this line long before I had a baby or experienced the overwhelming love I feel for my children, but even then I was convinced that this must be what it feels like to look at your own immortality in the eyes of your child. Like so many women, being a Mom is the most important, most rewarding, most interesting thing I have ever done, so I really don’t need a holiday, but I will take some candy.

Lies we were told in the 80’s

When I told my doctor that I had gotten pregnant by accident without fertility at 38, she said and I quote, “It was a miracle.” It struck me as crazy because I remember sitting in my gynecologist’s office in the late 80’s saying that I was sure I wanted to have a baby but I wasn’t in any hurry. I wanted to pursue my career and have some fun before I started thinking about a family. She told me to relax. Doctors were doing so much with fertility that she was certain that by the time I was ready to have kids, women would have them well into their 40’s without any trouble. Sadly, what our doctors didn’t know at the time was the limited number of eggs we had. Yes, our bodies could carry babies to term, but our actual fertility was the problem. Many of my friends remember having this same conversation with their doctors. Several of them are now in the midst of major fertility work. Their worlds are centered around invitro, donor eggs, clomid and needles.

I have always considered myself a feminist. I truly feel it is my body and I have the right to choose what I do with it. I believe women should get equal pay for equal work and I think our careers are as important as any man’s. I love making my own money and being an equal partner with my husband financially. But I also believe that women need to know the truth about fertility and the sad truth is we have a window to EASILY have kids, and that is before 35. What really sucks is that 35 is also the age where your career really starts taking off.

I think it really is a man’s world because it often feels like for women, every day has to be some kind of compromise. If we get pregnant, then we are stopping our career to focus on family. If your child is sick and you stay home, you are obviously not committed to your career. I have to believe if men had babies too, the system would be easier. The only way this will change is when corporate America makes it possible for women to have it all…. career and family.

I knew a woman who was on the fast track at one of the top brokerage firms in New York. Her son was four and started having behavioral problems in pre-school. A therapist told her and her husband that one of them needed to stay home with their son. She made the most money and was on the way to a partnership but she knew she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t spend the time with her son. I totally supported her decision and would have done the same thing. A few years later, when her son was happy and doing great in school, she tried to reconnect with the company that thought so highly of her. Unfortunately, she found that her success had passed her by. Was she fulfilled by the time spent with her son? Absolutely. But why couldn’t she have both?

“I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan… and never, never, never let him forget he’s a man. ‘Cause I’m a woman”. Wasn’t this a hit in the 80’s?