Stuff It

Tags

confidence, purpose, rant, voice

Warning: This is a rant.  Against Thanksgiving.  If you love this holiday beyond reason, you may not want to read this entry.  

I realize that Thanksgiving is considered one of those truly American, family-centered holidays.  This is, no doubt due to the Pilgrim story with a dash of Norman Rockwell.  And perhaps for some, it still fulfills that purpose.  But for me — well, I can’t stand this holiday or at least what this holiday now seems to stand for.  Here’s why.

First, I’d like to be able to say that my antipathy for Thanksgiving is because of a carefully reasoned political analysis of what whites have done to Native Americans — that the tale of the first Thanksgiving is just a myth to make many of us feel better or just ignore the betrayal and exploitation of indigenous people.  But I’d be lying to claim that as the reason for my intense dislike of the day (though I do agree with this perspective and suggest this site as a place to start: http://www.uaine.org/).

In no particular order – here’s why this holiday bugs the sh*t out of me:

• The food is, for the most part, bland and beige.  Has anyone really had a turkey that actually tastes yummy?  The lengths that folks go to make that impossible goal happen are absurd — brining, seasoning, smoking, basting, etc., and if you still screw up you can call a 24 hour help hotline.  Really — this is a good use of resources?  The only color comes either from that nasty green bean dish with fake onions or cranberries in a can (though I’ll admit, I love the sound of that jellied cylinder coming out of the can).
• A second food point — I’m amazed at the number of food disasters I have witnessed as folks attempt to get a complete meal on the table.  These include a thoroughly burnt turkey (totally black), a boiled in a bag turkey (a soggy mess — though moist), and a turkey that was put in the oven frozen (let’s call that the salmonella bird).  Dishes are never ready all at the same time, so some get set aside and served luke warm to cold (when they should be hot), or you eat in shifts (sure, I’ll start with some brussel sprouts and wait 2 hours for the dinner rolls).  And then, some guest has to bring his or her favorite side dish, which requires an elaborate preparation your kitchen, and doesn’t fit into the overall menu (and tastes like cardboard).
• Yet the food debacles notwithstanding, this holiday seems to stand for gluttony.  Pants and belts undone, people groaning on the couch.  Am I the only one who finds this repulsive?  Do people really need to sample all the pies by creating one big pie with 8 different slices on a dinner plate?
• And the gendered roles come into full display.  Men disappear into the TV room to watch football games and eat pre-dinner noshes.  And as an aside – the football games feature either the Cowboys (which I hate) and/or the Lions (which til this year just sucked).  But no matter, the guys are in their cave getting their feedbags on.  On the other hand, the women are in the kitchen and dining rooms trying to make a ridiculous meal come to life.  There’s tables to set, chafing dishes to dig out of the attic, potatoes to mash into oblivion.  Once the meal is finally on the table, the head male gets to carve the turkey (and often acts as if he personally shot, cleaned and cooked it).  Once the food has been annihilated, clean up beings.  And guess who gets to do that?  Guess who heads back to the cave until the multi-flavor pie plates get created?  This makes me crazy (and I don’t want to hear about those men who are modern enough to help in the kitchen — this is my rant).
• The stress is often off the charts.  Food prep stress.  People getting along stress.  Travel stress.  ”This needs to be perfect” uber-stress.  Is it worth it to drive oneself so crazy?
• I also have some bad personal associations with Thanksgiving.  My marriage imploded over Thanksgiving.  The last time I saw my maternal grandfather was over Thanksgiving.  Some of the worst fights I had with my dad was over Thanksgiving.  Why didn’t Arbor Day get wrecked instead?
• Crass commercialism has completely taken over.  Supposedly, this is the start of the Christmas shopping season, though in actuality, that started around Labor Day.  I hate this — I really really hate this.  I hate all the ads.  I hate the crazy Friday when everyone has to go to the malls.  I hate that we can’t slow down and just focus on one holiday at a time.  If I could change one thing, this would be it.  Absolutely no Christmas anything until after Thanksgiving.

Now, in case anyone is worried, I have had some good Thanksgivings, and wouldn’t necessarily turn down an invitation in the future (though these probably won’t be forthcoming any time soon).  But for the most part, it is just too stressful, awkward and unfulfilling.  Yes, I know that there are many folks who love the holiday and all it means (and good for them).  But I’m not one of them.

What I’ve realized over the years, is that it is essential that I stay in touch with what works, and what doesn’t, for me.  For the most part, Thanksgiving doesn’t work.  Being grateful for all that I have is important and I try to do that, at least in some small way, each day.

It is also why the “holiday” that I truly celebrate (complete with family, friends, and lots of food) is “Gotcha Day.”  On March 14th, I mark the day that the adoption of my daughter became official.  It is the day we honor becoming a family, and I have never been more thankful for anything or anyone in my life.

Singular Paradox

Tags

children, confidence, parenting, purpose

“How do you do it?” “You must be exhausted!” “I could never manage.” “Don’t you just go crazy, sometimes?”

I must hear these statements, or variations, at least once a week.  And the answers are – “one step at a time,” “yup,” “you’d be surprised what you can do,” and “pretty much all the time.”

The topic – being a single mother.  And the queries and comments usually come from parents, mostly moms, who are part of a couple.  They understand the stream of demands, the late nights, the meltdowns, and the need to be almost constantly vigilant.  And, they appreciate the victories, the milestones, the moments that make everything else worthwhile.  But they have difficulty imagining what it would be like to do this alone.

Disclaimer #1: I’m not doing this alone.  I have the ability (really, a privilege) to send my daughter to a terrific pre-school, where she is loved and nurtured and kept safe. This takes a huge weight off of me.  I can focus my work days on work (well, usually, but that’s my choice).  And, as I’ve blogged about previously, I live in a wonderful neighborhood in which there are bunches of kids and involved parents.  My daughter has playmates and I can get some back-up.

Disclaimer #2: There are moments, especially in the middle of the night or during one of my daughter’s colossal fits, when I do think I’m am totally in over my head. That this is an impossible undertaking.  Much to my surprise, though, this thought happens less frequently than I had anticipated.  I also know that these moments will pass.  Being able to decompress after the fact helps.  A lot.

Disclaimer #3: I live in Philadelphia, which has an amazing range of child-oriented activities.  A fantastic zoo, children’s museum, art museum, arboretum, science museum, and park system mean that my daughter and I can do any number of activities.  Having these options makes a huge difference.

But probably the biggest factor in my ability to embrace and survive being a single mother is that I’m comfortable being single.  A few flings aside, I was seriously single for 10 years before adopting my daughter.  During that time, I learned a lot about myself and cultivated skills and perspectives that greatly aid me in my current role.  I like the self-reliance that I’ve had to acquire, and I appreciate those times when I know I need help (and am not afraid to ask for it).  I like the challenge of needing to plan or think things through, and I appreciate the feedback and ideas that I get from others when I need it.  I like that I answer to me, and now my daughter, and no longer worry about whatever judgments might come my way from a partner.

I did not originally plan to be single, and wouldn’t rule out couple-dom if it dropped from the sky.  But having gone done this path, I am increasingly comfortable in not having the need to be in a couple. I have found a psychological or emotional freedom in this single state. I don’t need to negotiate my life with another adult.  I don’t need to have expectations of another adult’s behavior; expectations that often get dashed.  I don’t have this sense that I always need to explain myself.  I just am.  And this is what really frees me up to be a mother.

Don’t get me wrong.  I have a lot of admiration for those couples who can make it work.  Can let each other be themselves and support that unconditionally.  Yet I can’t help notice how many friends of mine, mostly women and mostly mothers, who seem to be in a constant tug of war around who is responsible for what and how much of their labor goes unnoticed or undervalued.  Even in those couples that have very engaged fathers, there is still a disconnect.  The day to day tasks of mothering, and the almost constant monitoring and planning, takes a toll.  Having to remind your partner to help, to act, to acknowledge takes a toll.  Working through differing parenting styles and expectations, takes a toll.  Meeting the needs of your partner, as well as your children, takes a toll.  Yes I know that there are all sorts of benefits, or at least I assume there are.  But still ….

So to those who negotiate the terrain of being a partner and a parent, I ask these questions: ”How do you do it?” “You must be exhausted!” “I could never manage.” “Don’t you just go crazy, sometimes?”

Confidence

Tags

confidence, parenting

 I love this picture of my daughter.  Well really, her shadow.  She is scrambling up a huge jungle gym — joyfully unafraid.  Her abilities to climb, balance, and explore are amazing. She is so comfortable in her body.   I wonder how long this will last.

One of my primary tasks as a parent, especially the parent of a girl, is to raise my child to have confidence in herself.  I want her to embrace her talents, to have a sense of self-assuredness. I want her to havCce confidence, but not the arrogance, self-centeredness, or entitlement that can masquerade as it.  Helping her develop this confidence means encouraging a certain amount of risk (which she is willing to take more than I’m willing to observe) and allowing for some boundary testing.  It requires letting her make mistakes and assisting her in learning from them.  It is her mastery of what she wants to explore on her terms that, at least for this kid, result in the greatest boosts in confidence.

Reining in my own fears and ineptitudes is a significant challenge (no one told me that not projecting one’s crap onto one’s child was the major fete of parenting).  I hate heights and never liked the climbing, tumbling, dancing, balancing, cartwheeling activities that my daughter embraces with such enthusiasm.  I also can’t be a co-participant.  Teaching her to swim, throw a frisbee, spike a volleyball or knock down a free throw — no problem.  But not only would I look like a fool, I also significantly increase the likelihood of permanent injury if I try to somersault or stand on my head.  So I watch, encourage, and try not to interfere.  In return, I share with my daughter some of what I enjoy, so she can see that mommy is confident too.

We live in a culture that pretends to care, nourish and support children.  But in reality, the toxic swill that most of our kids swim in every day, in the forms of mindless consumerism, violence, frayed parents and shredded communities, thwarts their talents and more sadly, their sense of who they can be.  Offsetting these factors requires skills and decisions that I hadn’t realized were so essential to parenting.  I need to be purposeful in the choices I make so that she has the needed opportunities for her development. I need to be mindful of what I am modeling for her.  I need to be exhibit confidence, so that she can see what that looks like — even if I don’t feel it at the time.

What are our strategies and choices for raising confident children?