20SomethingMom chronicles of a young mom

Every Parent Is an IslandPosted by admin on December 26th, 2009

Sometimes, parenting just sucks up every ounce of kindness, patience, and love I have. It’s like I start each day with a cup full of these qualities, and by the end of the day, they’re gone and I can’t imagine where I’ll get more for tomorrow.

The thing that’s most frustrating is that it seems as though no one around me understands why I get so frustrated. While some of them are parents too, they are past the point of having to devote 50% or more of their energy and thoughts to someone else. Parenting is a lonely business more often than not. Even when I am surrounded by people, I always have one eye on what I’m doing and one eye on my son. I am, of course, the only one who’s completely distracted 24/7. When I need to use the bathroom, he follows me or cries for me from the other room. If I walk outside to check the mail or take the dog out, I have to hurry because who knows what he’s doing inside?

I can’t wait for the day when I can take a leisurely shower — and remember to shave both legs — without calling to my child every few minutes just to be sure he’s alive and well.

Yes, this is likely every mom’s life. But this is my experience, and my experience is often frustrating. It’s just plain difficult, and it’s nothing to sneer at. The reproducers of this world can pretend to have it all together, but little ones (especially little ones who are about to turn 2) get the best of any caregiver by the end of a long day, sometimes even just a long hour. When you’re doing it alone, the good and the bad is multiplied. It’s hard to keep them balanced and avoid consistently swinging from one extreme to another.

We had a wonderful Christmas, but as most parents know, holidays are no-napping, sugar-eating, staying-up-late, screaming-for-toys days. There is no lounging on the couch in a turkey-induced stupor for those of us named Mom.

It is ironic that the past few weeks (my blog-neglecting weeks) have been so difficult, yet so fun. My little boy has a mind of his own now, and is learning to put his opinions into words. I get countless hugs and kisses every day, and am pleasantly surprised by his independence and caring gestures.

There are nights, though, like tonight, when I grit my teeth as I hold my crying child and think “if only he were a crying newborn again.” I miss the baby phase so much. But there are things about being around an insanely tall, intriguingly bilingual 23-month-old that cannot be matched by the company of a helpless baby.

I suppose finding the humor and joy in every moment becomes more difficult when you’re experiencing the low points by yourself. The important thing is that I am sticking it out, waking up every day intending to stretch out my allocation of kindness, patience, and love for as long as I can. Being a mom is the only job in which you lose your mind over and over, but continue to come back for more. It has to be that way, and I’m very glad it is.

Technorati Tags: Family Life, holidays, love, motherhood, parenting, single parent, toddler

Mommy BodyPosted by admin on December 1st, 2009

I do not remember a period of time in elementary, middle, or high school when I didn’t worry about what I was wearing or how my hair looked. I was the tallest of all my friends, and often the widest. I wanted to wear the tiny clothes from Limited Too and 5-7-9, but my hips never wanted anything to do with juniors’ clothes. Worst of all, I started breaking out at age 10 and haven’t stopped.

Everyone has their body woes, and there’s no doubt that we exaggerate our own flaws. Still, the formative influence of the preteen years on girls’ lifelong body delusions is profound.

Size is relative, and competition is fierce. Depending upon who we are around, we might feel thin or fat, tall or short, trendy or outdated. This is particularly damaging when we reach the stages of pregnancy and nursing.

Pregnancy is the only legitimate excuse a woman ever has to eat what she wants and gain weight on purpose. It is equally liberating and terrifying. After years of trying to have control over your size and shape, you have to relax into whatever mold the baby and your body decide to put you in. Postpartum, you still have much of the weight/skin, yet feel that you have none of the excuses. We all hear about the Heidi Klums of the world losing all their baby weight in a month, and suddenly feel pressured to be runway-ready with a newborn in our arms. In reality, it is incredibly unhealthy to rapidly lose weight while breastfeeding, and even if you are not. There is a reason for those fat stores, and getting rid of them intentionally means depriving your exhausted self of what little energy nature gives you to get through new motherhood.

The younger you are, the quicker you bounce back, but your body is still permanently changed from the pregnancy and birthing experience. It seems to me that it’s even more difficult to face the physical alterations of motherhood when you’re a young mom, because the world doesn’t yet expect you to be going through them. If I were in my 30s or 40s, complaining about stretch marks and shopping for “mom jeans” would be acceptable. At 23, I still want to look my age (i.e. shop at American Eagle), but according to the modern timeline of life experiences, I’m a good decade ahead. A young mom can’t say a thing about the way a baby has changed her body without an older mom looking down her nose and shooting her a “just-you-wait” scowl.

In some ways, I appreciate my body more now because I can look into the eyes of the little person it created. But it’s difficult to ignore the temptation to compare myself to women my age who haven’t had their breasts stretched and butts widened. At the same time that I miss the feeling of a creature fluttering in my belly, I am critical of my new hint of a muffin top and smaller bra size.

Just like many other things in life, the mommy body is a paradox. Skinny-girl worship in the media hits us with the same force as messages about loving The Shape of a Mother. It is impossible to maintain the pre-baby figure, even with the help of cocoa butter and surgical intervention.

All I know is: I can’t wait until my friends have an opportunity to grow in all the right places. Then, while I may not always love my body, I’ll at least be able to talk about it in an appreciative way, rather than an “ohmygod, i am so fat this week” way. Body talk changes when baby talk begins. Let’s start talking.

Technorati Tags: body image, girls, Heidi Klum, motherhood, postpartum, pregnancy, preteen, the shape of a mother, womens' issues, young mom

20Something DoubtPosted by admin on November 14th, 2009

Generation Y. We grew up with cassette tapes and VHS movies, Walkmans and LiteBrites. Now, we are the Facebookers and Tweeters, the perpetually connected. 

Many of us had few worries until recently. We got everything we ever needed, and most of what we wanted. Our parents turned their Clinton-era riches into our cars and college educations. 

So, why is every 20something I know severely depressed? 

Part of it is just the natural side effect of pulling away from those who kept us fed and clothed and happy. But Generation Yers have to deal with something unique: literally not being able to pull away. We can’t all afford to pay for our own apartments, cars, food, cell phones, and certainly not our own health insurance. Yet, we want to be able to. None of us wants to rely on our parents forever. Do we have a choice, though, in an era marked by the lowest relative wages since the 1970s and a steadily rising cost of living?

The “Great Recession” has contributed to the burgeoning ranks of unemployed and underemployed college graduates, but this problem was present before the real estate bubble burst. Young, educated people have met unprecedented problems in the job market since 2000. A decade ago, it was less clear that this was a symptom of nationwide financial sickness. Now, even though the reality of a fruitless job search is widespread, we still blame ourselves. That’s the American way, after all: to believe that we all have control over our economic circumstances. All that we’re getting from this attitude is a huge amount of guilt, and large piles of unpaid bills.

Our parents and grandparents could call it entitlement, could say that we expect too much and aren’t willing to work hard enough. These are the same people that brought us up to believe we would find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, if we just followed the rules.

We should all be concerned about more than attitudes when an entire generation is incapable of supporting itself. I have all the desire in the world to keep my son happy and healthy, but the fact remains that if either of us had a dire health emergency, I would not have the funds in place to keep us from sinking into a bog of medical debt. Even things as vital as food are driving a wedge between those who can afford them and those who can’t. It’s no longer true that you can simply invest some elbow grease and reap fair rewards, and we certainly can’t get ahead as quickly as our parents did.

While this exaggerated period of struggle is disproportionately affecting those of us who already have children, it is also defining the ability of the childless young people to ever create a stable home life. Economists have identified our generation as the first since the beginning of the 20th century that will not be better off than the previous, and who knows what that will mean for our children? If we can’t give them anything close to what we had, will they have even more challenges? Or will they be better able to face financial difficulties, and therefore well-adjusted?

There are exogenic cultural factors in the 20something, “I’m broke” dilemma. But on a personal level, no matter their origin, feelings of worthlessness can be devastating. If we push and push and never see results, we lose faith in ourselves and our belief systems. I only hope that my peers can find something worth living for when they have nothing to live on, and learn to distinguish between the things they can change and the things that happen to them.

Technorati Tags: 20something, college graduates, depression, economy, financial hardship, Generation Y, Great Recession, money, parenting, unemployment, wages

You’ll Never Catch Me CleaningPosted by admin on November 3rd, 2009

Amen.

I can cook, clean, iron, and wash things just as well as the next person. But, I don’t. I don’t like doing any of these things, and I take shortcuts whenever possible. 

I’ve always been anti-domestic activities, but I’m even more so now that the majority of my time is spent with a toddler. Why would I use the precious naptime hour to wash dishes? Perhaps if I had an office job, hence a reason to have pressed clothes, I’d care a little more. But I’m very practical about these things: I don’t care any more about walking around the house in wrinkled shirts than I do about putting on makeup to go to the grocery store. 

When things are simply purposeful, not all-consuming, they have the potential to be more enjoyable. I can use folding clothes as a reason to take a breather, and I can enjoy cooking an elaborate meal once a month because most of the time, I grab cereal or make myself a wrap. 

It’s like anything else in life; balance is key. When I start tripping over toys, I go on a ten-minute organizing spree. When I feel like a slob after days in the house, I curl my hair and find an excuse to leave. I could certainly live in pajamas 24/7, but I avoid the routines that run so many people’s lives. 

A healthy work ethic is important, and I was certainly raised in a busy household. I think I am the only one of my immediate family members who can sit down for more than twenty minutes at a time without jumping up to start the next task. Perhaps it is a kind of rebellion, a decision to get away from things I don’t value but always had to do. I feel about housework like I do about the few “regular” jobs I’ve had: what is the point of doing this exceptionally well? 

The long and short of it is: I’d rather be reading. Or writing. Or running. Always have, always will.

So, as the mom who must instill that same work ethic in my son as he grows, how do I get across the importance of duties without clouding the lesson with my own distaste for all things mundane? I definitely don’t want to be stuck with doing his laundry while he waxes poetic about the uselessness of such a thing. Yet, I want him to pick up on the idea that the drudgery is but a means to an end.

Maybe there will come a day when I have more kids, more work, and more living space, and suddenly have to stick to a shower-scrubbing schedule. But for now, I refuse to spend buckets of time doing things I hate. 

Technorati Tags: balance, cleaning, cooking, domestic tasks, housework, parenting, work ethic

Life, InterruptedPosted by admin on October 30th, 2009

When you get pregnant at a “young age,” the world stops turning. At least, that’s what everyone expects it to do. As I watch my baby approach his second birthday, I’ve been reflecting upon my pregnancy and how my life might have played out had I not been blessed with the very best of interruptions. Here’s what I imagine it would look like:

• I would still think parents are not human. I think we all hold our parents to impossible standards, and only when we are forced to make the day-to-day decisions that form a person do we understand what they went through for us.
• I would not have slowed down after graduating from college. I would likely have jumped into a 9-to-5, something I’m not cut out for. Now, I have the luxury of setting my own schedule and spending quality time with the most important person in my life. When I take the next step on a career path, I’ll be ready for it.
• I would never have found the gray area in everything. When you’re dealing with a developing person, you realize that growth, interaction, and love are not linear. There is always a different way to do things, and no one way is correct.
• I wouldn’t have as great an appreciation for my Spanish language skills. There’s a huge difference between speaking a second language in a professional or academic capacity and using it every day with a baby. I have learned so much about my abilities, and become fascinated by the process of language acquisition. 
• I would not smile as often as I do with a child around. Babies, and especially toddlers, have a knack for making frustrating moments funny. It is literally impossible to not smile when your little one says “mama” or puckers up for a wet kiss.
• I would still be wondering when I would have a baby, and feeling like I hadn’t fulfilled my purpose. For some people, having kids is something they imagine doing in another lifetime, once they grow out of the young adult phase. For me, it was a goal in itself from the time when I used to line my dolls up on the couch and read to them. Nothing feels more natural to me than being a mother.

Having a baby is just part of life — an event that holds down the fast-forward button rather than pressing pause. No matter if you are 20 or 40, a newborn’s arrival could be seen as a disturbance, but so could a job loss, a move, a death, or any number of significant moments. If we think about a baby as an interference in our well-laid plans, we won’t be open to the surprises it brings. 

And I don’t just mean surprises of the dirty-diaper variety. For me, the greatest surprise has been how watching my son grow has inspired me to go back to school and pursue things beyond motherhood, to question who I thought I was. He has pulled me out of my comfortable place in the mud, without saying a word. Everyone should be lucky enough to experience this: being blindsided by a change so human, we could never have created it with mere ambition.

Technorati Tags: baby, life lessons, milestones, motherhood, parenting, pregnancy, Spanish, young mom

Layers of PrivilegePosted by admin on October 22nd, 2009

Was I born with an inflamed social conscience, or has it simply come to overwhelm me over the years? I guess you could say it’s ironic that someone like me — more listener than speaker, more loner than star — is so preoccupied with things that require a voice.

I get frustrated with stagnation, especially in social conditions. Maybe it comes from studying human rights and political science in depth, although my concern for the oppressed existed long before college. Maybe it’s an inescapable part of the Leo-Virgo cusp personality. I just know that I’m constantly fighting with myself, and a world that seems resigned to letting things happen unfairly.

Inequity persists for obvious reasons (the drive for surplus being number one), and because there has always been a powerful-powerless dichotomy, many people assume it is human nature to exploit others to raise your own social position. I don’t subscribe to this too-bad-so-sad philosophy, though. People stay at the bottom of the social food chain because they have been ignored or used by those at the top. This can start to feel much like the biological food chain, in that we think we need to feed upon the lowliest to maintain our place — that others must be miserable in order for us to be happy. 

I am not okay with people saying that this is just the way things are, that I shouldn’t feel guilty about my place in society, or responsible for that of others. I DO feel guilty, or at the very least uncomfortable, about being a member of the white upper-middle-class in America. By virtue of birth, I am one of the luckiest people on earth. But it takes work to preserve that luck, and wealthy white people work hard at that. So, we can’t simply say that those who are born into unlucky circumstances (poverty in America, but especially in the developing world) got themselves into it, and must pull themselves out. The tiniest tweak in quantum order could have reversed our worlds, and nothing that is so dependent upon chance could be worthy of exacerbation. (Besides, What the Bleep Do We Know?)

Instead of trying to close the income gap, the rights gap, we widen it with fear. Political banter about the U.S. health care system or the state of American education is small talk, disguising the real issues underneath. If we don’t believe we have an ultimate responsibility to provide these things for all people (and I do mean ALL people), policy cannot change them significantly. We should be diving into the original mess of our assumptions and prejudices, swirling around for awhile, and revolutionizing the way we think about humanity and happenstance.

This doesn’t mean feeling guilty, because that is only a recipe for reparations. Still, it is difficult to feel anything but apologetic when there is no genuine public outlet for discussing such things as gender, poverty, the environment, and the direction of the human race. Churches and schools have their own agenda, as do private organizations. Motives aside, involvement in these groups can prove positive, but what is the underbelly of charity work? Morality. A relative concept. Thus, the difficulty in looking at the shackled from the vantage point of the free is that we apply standards that must sometimes be swept aside in order to right the wrongs that are wrong to us all.

I can live my life in a Starbucks world and appreciate its luxuries, but I never forget that there are other worlds, and I never want to. I am stuck between the ease of indifference and the cliff of hopelessness. Are you?

I know my restless nature will produce good things in the end, but I feel a burning desire to relate to people with my level of discomfort first.

Technorati Tags: charity, humanity, inequity, Politics, poverty, privilege, social responsibility, What the Bleep Do We Know, white America

Fertility Treatments and Older ParentsPosted by admin on October 14th, 2009

They’ve been all over the news lately: the costs and consequences of fertility treatments, such as IVF and IUI.  Articles like this one from The New York Times explain the real concerns that prospective parents should have regarding multiple births, especially the complications that arise from prematurity.  Given the high cost of these insemination procedures, it is understandable for people to be thrilled at the idea of getting more than one baby, but the risks have a ripple effect on the health care industry, the mother’s health, and, scariest of all, the babies’ futures.  

While I believe that fertility drugs and procedures are necessary for some people who have legitimate problems getting pregnant, it worries me that so many people feel okay about putting off babymaking because they know there is a fallback plan if it doesn’t happen naturally.  Our career-focused culture encourages later partnering and delayed parenthood, and ignores the lasting effects of producing a generation of less healthy children — babies who, if they are not multiples with severe problems from premature birth, often have health problems associated with their mothers’ age (anything from asthma to Down’s syndrome).  Older mothers have a higher rate of Cesarean births and longer, more difficult labors. In addition, older moms are more likely to have difficulty breastfeeding because of the conflicting hormones of simultaneous pregnancy and perimenopause. (La Leche League International) 

Of course, there is a certain amount of common sense in waiting until you are financially secure to have a baby, but 2009 has taught us that even this kind of security is fleeting.  Because of the exorbitant costs of higher education in America, college graduates spend much of their 20s and 30s struggling to pay student loans, and are lucky if they can ever reach homeowner status (which is, ironically, also an unlucky title in many cases).  If you’re waiting until you have enough bedrooms to house your new bundles, you will likely be in the higher risk, over-35 category of parents.  

There are many unknowns when you have a baby at 21, like I did.  But I’d take the kinds of unknowns that arise from living in one-bedroom apartments and finishing college over the ones that could permanently damage my child’s (or my) health.  Even with my young age and complication-free pregnancy, I gave birth at 35 weeks.  Prematurity is often unexplained, and is scary enough when you are at average risk for its occurrence.  I cannot imagine choosing to take a greater risk by placing two, three, or more fertilized embryos in implantation position.  

Granted, I also don’t understand what it’s like to desperately want a child and not be able to have one.  That would be the most devastating news of my life, and I was lucky to have been able to conceive sans intervention.  Do we need to address the educational and economic circumstances in our country such that our children don’t have to wait until they are 40 to be comfortable becoming parents?  Or is conception by whatever means necessary just an individual decision with isolated consequences?

If fertility treatments contribute to longer stays in the NICU and lower rates of breastfeeding, I say they are a social problem at the same time that they allow greater freedom of choice. 

To what extent should we be able to dictate a biological event such as procreation?  If simply letting it happen –when our bodies are most prepared for it to happen — is fighting all of the things we have decided are good for us, eventually there won’t be any viable “us” left to climb the proverbial career ladder.  Is that really creating a better world for our offspring, or is it presenting them with the most difficult challenge of all?

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Technorati Tags: birth, breastfeeding, conception, fertility treatments, IVF, La Leche League, New York Times, older mom, parenthood, prematurity

Gender WonderPosted by admin on October 5th, 2009

I’ve always had somewhat radical views on gender, in the sense that I believe it is a mutable social construct.  It is not until we start placing bows on baby girls’ heads or putting mini basketballs in little boys’ hands that they represent gender differences.  As I watch my boy grow and change, I wonder (even more frequently than I did before I was a mother) what would happen if we never placed them on one side of the scale or the other.  What kinds of differences would emerge naturally?

Of course, it’s impossible to know because even this kind of (arguably unethical) experimentation would take place in the context of a society built upon the male-female dichotomy.  Still, many people fail to remember that sex and gender are two different things.  Sex is chromosomal, biological — a mere determinant of phenotype.  The way we dress, speak, act, work, and love are all elements of gender.  We have to act out our gender, or else no one knows what it is.  And we are all familiar with the prejudice and confusion that can arise from that kind of mystery.  

As parents, we play a special part in the perpetuation of gender roles.  While there is nothing inherently wrong with buying Tonka trucks for a boy and Barbies for a girl, it becomes ambiguous when we freak out about our kids playing with the “wrong” toys.  When I was at the store with my son yesterday, he played with such a variety of toys in the span of 20 minutes that it wouldn’t have been far off to say that he doesn’t have a preference for blue or loud toys at all.  At home, though, because there aren’t any dolls around, I tend to assume that he has an affinity for cars and balls — really, anything that can be raced or thrown.  

I’m not poised to spend money on gender-balancing my son’s toy collection, but I wonder what I will say if, when he becomes fully verbal, he asks me to buy him a toy that’s slated for girls.  I would probably get it for him and worry more about answering questions as to why my son owns something girly than about how it would affect his gender identity.  

Toys are just the most glaring part of what genders a child’s world, though.  I notice certain skills and tendencies in my son that are typically associated with males (and especially developed in the males in my family): mechanical abilities, a desire to perform daring physical stunts, and — most fascinating of all — the instinct to laugh at bodily functions.  Are these things really related to his sex, or are they simply the things I notice or value most about him because I have been conditioned not to pay attention to, for example, his love of cuddling and babies?

This is one of the larger questions that seem to take up an abnormal amount of my time.  I am a big-picture person about most things, and parenting is no exception.  Gender is one of those grand structures that seems to exist for no reason and every reason, and I cannot (nor will I ever be able to) reconcile its incredible influence in modern life.  

I wonder about gender as I play it out for myself.  As a woman raising a boy, I wonder how to make gendered choices for him until he can make them himself.  

What are your gender wonders about raising children?

Technorati Tags: boys vs. girls, children, gender, gendered toys, motherhood, parenting, pink and blue, sex and gender

Absence Makes the Baby Grow CuterPosted by admin on September 28th, 2009

As a newly single mom, I don’t get too many hours away from my son.  I do everything from working to grocery shopping to showering with him by my side (more often, climbing on me).  Although the days are punctuated with plenty of kisses and exciting new vocabulary, my threshold for one-year-old gimmicks is significantly lower than it used to be.  On an average day, I am over it by 10 AM — after a few broken things, a leaking diaper or two, and at least half an hour of shrieking for no reason.

I have tried every method there is to entertain and exhaust my child, and calm myself.  We go on a daily run, ride trucks up and down the sidewalk, swim in the pool, and chase the dog.  Still, my sanity factor is directly proportional to the amount of time for which he closes his eyes in the afternoon and how much coffee I have been able to consume at the ideal temperature and with as little spillage as possible.  There is no better method for relaxing us both than leaving him in someone else’s care for a short time.

My parents have been great about recognizing when I’m about to explode and seizing the opportunity to bond with their grandson.  My dad has taken him to the beach and the park so that I can make progress on grad school applications, and my mom is here every day for bath time, bed time, and tantrum time.  I am struggling to strike a balance between allowing myself to go through the tough moments with no help and leaning too heavily on those who are willing to take over.  

Any parent will tell you how important it is to establish boundaries and create a healthy, respectful relationship with your toddler.  I need to experience it all and have the space to follow my instincts.  There are frequent moments, though, when I wonder if my lack of patience erases that possibility and if it may be better for both of us if someone with a greater patience supply steps in.  Grandparents certainly have an abundance of patience with their grandchildren, if not sympathy for their children.   

The most astounding thing about leaving my son for awhile is how instantaneous the stress relief can be, and how quickly the stress can return.  Parenting is often about swinging from one extreme to another: overwhelming love to impossible frustration.  When I escape (go to Starbucks) for a couple hours, I miss my baby and wonder what he’s doing every second.  Then, I come home and get a great big hug followed by a leech-like creature stuck to my legs…and I start looking forward to my next break.

I’m interested to see how these feelings evolve over time as my son and our relationship mature.  I know that you never stop being a parent, worrying like a parent, but physical separation has to be different in the early years.  I have spent so few days away from my son in 21 months (plus the 8 months of pregnancy) that it’s like ripping off a Band-Aid every time I leave him.  It hurts, I have to do it quickly or risk bursting into tears, and I get to cover my wound again when I have him back in my arms.

Technorati Tags: baby, motherhood, parenting, separation anxiety, single parent, toddler