Monday cliché

I truly woke up on the wrong foot this morning, when the first thoughts I was aware of were about a lost friend.  Maybe I was dreaming, and the dream bled into my first waking thoughts, but it made for a sad kind of awakening.

It is possible that the sadness is rooted in other issues I'm grappling with right now, like a family member we should not have accepted to do business with who is now dissatisfied with a delay, and which breaks my heart a bit because we really like them and now it's gotten weird.  Or maybe it's just more fatigue caused by our financial woes, which force me to keep a happy face on almost all the time despite crushing worries and no idea what our future will look like, or even where we'll live. 

Or maybe it boils down to learning that we're getting a late-winter dumping of snow tomorrow at the end of a season of dumpings of snow interrupted only by periods of slushy, gross thaws.  For one of the first times in my life, I joined the hyperbolic masses in griping about this seemingly interminable winter.  But I think this is more than a simple case of Monday Blahs.

The loss of this good friend is something that I often think I've gotten over, but just when I'm cruising along without a single thought in my mind about the entire thing, my senses are sparked by something that reminds me of this person and I get sad for a moment.  And for some strange reason, I woke up this morning with a strong sense of loss and a nagging persistent thought that wanted to know: why?

This former friend was the kind of friend that you talk to every day.  That knows pretty much everything about you.  That you've gone on holiday with, and who has stuck by you in your hard times.  It was an improbable friendship between two people about whom others wondered how we ended up friends in the first place.  I was closer to this person than to my own family members.  I cherished this friendship.  And one day, without much warning that I could feel or see, my friend stopped returning my calls.

Like the jilted lover who won't take a hint, I couldn't take the hint.  It was simply inconceivable to me that there was a hint that I should have been taking.  I couldn't understand how or why more than 10 years of close, intense friendship would be subjected to hint-dropping and an unspoken break-up.  But when I just wouldn't stop calling and acting as though our friendship was unbreakable no matter what, my now ex-friend had to tell me explicitly that I needed to stop calling her, and that she would call me when and if she were ever ready to do so.  I vaguely remember being told that the Ex "needed some space" and something about me being "intense".  And for almost five years following that shocking talk, I heard nothing else from my Ex-Friend.  I was never told how my unwavering loyalty in her time of need had been interpreted as being too intense.  I was never told how this expressive and emotional person had gone from telling me and everyone around her that I was her sister-soul, to being banished from her life and barred from calling her.  I never understood what it was about her and her life - and more personally, what it was about me and the friendship I offered - that made me go from sister-soul to banishment in what I perceived to be almost overnight.

Years passed, and like any other bad break-up, I mourned my loss and got over it, resigned that I would never know what happened and simply forced to accept that it did.  I gradually stopped thinking about it and moved on.  Every once in a while, either through friends or on Facebook, I'd be reminded of this person's existence and the fact that I was deleted from her life, and I would be reminded of how much this person had hurt me with her sudden rejection.  Once, we were at an event where she called someone else her sister-soul in my presence, and I had to walk away.  And since this new sister-soul was able to give something to the Ex that the Ex needed, the only thing I could think about her was that she was a lying, hypocritical liar who used people when she needed them and discarded them once they no longer had anything to offer her. 

But overall, I buried the relationship like a dead relative and got on with things.  I did what I used to do to get over old boyfriends: I focused on her faults and forgot about what I thought had been her good qualities.  I got over it, and moved on.  Because what else can one do, really?

Then, out of the blue, nearly 5 years later, a phone call.  An invitation to go out and have dinner.  To talk.  My injured pride told me to decline and stay home, but my curiosity and need to know WHY got the best of me, and I went.  After some awkward small talk, I was told that there was no real reason why.  There were some attempts to explain that there were bad times, lots of "it wasn't you, it was me", some apology for the break-up being so radical and so woefully unexplained and then - surprise - the admission that she missed me and an offer to renew ties.  I was funny and smart and she missed that about me, and missed it in her life.

I felt more blind-sided by this offer of renewed friendship than the actual break-up itself.  I came from from dinner even more confused than before and, if possible, feeling even more betrayed.  There was no enlightening reason why I was treated so shoddily, nothing I could wrap my brain around and learn to accept.  I hadn't done anything necessarily wrong, I just, well, needed to get gone out of her life because of not me, but her.  And now I was being invited back into this person's life because I was funny?  Or something?  So after being pushed away for no concrete reason, I was being invited back for no concrete reason.

I couldn't accept.  As much as I missed the sisterhood of friendship that I had not known up until then and have not enjoyed with anyone ever since, I could not allow myself to trust this person with my heart anymore.  Had I been provided with a reason - any reason, even one that was a blatant fault or error on my part - that my rational mind could wrap itself around, I could have contemplated forgiving and forgetting and rekindled a sort of friendship with her.  If there were something I could have apologized for, something that we could have avoided repeating in future...  But from my perspective, all I got as a reason was, "I was going through stuff, and I suddenly decided not to see you anymore."  Ok, fine.  But why would I invest myself in you and trust you again?  What keeps you from doing this to me again later on??  All of it is basically arbitrary, and based on whim.

And that's what came out of my mouth as an answer at that fateful dinner, five years after the break-up.  I told her that I felt exactly as though I'd been dumped (which I was) and that I worked very hard to get over the pain and sadness and sense of loss I felt at being cut off from a friendship that I thought was for life, unshakable and always there to rely on.  I learned to live without her without really understanding why I'd been forced to do so.  And after so many years, I was over her and had learned to live my life differently.  This new invitation to become friends again was like an ex-boyfriend coming back so many years after you got over him and telling you he never stopped loving you and that he wanted to be part of your life again.  I can finally remember our good times fondly and without so much pain, but I can't fall back into love with you.  It all just hurt too much.

Some tell me that if I were a true friend, I would forgive and forget.  That the friendship I miss so much would be worth it.  That it took my Ex a lot of courage to call me up and offer to be friends again.  But I just couldn't do it.  I didn't hate her, I wasn't really bitter anymore, and I hope she has a wonderful life.

But I have a lot going on in my life that makes me feel vulnerable, and that I steel myself to face every single day.  I don't need more drama, thank you very much.  I need to save up my courage every day to just get through the day, I don't have any courage left over to take a chance, open up my heart and get stomped on again.

Apparently, despite all of this, I still wake up every once in a while with a sense of loss and a need to know the "real reason" why.

Why I am a SAHM

The older my child gets, the stronger the reactions I receive from people when I tell them that he does not attend daycare.  These reactions run the gamut: some are shocked that my son is being somehow deprived of an experience they consider essential to childhood; some smile knowingly and praise me for being home with my child; and some just express jealousy and incomprehension about how I manage to do it.

The shocked group is by far the largest.  They are completely aghast that I would even consider staying home (from work outside the home) and that I would choose to be with my own child all day.  What about his socialization? they lament, looking down in pity at the happy, healthy 2-year-old standing at my knee.  What about you and your needs? they ask in consternation.

My answer comes in several parts.

1. Judging by the criticism of the attitudes exhibited by younger generations presently going through school, and judging by the growing social issues faced by this generation, not the least being violence-driven bullying and suicide and self-harm at alarmingly younger ages, what exactly am I supposed to find positive about the shared early-childhood experience that is the daycare system?  Assuming that early-childhood social, familial and educational experiences are the foundations of personality, the resulting attitudes and personalities exhibited by a few generations of daycare kids are less than appealing.  As a college-educated woman, who happens to have a degree in education, I feel uniquely qualified to raise and educate my own children, thank you very much.  Government services being as lamentable as they are, how can any parent suggest to me that the CEGEP-trained stranger who works in some of the assembly-line versions of toddler care that exist out there be a better care-giver and educator than a loving parent?  We're not talking private institutions with individualized care or the one-on-one experience of being with a dedicated nanny, here.  We're talking about something the government runs and that costs you seven whole dollars a day.  I know that some are better than others, but no matter how good it gets, it still boils down to a stranger versus a parent, and profit versus family.  I can concede that I may do no better than a daycare with my son, but I take offense at the idea that I could do worse.
2. And while we're on the notion of one-system-fits-all institutionalization of early childhood, how come these intelligent free-thinking parents buy into this too-often cookie-cutter concept of child-rearing?  It's one system for all the children, and the child who isn't ready for (or isn't buying into) this production line of so-called care is labelled as a behavioral problem.  "Jessica does not want to put on her snow-suit with all the other children at precisely 10am when she is told it is time for snow-suits.  Nous reccomendons une consultation avec une intervenante du CLSC."  I was told by a former daycare worker that ALL babies are given their own spoon when put into their highchairs at the age of 7 months.  And what if the baby has no interest in using a spoon, and still wants to explore the texture and feel of the food he just began eating about 2 moths ago?  Shrug.  "They all get a spoon at 7 months".  And so my conclusion is the following: we don't allow any individuality at all, as young as 7 months.  So Baby can never evolve at his/her own pace.  Ever.  And if they express an emotion about being forced into a system or schedule that they aren't ready for or don't want?  Get ready for that label and that intervenante.  If early-childhood is not the time for following the child's pace, then it's never time, is it?  And that is, quite frankly, a very sad thing.
3. I don't need to parent my children via guilt trips.  There are none imposed by my child, none that I imposed on myself.  I am with my child every day of the year (barring the times he is with Gramma or Auntie or alone with Daddy).  I don't feel the need to purchase my way back into my son's life and good graces and my firm NO remains an unwavering firm NO, no matter the behavior that follows.  I need the no to remain a no because I will pay for any behaviors coming out of giving in, and I will not be able to rid myself of the indulgence-driven behavior by dumping my child into the human-storage-facility that is daycare.  
4. How come my child is happy to wander off and play when we go to playgroup or when we visit people in their homes, instead of being an insecure ball of nerves that clings to their parents like velcro and screams for attention?  Because my quality time with my child is all the rest of the time he is with me, and he does not need to clamor for attention during the paltry few couple of weekend hours they have with their parents.  I have no guilt about handing him an iPad with an alphabet app while I have a glass of wine with a friend, because we just played alphabet games together for an hour before we came over, and did so every day of the previous week.
5. My needs?  My needs are fulfilled, thank you very much.  My fulfillment does not depend on working in an office with a boss I can only tolerate, or on coworkers more depressed than I am or on a commute from hell.  My fulfillment is not attained by having extra income to buy myself yet more crap that will be meaningless to myself and others when I die.  I do not need a Rudsack jacket and a pedi to believe that I am worthwhile.  What I do need to to feel is satisfaction and pride in the fact that I am doing the very best I can for my son.  And as far as my education goes - which some consider as 'wasted' because I don't work outside the home - I will allow the father of young the Pakistani girl who was shot in the head by the Taliban for wanting to go to school and saying so to speak for me.  Malala's father says, "To educate a woman is to educate the entire family."  I offer my education to my family first, not to strangers.  I can think of no better use of my education than to put it to the service of my own family, so that they may go out in turn and serve themselves and others in the best way possible.  If I were in charge of a lab finding cures for cancer, or the manager of something...  We'd most likely be having a different conversation, but I'm not, and just like I made choices for myself, that researcher or manager would also make the best choices for herself.

Daycare is supposed to be an option, not an obligation or a systematic given that is attached to being a child.  They are tons of children out there that receive better care in daycares than they receive at home, and thank goodness we, as a society, are able to provide that environment to the children and parents that need and choose daycare as an option for making their lives better.  That cancer researcher also has the daycare option available to her, and her choices need to be respected as much as my choices do.  Feminism should be about choices, not about criticizing those who make choices that are different than ours, so I deplore anyone that makes anyone feel that a choice that works for them is a wrong choice.  That daycare and working outside the home has become the only acceptable feminist option.

Opting out of daycare feels much more natural to me than using daycare.  That's just what it boiled down to for me.  I am the mother, I chose to put this life into the world.  I chose to have this child because I want to raise him, I want to spend time with him.  I am the best option for him.  And that raising this baby, this boy, to be a man, is a very empowering and enriching experience.  More and more, I feel like when I have to explain this to people, they won't get it anyway.

Those who give me knowing smiles know exactly what I mean.  They know that you do give up some things, but you gain on many other things.  Like not using an alarm clock to wake up in the morning.  Like shopping in blissfully quiet stores while everyone is at work.  Like not having to face a commute in a car, bus or metro.  Like not having a boss.  Or a dress code.  And never worrying that you haven't spent enough time with your children.  When I hear some working women talk about their stress levels and their unmanageable schedules, I kind of pity them.  It's a rat race when you don't have kids, I cannot imagine keeping up the pace with young children.  When my son waked up with fever, all I'm worried about is the fever.  I cancel the day's activities and we stay home with some Advil and a blanket.  For some working women, a feverish toddler represents unimaginable stress and truly difficult situations.  My whole lifestyle changed when I decided to stay home with my son.  I went from double-income-no-kids to clipping coupons.  But when I think of everything my decision procured me, I have no regrets whatsoever.

And those who sigh wistfully and "wish" they cold stay home?  Please.

For some people, this is a legitimate wish.  I know mothers who are working their way through school, trying to build a better life for themselves and their children.  There are plenty of people who legitimately use daycare.

But for too many others, staying home is a matter of making too many financial and lifestyle sacrifices that people are too unwilling to make.  If you can at all afford it, staying at home is not something you wish for, it's something you just do.  How?  It's quite simple, really.  You give up the things on the following list:  spas, manicures, pedicures, weekend getaways, take-out food, expensive restaurants, designer clothing, the new car, the second car, movie theaters, couples-only all-inclusive holidays down south, tickets to whatever, the new iPhone to replace the old iPhone you got 6 months ago and everything else presented in commercials that make you think you "deserve" to give your money away the people that sell these things.  You think you're "worth" a pedicure?  I think my son is worth MORE than a pedicure.  Or designer handbag.  Or whatever.  I know some people that say they can't afford to lose a salary, and then go on about the show they went to see, the great spa they discovered, the room they plan to renovate and the latest hot restaurant they tried.  I gave that up in part to be with my son.  In my case, I know this situation is not forever, and the pedis and restaurants will slowly creep back into my lifestyle.  It's just four years, until he goes to pre-school, and it is so incredibly worth it.

Again, if I have to explain it, I feel like the only people who will understand are the knowing-smiles people.  I have witnessed all of my child's firsts, helped with the development of his skills, speech, manners and overall education.  I saw the daily increments of his change and development and know him completely.  I know his daily moods and rhythms and can anticipate them, avoiding mood swings and tantrums because I cater my schedule to his routine.  If he needs to break the routine, I can adjust our schedule to accommodate that.  Had a bad night and need to sleep in?  I can handle that, because there's no hustle-out-the-door routine that needs to be respected in order to get to work on time.  He gets socialization at the community center, the library and some play spaces, and then he's out in the neighborhood (bank, grocery store, drug store, post office, park, playground, bicycle paths, museums, botanical gardens, Biodome, you get the picture) with me. 

I was walking to the playground with my son last year when he spotted a blue flower - a weed, really - growing in the crack of the sidewalk.  "Wha dat?" he asked.  I explained it was a flower, just growing in a place they don't usually grow.  My son knelt to first examine the flower closely, and then tried to smell it, shrugging when he couldn't get a smell out of it (probably because he hadn't yet mastered inhaling on command through his nose, and instead exhaled).  "Pitty," he concluded, calling the flower 'pretty' in a way only I could understand.  Then he got up and happily kept walking.  A few paces behind us was a group from a daycare, walking single-file behind a daycare employee and all holding on to a long, tether-like strap with handles.  They were all about my son's age and wearing oversize green pinnies.  When they walked by the flower, one of the girls in the group pointed to it.  "A flower!" she said, as she stopped walking.  The two kids in front of her were pulled to a stop, and the two behind her walked into her and each other.  "We don't have time for that," scolded the employee lightly.  "Now please keep walking or we'll be late for playtime at the park."  The girl pouted, but started walking with the others.  She turned her head to look t the flower once they'd gone past it.

Why judge me for making the sacrifices and choosing one lifestyle for my son and myself over the other one?  We made an independent choice that was right for our family and supported by the rest of my family.  I don't regret one moment of the time I spend at home, and should be made to felt like I should be anywhere else.