The REAL wrong turn, according to Everybody

So maybe I'm feeling particularly shitty because I woke up this morning and discovered that our kinda sick-looking, half-paralyzed Beta fish died overnight.  He was stuck head-down into the gravel at the bottom of the tank, like his last act in life was trying to bury himself.  Since Mommy is in charge of human and animal health in the house and the buck stops with me, it's my damn fault the  thing died.  Don't try to tell me otherwise.  Of course, the 2-year-old lost interest in the thing weeks ago and so has not noticed the missing fish, but Hubby got a little upset that we (I) had managed to kill a living thing.  It's not a good day when you're flushing dead fish down the shitter before your 1st cup of coffee (that I had to drink with skim milk instead of homogenized because we're out of homogenized, blech.  That's like adding white water to your coffee or worse, coffeemate).

So, good morning, it's time to change a diaper, flush a pretty but dead fish down the shitter and then drink your yucky white-water coffee.  Have an awesome day.

This is on the day when I have to host/attend this cocktail event thingy that I have NO motivation to go to.  The one that I got roped into because facts were either withheld or underplayed when it was presented to me, and I can't find enough bitchiness inside me to quit because I've never quit anything I've given my word to...  You know, the kind of group project that everybody but you and 1 other person thinks is super great, and you and the other person think it's lame and bitch about it all the way home after every meeting?  This cocktail thingy is being blown out of all reasonable proportion, there's a powerpoint presentation involved and decorations, food and drink, all for about 20 people that I don't know, and the group is all like giddy, and like "did you practice your portion of the powerpoint?" and I'm thinking, no, I did not practice presenting 20 minutes of statistics to 20 strangers because I'm used to speaking for, like, 3 days on end with people I'm supposed to teach, guide, mentor and be a Role Model to in the name of a national federation with a multi-million dollar budget and thousands of members.  Plus, I think the whole thing is pretty lame and can't be bothered.  The Latina Girl and I both think so and can't wait for the whole thing to be over and done with.

Today and the f'ing cocktail is same day that Hubby knows about since nearly 5 weeks ago.  The day he was supposed to help me out and go get The Son from Grandma's house because I'm not available, and then booked a business dinner, informing me of it two days ago.  That's after I went and told The Aunt that I didn't need her to babysit today, because he'd be at Grandma's house and Hubby was picking him up.  Now there's a whole logistics thing where Hubby will bring Auntie the car seat at work, and Auntie will pick The Son up and bring him home, but only if Grandma already gave him dinner, all this when Auntie is notoriously late all the time and will probably not show up at Grandma's when she is supposed to, and then Grandma will tell me all about it on the phone tomorrow...

That's not really the point.  The point is that SAHMs (Stay At Home Moms) are very, very dismissible, according to Everybody.  I'm told either that I'm exaggerating, that I'm not the first person to go through this and to suck it up, or that others have Jobs and so everything must be forgiven because they Work.  At Jobs.  Real ones. 

Show up 2 hours later than you were supposed to, and don't call to let the SAHM know?  That's OK, according to Everybody, because Mom is at home and doesn't really have a 'set schedule' or 'real commitments'.  Because things like nap times, meal times, snack times, appointments, meetings and promises to 2-year-olds don't count as important scheduley things nor commitments.

Say you'll babysit and then cancel the night before (nonchalantly and unapologetic)?  Everybody thinks that it's OK, because, really, what kind of serious, important plans would the mother of a 2-year-old have when she's counting on her only day off in a week (or more)?  A mother doesn't Work at a Job so she can do whatever unimportant crap she had planned for that day any other day.  Because the 16 things you get done alone in 1 day will get done just as quickly with your toddler in tow, including that wax appointment at the salon you can't bring him to.  Duh, who doesn't know that?

Do you, as a SAHM, have things like 'feelings' and 'frustration'?  Oh, no, I guess it really sucks to be you.  Because you CHOSE to stay at home, you see, so you have to shut up and swallow that choice for the rest of your life.  Of course being a mom is the 'most important' and 'toughest' job in the world, absolutely.  No one disputes that.  They just don't want to hear you whine about stuff like you wanting to cry every time The Son asks you to sing that song, because you've sang that song 125000 times already this week.  Or when you just want to talk about how you didn't realize caring for another human being day in, day out, would be the most bone-wearing you'd ever do (shout out here to all those who care for another human being in their homes 24 hours a day, young or old).   That was your choice, now suck it up and don't bore anyone with the details.

And do please try to tell your face and attitude that you are a happy person, because you've been kind of bitchy lately, quite frankly.  I mean, it's not like when he was a baby, when it was really tough and you deserved repsect and offers of help.  Like back when he was sleeping 18 hours a day with 2 naps a day and could stay in a pack in play while you showered and emptied the dishwasher.  Things are breeze now that he's 2, can open child-proof cabinets, walks, runs, climbs, jumps and wants to 'help you' do everything from folding clothes (which he rumples into a ball and throws on the floor) to washing countertops (screaming when I don't let him have the toxic spray-bottle of soapy-soap I'm using) to vaccuming the carpet (he only vaccums sections of about 6 inches at a time).  He also requires full-time, full-eyes-on supervision all the time, or constant entertainment in the form of play, crafts, music, reading books, going to the playground, playing outside in the yard, running races, being pulled in his wagon, being pushed in his stroller, keeping his hands off of the stupid candy displays at arm's reach at all the check-out cash lanes in every store, meals, baths, boo-boo kissing, etc.  And he's not really napping anymore, so full-time, awake-time duty for a SAHM with a toddler (as opposed to that quiet, sleeping and immobile baby) goes from 7:00am to 8:00pm.  Yeah, but he sleeps nights, doesn't he?  So what are you complaining about?

What?  Daytime activities, you ask?  There are no organized daytime activities for toddlers.  Daytime is for daycare, Everybody knows that.  Everybody expects toddlers over the age of 18m to be handed over those overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated, under-funded and (too often) under-trained and under-motivated daycare workers.  I see them at work, in the playgrounds and fun centers and when they are walking their inmates in a chain-gang with their little orange jumpsuits pinnies on.  I see them stare blankly off into to space while they push a bored-looking toddler in the swings, who looks at us in envy while The Son is giddy with mirth because I pretend to munch on his toes with my hands every time he swings toward me.  That's the difference, you see, between a well-intended but underpaid and under-appreciated stranger and an unpaid and under-appreciated mother.  Toe-munching and laughter vs. blank stares and boredom.  But that is also why the mothers are so f'ing tired all the time - we're on for 12-13 hours a day non-stop, but we put so much more goddam heart and effort into it.

Now give the job and the person doing it a little more goddam respect, willya?  'Cause Mother's Day was just  2 days ago and is already a distant memory.

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.