Not guilty

So I like to read a variety of blogs by people I barely know or don't know at all. It's mainly a way to pass the time when the baby's settling down to sleep and I'm trying to transition into editing mode. Rarely do I think about the posts a second time, but occasionally I like to comment. Almost never do I even remember what I've remarked. But, oh man, I'm feeling pretty fired up this morning! (Note: Well, and this afternoon. Didn't get this all written during morning nap.)

One of my favorite bloggers recently wrote about how she sometimes feels "mommy guilt." From what I gather, this is the feeling that people get when they *gasp* sometimes put their own needs or wants above those of their kids. Or when they have to go to work instead of staying home with kids. Or when there's just not enough time in the day to spend as much time with the kids as desired. Or any other combination of things in which they perceive they are slighting their kids in some way.

I can understand how a person would feel that way. I know a lot of people who put pressure on themselves in various ways and whose unrealistic expectations, once unfulfilled, could morph into guilt. And most of them are, admittedly, female with children. In fact, Jeff would tell you, and I would usually agree, that I am definitely a person who expects too much of herself and gets into slumps when not able to accomplish everything I want to. My disappointments don't translate into guilt, though, so much as into actual disappointment, sadness, and discouragement.

For example, say I do about 99% of washing dishes and laundry. And I take care of Matthew all day. (I can't really include that in the "work" category, since we play most of the time, but it is still difficult at times.) When he's awake, he gets at least 80% of my attention at all times. As much as I'd like to just stick him in the doorway bouncer thingy or the exersaucer for a while and do something else, it's not going to happen (maybe I avoid that type of "mommy guilt" triggers unconsciously?) And say I also try to put in time for my paying job and for writing letters to my relatives I don't get to see very often. Occasionally I do some of the cooking. Most of the time this is all very doable. Sometimes not. And if I'm really tired and haven't gotten everything done I want to, sure, I'll feel some sort of negative emotion. But again, not guilt.

The original blogger wrote: "I wrote a post this week at CafeMom to discuss my parenting philosophy of experiences/education vs. stuff and to talk about how that soothes my Mommy Guilt and .. and I was genuinely surprised at the responses. The OVERWHELMING MAJORITY of commenters 1) have no guilt whatsoever, 2) didn’t quite grasp the concept of Mommy Guilt being self-imposed and 3) made the assertion that it’s brought on by my working outside of the home.


HOW INCREDIBLY FREEING, TO FEEL NO ACCOUNTABILITY! I CANNOT FATHOM."

I fall into the first category, scoff at the readers who fall into #2 (reading comprehension amongst commenters, apparently not so good), and feel it's a bit presumptuous for people to assert #3 when that's not their experience.

But then, I begin to feel a little angry. That last quoted sentence, all caps in the original, seems just reactionary. I know this is the internet and all, and people blog precisely to say how they feel––as I'm doing now––but it strikes me as unfair to assume that all people who do not share a common experience with you are immediately wrong. Or irresponsible. Or unaccountable for their actions.

Not feeling guilty ≠ no accountability.

Not feeling guilty ≠ "freedom" per se.

We each make our choices. Here's where the post gets boring and philosophical. I think a lot. I had a hard time as a teenager. My mom is an alcoholic. It was rough. But in the end, I'm a lot more "me" for having had that experience. Let me explain.

I've learned a lot: We can't choose how other people are. We can only choose how we are. This relates to "mommy guilt" being self-imposed. I went to Al-Anon for a couple years, where I mainly napped and ate cookies while old ladies talked about their husbands' drinking problems. But a good thing was reading the "The Twelve Steps of Al-Anon," (into which, incidentally, I don't place much stock. But I find them good to think about). Step 4 is "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves." I think people should do this regularly. Then follow it up with Steps 5-9. (You'll have to Google here if you're actually that interested.) And then, presto! What's there to feel guilty about?

Another thing: Some other time that I found difficult, I was reading the Bible. I got to Matthew 22:39: "Love your neighbor as yourself." And I thought, Oh, that's so difficult. How can I love my neighbor as myself if I don't love myself? It was the proverbial lightbulb over the head, and I realized I had to take care of myself first, to be able to love others.

So this is what I try to do. Take care of myself (with Jeff's reminders, because really I do have a hard time just relaxing and not doing something every single minute). Then take care of Matthew and Jeff. Then do other stuff.

But we still haven't gotten to the part that makes me angry! (It's like politics. All these people take the narrow view that everyone who disagrees is an idiot for whatever reason. We all have different experiences! Different priorities! Different struggles!)

The original blog states at the end, summarizing the writer's struggle between staying with her sick kid and meeting her running group, "So .. according to most of those readers, I should’ve shoved my kid off and gone off to run without thinking a second thought about it. Yeah. Sorry, I’m just not that mom."

THAT'S THE THING! We AREN'T all saying that! Some people may be. I am just asking for my experience to be validated. Not agreed with necessarily but just accepted for as it is. I, personally, would not choose exercise over sick kid. Some people might. And that's their prerogative. They may need that run to be able to continue. When Matthew was a newborn, I often chose hot, sound-muffling shower over trying to comfort fussy (not-hungry, I should clarify) Matt in the late evening when Jeff was home. (Incidentally, is there "daddy guilt"?)

And then I get really angry. First let me preface it by saying that I know blog commenters often write things to make the person posting feel better about him or herself or to feel a sense of support. But still. Here are the lowlights of the comments:

• Oh lord. LIARS. Seriously. I don’t know ONE mother who hasn’t at ONE point broken down because they felt the mommy guilt (whether it be go to work, go exercise, go – heaven forbid – take time for themselves…what have you). [...anecdote about commenter's own guilt...] Again I say, Liars. If your child is your world (which for most moms is the case) then you’ve felt at least SOME mommy guilt at some point.
• I honestly believe that Mom Guilt is simply Us Wanting To Always Be Better. If people like you and I – who want to always be better – are SAHMs we would feel guilty. Working Moms: Guiltly. Millionaire Moms with Perfect Children: GUILTY. Because no matter how perfect we may be living our lives, we always want to be BETTER. And the side effect of that is guilt. And I think it’s an okay trade off. If you’re not trying to be better…then you’re stagnant and I’m glad our children grow up with role models like us who never accept things as they are and always want them to be better. Even if sometimes that leaves us with irrational guilt.
• There are plenty of moms who live without the burden of mommie guilt. They leave their kids in the car in 100+ degree heat and think it is fine because the locked the doors and rolled the windows up to prevent anyone from kidnapping their babies. They lock their kids in the closet while they go have a drink and watch a movie and feel good because their children can’t get hurt with anything inside the closet. I could tell hundreds of true stories of how guilt-free parents “take care” of their kids, but most of them haven’t been to court yet and can’t be discussed. 

I firmly believe people should feel free to embrace, discuss, and empathize. But I draw the line when that tangentially attacks me, and what choices I am constantly making, especially in regard to motherhood.

My summary of quasi-personal attacks for not feeling "mommy guilt," based just on the comments above (the worst of the worst, admittedly):

• You're a liar. Your child is not your world.
• You must not want to improve your life. You're not such a good role model. 
• You think it's okay to threaten your kid's life and emotional well-being to do whatever you want (back to the not-guilty ≠ lack of accountability).  

If you know me, you know that's not true. We all have different struggles. We all need to take care of ourselves to take care of others. And we all have different priorities. Why spend so much time attacking others to make ourselves feel better?

Now I've written and I'm over it. What's your experience? What are your thoughts? And, if you're a dad, how's that the same or different?

Boundaries

This baby is testing his boundaries. I think he thinks he's going to outlast me. Little does he know that I have about, oh, 28 years of practice in stubbornness. I won't be worn down.

Specifically, Matthew really really wants to chew on the toilet seat. Also pull down the DVD player and anything else attached to cords near the tv. And there's one other table he's not allowed to touch, too, with a bunch of stuff on it. So we've entered that years-long phase where he has to learn the meaning of no.

It's funny because he'll just be playing in the livingroom when he gets this look in his eye. Then he crawls at top speed (which is remarkably fast) toward one of the three things he's just not allowed to put his grubby little hands (or teeth) on. He stops, looks around for me, and reaches out his hand (or face). Sometimes after the first "no" and removal from the area, he decides it's not worth it. But sometimes he just has this little defiant look on his face, like, "Hmm, is she going to stop me this time? I think I can get to it. Going for it!" So we repeat the whole thing. After about four times of me moving him away and saying no, Matt will start crying––what I think as his exasperated crying––and then still keep doing the same thing! Eventually he gives up, once he realizes he should bide his time for a better opportunity, I suppose, and crawls away to do something else.

Babies are so transparent. I can practically see Matthew thinking, "Maybe I can get it this time. Or this time. Or this time. Ahh, fine, maybe not."

When I read things on the internet, it just makes me laugh and cry. I'm going to go ahead and judge other people now: It drives me crazy when on message boards people say things like how you should never tell your kids no, and babies can't learn things or understand anything, and you should babyproof your entire house so your kids can have the run of the place. After all, they're just babies. They're only little once. Let them do whatever they want, because they're just curious and don't know right from wrong.  

Because that's our job! That's what parents are for! As far as I know, there's not some magic age where babies suddenly begin to understand everything, know what they can and can't touch, and just simply learn appropriate behavior in different circumstances. We have to help them learn! Right now!

I mean, if Matthew can remember that there are patches of sunlight in the guest room that he likes to play in and crawls in there to see them, though he hardly ever goes in that room, he can certainly remember that the toilet is off limits. If he can remember that there are fun doorstops behind the doors, which are normally out of sight, he can remember that he's not supposed to touch the DVD player.

And babyproofing is good, to a point. Sure, we have outlet covers in all the outlets, and I wrapped a blanket around one sharp-edged piano leg, where Matthew is particularly prone to falling, but not everything can be made 100% safe or 100% accessible. And I don't think it should be. The world isn't babyproofed. I don't want Matt to grow up thinking that he can and should be able to touch every single thing that he wants to.

I'm not suggesting that rigidity in teaching correct behavior is the best option, either. We played with some junk mail for a long time the other day, crinkling it and throwing it. I let Matthew take risks appropriate to his age and development. He can touch the grass if he wants to, even if it's a little intimidating. He can climb on his little playhouse, though if he falls, it probably will hurt. He can open and close drawers, and even though he might pinch his fingers sometimes, I'm going to let him do it so he can learn (though not when he's tired because then he does pinch his fingers and cries, and it's sad). I let him stand outside of the exersaucer and play with the things, even though the base is wobbly when he pulls it with all his strength.

But I'm not going to back down and let him be in charge of everything. It would be easy to move the stuff off the end table or put the DVD player and other electronics where a baby can't reach them, but that's not really the point.

I think we've struck a good balance.

Reminiscing about the not-so-good ol' days

I was talking to one of my friends today who has recently had a baby. And it made me think, Wow, I am SO glad that Matthew's not a newborn anymore. Actually, I think that thought probably at least every other day. Jeff and I hope to have another kid sometime in the future, but every time I kind of start to begin thinking about having another kid someday (or some year), I just shudder on the inside thinking about having a newborn.

I'll state here that I've loved Matt from the moment he was born. I'm pretty sure the first thing I said, while crying in happiness (both for having a baby finally and for not being pregnant anymore), was "I love this baby so much!"

But that aside, my goodness, I could not wait for Matthew to get older. The first two weeks were pretty difficult. The first month was not so great. After the second month, everything was much, much better. I listened to that country song "It Won't Be Like This For Long" like a million times. And finally it wasn't like it was at first.

I'm pretty sure people forget what it's like to take care of a tiny baby. All the time people with older kids were telling me to "enjoy every moment" and "oh, I loved when my kids were babies. It was so much easier." Nothing like accidentally making a new mom even more overwhelmed with guilt that she kind of hates taking care of a newborn. I kept saying there was no way every stage of childhood would be harder and harder from newborn on. And so far it has gotten a lot easier. (With the exception of the events leading up to Baby Sleep Chronicles.)

So yeah, around-the-clock feedings, unexplainable crying, millions of diaper changes, and oh, the boredom. I cried a bunch of times at just how tired I was of being in the house. Even walking around the block was difficult for the first couple weeks, still recovering from childbirth and whatnot. I think I saw every show on HGTV at least twice, including episodes that come on in the middle of the night.

During the day, I just counted the hours until Jeff got back home. And texted people a lot, either cute pictures of sleeping baby or complaints about how very many hours I spent feeding Matt per day.

But then it changed. I got more energy and was less ravenous. Matthew got a lot better at eating and it didn't take up nearly so many hours in the day. Now it's only minutes. Matthew realized that he could sleep during the night instead of cry for hours. Jeff turned back into his normal self instead of his slightly-discombobulated-because-of-baby-crying-in-the-night self. That helped me a lot. Matt learned how to smile. And laugh. And then he stopped keeping his little hands in fists all day long and stared at his fingers a lot. That was fun. And now he does tons of things! He's practically a toddler! He'll probably be toddling within the month!

I hate to say that I'm kind of glad that the early days, maybe the whole first two months, is kind of a blur now, but it's true. Sure, some days I wish I could just set Matthew on the floor and not have to worry about him hightailing out of the livingroom to try to chew on the toilet seat, but overall, it sure is nice that he's not a newborn. And now I love staying home and playing all day.

The other day Jeff was saying how it used to be a lot easier to do some things. And that's true. It used to be much easier to bathe, dress, change, and generally corral Matthew. He used to fall asleep anywhere pretty easily. He was much friendlier to strangers. I guess the secret is to forget about how difficult those days are and just remember the easy parts. But then again, it's nice to remember accurately, too, to better appreciate every new day and every new thing that comes with it.

What kind of books do you like?

I read a lot.

I also feel like a disappointment to other people who read a lot.

Conversations go like this:
Big book fan: So, you like to read?
Me: Yeah, I read all the time.
BBF: What do you like?
Me: Uhh...
BBF: Like classics or mysteries or romance or nonfiction or what?
Me: Yeah.
BBF: Well, what's your favorite?
Me: Everything. I like everything!
BBF: But what's your favorite? You can't like everything the same.
Me: Fiction, probably. But not "literary" stuff. Too boring.
BBF: (Seeming annoyed. Probably thinking I've never read a book in my life.) Have you read *book title here*?
Me: Yeah. I liked it.
BBF: What did you think about *character or plot point here*?
Me: Oh, I don't really remember it.
BBF: What are you reading now?
Me: Um, it's called, hmm... it's fiction... a mystery. The main character's name is, uh, hmm. It's about a guy who does a thing and then there's this girl, and she's pretty cool...
Etc.

But really, I'm on my sixth book in seven days. I just can't remember that much stuff! Asking me about a book I read a couple years ago is, I imagine, like asking someone who watches a lot of tv about the details of a particular episode of a show that they like but don't necessarily love that they may have seen a few years ago. They're not going to remember! If I remember it, it was either excellent or horrible. So...

And then with what I like to read. Hmm. I like books that are interesting, happy, or have particularly realistic characters. I prefer fiction with some sad parts, to make it more relatable, but not too many. I dislike sex scenes and gruesome descriptions. I enjoy Christian novels by black women authors. I've read the complete works to date of Michael Crichton, Nevada Barr, and Carl Hiaasen. So that's something I like. I dislike overly florid prose. I like books involving settlers of the Old West. Also books set in Arab countries. I'm not a fan of autobiographies in general, though some are interesting enough. I can't remember reading a biography. (I can't remember a lot, but for real I don't think I've read a biography since ninth grade.) I despise most poetry but fervently love some of it. I love Shirley Jackson, even her short stories. Usually I don't like short stories––not enough story. Too much description that almost goes somewhere but not quite.

That's a decent summary. I really do read a lot. I just don't talk about books a lot. Also I kind of want to keep them to myself. Talking about them sometimes ruins them, courtesy of my college experience.
On the other hand, I love talking about books. So... no consistency.

Vibram Five Fingers shoes

I haven't been running lately because of the surgery, but I thought I'd follow up on the Vibram Five Fingers shoes I got in November.

I'm just not loving them. I thought I would, and I did at first, but now they kind of just pinch and make my feet sweaty.

When I was going to the gym, I liked wearing them there a lot, especially for weightlifting, because I like to feel exactly where my feet are and minimize changes of slipping (like for the leg press and abductors/adductors, etc). Also not a fan of people doing a double-take after glancing at my feet.

When running, I loved them at first because I immediately was able to run further, like a mile and a half instead of four blocks, because they somehow made my post-pregnancy joint pain not a problem. I guess that's the advantage of being able to feel how I land on the ground. But with walking, they really kind of just made me tired. And the whole sweaty-feet thing. Usually I wear my flip-flops for long walks anyway, so I've gone back to that now that it's warm.

So... I'll give the Vibrams another try when I'm allowed to do things other than walk again (April! Woohoo!), but for now I would definitely not recommend them.

Everyday happenings

So Matthew has woken up at exactly 8:09 p.m. the past two nights and sleep-cried for 3 minutes. It's weird. We'll see if he does it tonight. Also, he's still sleeping from 6:30-ish until morning, but morning in his book is around 5:30. So that's not my favorite. But Jeff's been feeding Matt his oatmeal and putting him down for his first nap before leaving for work, so I've been getting a little extra sleep. I've just been tired, I guess from recovering. No other excuse for it.

Speaking of sleep, sometimes I can't sleep so I talk to Jeff while he's sleeping. I'll say, "Ugh, Jeefffff, I caaan't sleeeep. I just can't sleep!" And he'll say something reassuring like, "It will be okay. You'll fall asleep soon," or "Just lay there until you fall asleep," or "Get up and have a snack." I don't feel bad talking to him because it doesn't actually wake him up. He usually doesn't remember talking to me in the morning. But the other night, I said I couldn't sleep, and he said, "Let me input it into my computer." He said it in the same reassuring, matter-of-fact tone as usual and then rolled over and kept sleeping as usual. It made me laugh. Then fall asleep.

In other news, all the superglue is coming off of my surgery incision area. Hopefully it's supposed to do that. It's itchy but I think I'm pretty much healed. Hopefully, because it is nonstop action around here. Matthew and I are going to go for long walks every day since it's easier for me to push him in the stroller than corral him in the house for the same amount of time.

I'm not sure Matt is the smartest baby around, either. Or he thinks he can outsmart me already (I feel confident in saying he can't at this age). Yesterday he kept crawling toward the toilet, with the idea that he should bite the seat and stand up. I kept moving him away from it and saying "no" in a calm but serious voice. After about ten attempts at it, he started crying. And then went for it about ten more times! While crying. With me still moving him away and saying no. Such determination. But such an unattainable, kind of disgusting goal.

And now the little squeaker is awake. Playtime!