Making time for me

I felt guilty last night. I'd come home on time and met the family at Flat Top Grill for a dinner that was the opposite of leisurely thanks to an overtired A. I gobbled my free meal between time-outs at the coat rack that she'd earned by throwing forks, grabbing for plates and hitting me.

But that's where my good mommy behavior ended. We headed home and I put my cranky toddler to bed. Then, at Z's insistence I got out the water colors and sat down to paint. But my heart wasn't in it. I was impatient with her whiny demands and ready to head to a neighbor's house for a girls' night and plenty of wine (the good kind). I was glad I wasn't putting her to bed.

But I still felt guilty. She was crying "Mommy put me to bed!" and Josh had been with her since noon. He'd fed and put her and A to bed the previous night since I was stuck at focus groups until 8pm and out with my clients until past midnight. Was it fair for me to leave again? Probably not. But I desperately wanted to connect with friends, apply some alcohol to what's been a rough couple of weeks at work, and sit outside in the summer air--even it it meant getting eaten alive.

So I've come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to win the Martyr of Motherhood award. I'm too selfish. It might seem wrong to spend my time away from work away from my family, but I need a little me time too.

Sometimes Mom needs a little mothering

My mom was here this weekend, and thank G-d. I wasn't sick, I'm not pregnant and no major crises were looming, but I'd been burning my metaphorical candle at both ends for so long I just wanted to hang up my Supermom cape for a couple of days.

So I let myself be mothered. Mom got up with A and fed her breakfast. She helped with dishes and laundry, and ran to Trader Joe's for me (and paid!). She babysat for A on Monday, playing Play-Doh and choo-choo for hours. She even taught her her colors!

She cooked me my favorite meals on Sunday and Monday nights and prepared macaroni and cheese for us to eat after she and Rick left this morning. It was awesome.

There's nothing quite like being a mother to make you appreciate being mothered. Thank you, Mom.

The case against breastfeeding?

Just reading the title, The Case Against Breastfeeding, raised my hackles. But the more I read, the more I found myself nodding along with Hanna Rosin's article in the most recent issue of the Atlantic Monthly.

Like me, the author nursed all her kids for a year, so hers isn't a defensive stance. What she's raising are a couple of interesting counterpoints to the breast-is-best-formula-is-poison blitz. She starts off as a heretic, saying that a close reading of various scientific studies doesn't support most claims that breastmilk is better than formula in terms of a child's IQ, BMI or general health.

Then she says that we're doing mothers a disservice by pressuring them to breastfeed at all costs. If nursing interferes with a woman's ability to work or makes her miserable, is a small potential benefit to her child's health worth making her suffer? Should we make women who are unable or unwilling to breastfeed feel like unfit mothers?

And she highlights a unexpected feminist argument too: if nothing can replace breastfeeding and only women can breastfeed, are we setting up an unequal balance of duties between mothers and fathers? Who's going to wake up at night to feed the baby? Who should stay home to raise the child? Are the answers to these questions going to be colored by one gender's mandate to breastfeed?

Obviously I made breastfeeding work for my kids while maintaining my status as the family breadwinner. But I was able to do so precisely because I didn't view formula as the enemy. There's no way I could have pumped enough milk to feed my children without seriously jeopardizing my career and my sanity so I supplemented. Also, I didn't nurse my kids to make them into superbabies--I did it because it was convenient, cheap and natural. A price and eco-conscious choice to be sure, but one that gave me and my girls enormous pleasure.

I want more women to breastfeed because it's wonderful, it's natural and it's priced just right. But it's apparent our culture needs find a way to support and normalize nursing without equating bottle-feeding with child abuse.

Second time moms weigh in

I posted about my weekend as a Lollapalooza widow on the Chicago Moms Blog and solicited advice from more experienced mothers of two. Check out all the great advice from women who've BTDT.

So green you could puke?

Emily Bazelon's Slate essay Is our family annoying because we own a Prius? is mostly a humor piece, but it raises an interesting issue: by instilling green habits in our children and explaining the very real reasons behind why we reduce, reuse and recycle, are we in danger of creating children as irritatingly self-righteous as those raised in ultra-religious or--G-d forbid--racist households?

No one wants to hear a lecture from a kid on a high horse, be it on how he is headed for an eternity of hellfire because he hasn't accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior or how we're headed for a hellish future on an overheated planet because she drinks bottled water shipped in from Fiji and doesn't even recycle the containers.

So far I haven't managed to mold my 2-year-old into an eco-snob. She knows where we put our recyclables, but turning on the lights and the water at the tap is simply too much fun. And while I've read about the Bisphenol-A in clear plastic baby bottles, when the time comes, I feel it is just as eco-conscious to reuse Z's old Avent bottles than invest in fresh mess of Born Free or glass baby bottles.

Which makes me wonder, does feeding your baby from a Born Free bottle or dressing her in an organic, unbleached bamboo onesie have the same badge appeal driving a Prius? It certainly advertises your eco-mama mindset better than hand-me-downs. But the second-hand goods leave a much smaller environmental footprint.

Are you ready to pop?

If you're asking whether I'm ready to have this baby, the answer is yes. Particularly now. Three months ago? Not so much.

Besides, laboring women don't pop out their babies. Even a lightning fast c-section requires some serious preparation and equipment. My stomach might be big, but there's a baby, fluid and a whole lot of gunky stuff in there. I don't want it to pop. Unless, of course, that means my stomach would instantly deflate.

There are dozens of annoying questions people ask us when we're pregnant or pushing around a new baby.

"Is the nursery set up?" No.
"Does Z know what's going on?" Yes.
"Is she sleeping through the night?" What matters is whether I'm sleeping through the night. "Don't you just love being a mommy?" If I didn't, do you think I'd tell you?

It's enough to make you wish you could just hand them this.
This entry is part of a Parent Bloggers Network's Blog Blast. Hear what other moms had to say by clicking here.

Happy Mother's Day

To all the moms in my life, but particularly to my little sister Eleanor, who became a mother to a little girl for the first time today.

Mommy angst

I was so excited to get my review copy of Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box in the mail yesterday. I'm only a few chapters in, but the book argues that mothers need to maintain their sanity--and themselves--by aiming a little less high. In this age of extreme parenting, internal and external expectations for moms are so elevated and unrealistic that we're setting ourselves up for failure. Society expects us to do everything right: Breastfeed exclusively. Practice babywearing. Make our own organic baby food. Put our families before our careers. Sign our children up for the right enrichment activities. Buy them the right toys. Send them to preschool, ensure they get into the right college. Keep them happy and entertained at all costs.

And most importantly, love every minute of it. Find utter fulfillment in being a mommy.

But guess what? Motherhood isn't a primrose path. It's one of the best choices I've ever made, don't get me wrong. But while it's cool to bitch about being stressed out, it's not socially acceptable to admit that playing with Play-Doh is boring, that we miss staying out or sleeping in...that as much as we'll always love our children, sometimes we don't like them very much.

Enter True Mom Confessions, an anonymous website where mothers can unload their mommy guilt. Some of the posts are funny. More than a few are sad. But what's even sadder is knowing that women need a deep, dark corner of the Internet to share their insecurities.

Are you an Alpha Mom?

Even though I know they're mostly marketing shorthand, labels like "Alpha Mom" rub me the wrong way. I was irritated by the Soccer Mom and NASCAR Dad names applied to previously "hot" target markets in years past, but there is something even more offensive about the term "Alpha Mom."

According the this USA Today story, "Alpha Moms are educated, tech-savvy, Type A moms with a common goal: mommy excellence. She is a multitasker. She is kidcentric. She is hands-on. She may or may not work outside the home, but at home, she views motherhood as a job that can be mastered with diligent research."

The article goes on to say that Alpha Moms are influencers, driving the tastes and purchases of other mothers. I don't dispute this. There have always been connectors and mavens and plenty of marketing books describe them in great detail. So why do we need to describe these plugged-in Gen Xers as Alpha Moms? Are you a Beta Mom if you haven't got a blog? If you trust your instincts or your in-laws instead of the experts? Can we arrest the Gamma Moms for hiring a neighborhood teen instead of buying a SitterCity membership?

The media has already tried pitting working moms against stay-at-home-mothers. The last thing we need is another label that separates and elevates one group of moms above the rest. What do you think? Am I being too sensitive?

The power of onesie

It's not my state, but it's a start. Washington is thisclose to passing a paid family leave law, and MomsRising.org is inviting members to help create a chain of onesies designed to convince officials that paid family is for real children, real mothers and real families. It was easy enough to decorate an old onesie with the message. This week I will mail it to MomsRising in Washington, where it will join hundreds of others in a chain that can be displayed--clothesline style I'm guessing--in Olympia and elsewhere.

It's easy to join the effort. Send your onesie to: MomsRising, P.O. Box 19596, Seattle, WA 98109 or make a donation online.

When mama's happy, her employer makes money

According to MSNBC, more and more companies are bending over backwards to accommodate (and retain) the best and brightest as they bring babies into the world. And the most encouraging thing about benefits like lactation rooms, breastfeeding support and on-site daycare: these perks end up improving the company's bottom line.