Just now I sat down at my laptop to check my email and blog feeds before mopping the kitchen.
Today was so nondescript I couldn’t answer when Dick asked how it was. I am menstruating, to put it clinically, and the weather is gray. Spot has finally toned down the whiny squeak that had me wanting to stab myself in the femoral artery. Sally spent the afternoon at the table making her own Valentine’s Day cards and a customized Valentine box. I think she found an old shoebox in the basement.
I found a week-old note from her teacher that said the kids should make and bring boxes for tomorrow. They should also take their stuffed animals yesterday. Susan traced her name on the colorful Maisy cards I bought. Spot’s diaper rash is back, but we distracted her by requesting the Elbow Dance, which is exactly what it sounds like and way too simple to be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen a two-year old do.
I made cookies and fed the girls hotdogs left over from yesterday’s Blue and Gold Banquet (more on Boy Scouts later). I read three (or four, I’m not really sure) rubbishy novels, and I washed (but didn’t fold) two batches of laundry, plus the sheets on my bed (as I’ve been meaning to for days). I hate it when Dick wakes me in the middle of the night. I enjoy the connubial bliss, but I’d prefer it not to seem like an afterthought.
Now the kids are down. The dishwasher is running, finally, and the flexible spending reimbursements for 2008 are submitted. I haven’t started on our taxes or made my church-lady-fellowshipping visits for the month or finished any of the 94 posts languishing in my draft folder, but these things are on my To Do list, and that feels sufficiently optimistic.
And my kitchen floor needs to be mopped.
Dick is back from his church-family-fellowshipping visits now, and upstairs working on some freelance project, pausing occasionally to tell Susan that, yes, she can get out of bed to go potty. My brother, who is in medical school, called to ask me today for my feelings on the proper plural form of the word scala, which I’ve never heard, though it reminds me of strata. I told him to look on dictionary.com. My sister, who’s in college, IM’s me to ask what she should do her history research paper on. I suggest Theodora, the courtesan who got Justinian, emperor of Rome, to buy the cow when surely he could’ve just gotten a weekly delivery of milk. I tell her I’d love to write a historical novel about Theodora.
But my kitchen floor needs to be mopped.
I get distracted by my Google Reader (it doesn’t take much. In fact, sometimes I sit here, hitting refresh, hoping someone, anyone will have written a post I can think about instead of this stupid kitchen floor that needs to be mopped). My house has been clean recently enough that I remember the feeling of righteous pleasure it brought, though I don’t want a clean house to be a priority, because DAMN, I hope (HOPE) I have some more interesting priorities.
A new post on Freakonomics leads me to a post by Arnold King about the causes of the rise in equality, one of which is the marriage of intellectual equals. When, instead of well-educated men marrying women to grace their homes, they marry well-educated women who will presumably grace a matching corner office. How does he put it?
That is, when highly educated men start looking for wives who are stimulating companions as opposed to kitchen-floor moppers, this reduces cross-class marriages and thereby raises inequality.
This is possibly a better dichotomy than the old Virgin-or-Whore classification of females, though it’s certainly no better than that other age-old division: the Brains-or-Beauty choice Shallow Hal had to confront.
This, on top of Rachel Cooke’s Sunday diatribe about The dummy mummy decade: Boring, selfish, smug: How a generation of women became obsessed with motherhood, is TOO MUCH.
You know what?
I had kids because, at the time, each time (four times, one miscarriage), it was a biological imperative. I could not resist the hormonal demand for flesh of my flesh. And then I chose to stay home because it works in the partnership that is my marriage.
This wasn’t what I planned for when I was taking AP Chemistry, Biology, English, American History, and Calculus. Staying at home full-time wasn’t on my mind when I took the GRE or when I wrote my undergraduate honor’s thesis. Being consumed by childhood concerns and attuned to childish voices wasn’t what I expected when I thrilled to Thoreau’s injunction to live deliberately, to examine life stripped of the trappings of power and prestige and shallow, superficial concerns.
But it works.
Strip away the carpools and the cartoons, the playdates and the PTAs, and you have life: raw, unbearably fresh, growing, sneezing, negotiating of relationships, innocence and laughter, hurts and tears and ills-that-mommy-can-fix-and-those-she-can’t LIFE.
You couldn’t get any closer to real, important life if you built a cabin in the woods and lived there alone for two years.
And you know what else?
I can mop my DING and also DANG kitchen floor tonight and still run intellectual rings around my husband, with his Ivy-league MFA and his guest appearances in Vienna.
And finally?
He’s man enough to love it.
Jane
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ding-dang…..those are strong words!!
I love this post so much!
I was just having a conversation with my boss today about being a SAHM then somehow PROVING you have that “i can run circles around you” intellect. I don’t know why some ppl think it is impossible. I’m definitely (I hope…at least for now…please) smarter than my kid, so there is 50% of the battle.
I hate mopping more than anything on the planet. I’d rather put away laundry (and I hate that too). I’d rather fill my tank with gas and I really, really hate that. You inspire me to be a better mom and be happier that I CAN be a mom, even if it is to only one flesh of my flesh.
Ya… I related to that. Except that my husband is a trial LAWYER, schooled in the best law school in Canada, and he still can’t out-argue me, who has never taken a university course in her life until a few months ago. And as intelligent as he is (and he is very much so) I will always out-write him, out-comma him, out-semi-colon him.
And I do this while I put away all the crap that no one else seems to be able to put away but me. Because they can’t remember where it goes. Sigh.
Yes, sometimes the thought is so tempting, so delicious: I could be doing so many other things right now.
Oh and sorry i didn’t read it first, but the post about dummy mummies…ridiculous. If you don’t want to hear about mothers, strollers, babies, mommy-life, then find friends who share the same views (childless or whatever you call it). Do not berate the millions of women who kind comfort in sharing their mommy experiences with women all over the blogosphere. Sorry, but articles like that make me sick. You judge me for being a dummy mummy, you sure as hell better believe I’m going to judge you for being a total b****.
Sorry for the swears…I just can’t believe you can feel justified printing something so demeaning to your fellow women.
I mean “find comfort” (not kind comfort). angry typing fingers.
Childbirth does not equal a lobotomy! Choosing to stay at home doesn’t mean you’re stupid or less intelligent than parents who (choose to) work. My goodness, I’d be slapped with a big wet fish if I tried to tell my SAHM friends that I’m more intelligent than them because I work. Like the freakonomics comments – since when is cleanliness a dichotomy to stimulation? Do I become less of an intellectual equal to my husband when I mop the floor (ok, that doesn’t happen that often, but I do sweep it more regularly than I mop it!)?? Does he if he mops (it has happened, but only the back deck, not inside the house!)??
And that silly British woman, well. She needs to … I can only think of really rude things that are probably Australianisms and not likely to be understood. What a tosser. Quite often acquaintances/whatever are going to share random things with you that you may not be interested in. Suck it up, be British and polite (and don’t whinge about it afterwards, because that isn’t polite) or just tell everyone you meet that you have no interest in hearing about topics a, b, and c.
Mom Blogs – Blogs for Moms…
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i probably misunderstood your post, because i usually or always do, but it seems to me that you have a need to reinforce to yourself that being a stay at home mom is as meaningful and important as what your husband does.
that’s funny, because what my husband does as a doctor is not that much different from what i do at home. he listens to and takes care of whiny patients and their real or imagined needs. the main difference between our jobs is that he does it for people he does not love or have any sympathy for. i take care of people (our kids) that we both deeply love.
to top this all of, i get to read books and entertain/educate myself all I want while all he has ever time to read is a medical journal that he does not enjoy.
at night i’ll often watch a tv show on my computer while my husband collapses into bed because you know, he wakes up at 4 am, and I wake up at 7:30…
Ah. One of THOSE days…
Cousin Sylwia — No, I think you’ve understood me pretty well, although, as this was mainly a reaction to those two articles, it is a feeling that I need to justify to others that what I do is as important as what my husband does. And of course there is no REAL reason why I should have to justify myself to anyone else, so maybe it is an insecurity or dissatisfaction within myself. (Which I have admitted to in other posts.)
Motherhood is so often denigrated; when it comes from men (like in the Freakonomics reference), it’s almost understandable, but when it comes from other women (Rachel Cooke), it’s somehow even more revolting. Though I guess that’s unfair, because it relies on an expectation that women should be more empathetic.
I love your comparison of doctor and mother. Beautifully said. But, one could argue — what happens when one of the kids has an ailment that mother (or father) cannot fix? Then you go to the doctor. Because the doctor has more training, more knowledge, more access to medication; no matter how loving and kind a parent is, it is the doctor who can heal the body (sometimes). Of course, then you could say — but, the parent heals the soul or shapes the soul or something, and isn’t the life of the mind more important than the life of the body. And THEN you could say, well, what if the kid needs anti-psychotic drugs, and then you need a shrink.
(But I do like what you said.)
Way to make me feel bad. Me, the one who stays home because I am completely unambitious career-wise. Because I’m lazy. Because I can be a wonderful mom and a neglectful mom all in one day. Because I have a fresh start with my kids every day.
I’m not sure how you can be friends with such an intellectually inferior person, who doesn’t get most of your references, who took 5 AP classes so she could help her kids in high school, and who is glad that her husband is smarter than her (since he brings home the bacon).
But I’m happy that you can.
Raising children well is the most important work that can ever be done. But I don’t view the cleaning tasks as being even close to equal in importance. If my house is messy sometimes, is that going to DIRECTLY affect much?
My husband puts criminals in jail. He’s awesome at it and he’s needed. Everything he does at work is important. He’s never sitting around waiting for a call, or playing on the computer at work. In two weeks he hasn’t even had time to take a lunch break.
So, ya, sometimes I feel like what he is doing is more important than what I’m doing or at least more valued. I’m not engaging my children 12 hours a day. All that cleaning crap is necessary and I do it because I’m HERE. Not because it takes any talent or education to do. And that’s why I resent it. That’s why I point out the instances when my intelligence is superior to my husband’s. Because I get frustrated thinking, “Ugh, I could hire someone to do this. Someone who doesn’t have the ability to be a writer or a lawyer. Or someone who LIKES this, because, remarkably, some people do.” Yes, sometimes I sit here thinking, “I’m better than this. I can do bigger and brighter things than fold laundry.
Sure, folding laundry and creating a clean environment facilitates proper development of my children and helps them to thrive, even. But it’s indirect. That’s what bugs me. I have to make all these leaps of logic just to get there. It feels like a waste of my abilities.
It’s especially frustrating because I never had a chance to pursue my interests with the luxury of time only a single or at least childless person has. It’s like a persistent itch I can’t scratch for 5-15 years.
Tara — really? When you were in high school, the reason you took AP classes was so you could help your kids in high school? That’s great. When I was in high school, I was pretty sure I’d never find someone to marry, much less have kids with.
I’m quite often sure that I’m unambitious — because, really, if I were ambitious, wouldn’t I find the time or have the drive do something besides read those rubbishy novels?
I wasn’t really trying to make the case that I’m smarter than Dick (or anyone else). My point (poorly made, perhaps) was that someone can choose to mop kitchen floors and STILL be a stimulating companion. Though isn’t that rather unfeminist itself? Why should I defend my fitness for being a companion, after all?
Sounds like we had pretty much the exact same kind of day yesterday. Thanks for this post.
I’m a little late to this party so I’ll try not to repeat or reinforce the previous comments.
Marriage and parenthood are, for the most part a partnership,(single parents excluded here – sorry). This means you are a team and each member must make choices for the betterment of the team. When my husband and I had kids we both worked in advertising; he as an associate creative director and me a senior project manager. We had exciting, creative and demanding jobs. Then we had kids. Suddenly life was stressful and frankly it wasn’t any fun. I began to resent my job, my husband, my kid. I HATED what I had a become – a woman who was spread too thin and failing at all aspects of her life. None of these things made me stupid. I was smart enough to realize that our team was beginning to rip at the seams and something had to change. I chose to quit my demanding career. My husband has since risen in the professional ranks to Creative Director and will openly admit that he could not have achieved that without my unflinching support AT HOME. I now work part-time as a teacher. I make 1/16 of what I was making before in salary, but I’m only gone 15 hours a week. Our team is successful. I’m happy. Nobody is stressed beyond recognition and we have a home life that is balanced, loving, and supportive.
These choices don’t make me stupid – they make me self-aware. It is because of smart women like me and you that these choices even exist. I don’t expect EVERYBODY to make the same decision I made but I also don’t expect (or accept) criticism. As women we are compelled to judge each other – we spew our righteous indignation on everything from marriage, to weddings, to babies, to breasts, to clothes, to careers, to husbands, to purses. It’s disgusting and frankly the most embarrasing characteristic of our sex. The only women whom I don’t respect are those who feel obliged to scream from the roof tops that they are right and I am wrong. It smacks of insecurity and ignorance.
Let me quote Elizabeth Bennet from “Pride and Prejudice”; “I am no longer surprised at you knowing only six accomplished women; I now wonder at you knowing any.” Must we all work, raise kids, be at home, sing, sew, speak several languages, play an instrument, do crafts, serve on the PTA and visit the poor in order to be considered successful women? I say no.
I blog love you.
You are so REAL, and honest. And your last two posts are spot-on. I am THE worst gift-giver. I am horrible at remembering birthdays, let alone dealing with thinking up good gifts.
Also, I love intellectual stimulation, and will keep refreshing my email or internet browser to see if something new pops up–or if someone has seen and commented on my blog!!! (So I think you’re also spot on about dying to see comments to validate that your writing is worthy of comments). Of course, that could also have to do with my ADD…. But then again, I am also procrastinating updating all my Webelos’ cub scout books and excel files (I have three boys earning their Arrow of Light by April, and our Blue and Gold is next week)….
To blog love. What’s the quote, “Great minds think alike”? Ignore the second half of the quote, of course–”Fools never differ.” Bwaahaaahaa. : )
by the way, as for the derogatory articles that those men or women write, i’m convinced it is mostly to get a reaction and attention. isn’t that the easiest way to get famous? write about something that enrages a large portion of the population and you are set…
i dont pay much attention to derogatory writing. it is much harder and therefore more impressive to write something truly uplifting…
Wow, I agree with Cousin Sylwia there on both points.
Another thought just occurred to me after reading some of the comments on HerBadMother (thanks to your Twitter link Jane) – is it known in the US that in Britian and Aus pacifiers are called dummies? And there’s been discussion since some Spice Girl or someone had kids of “yummy mummies” (with their bugaboo or emmaljunga prams, coffee holder cups, SUVs, manicures, etc – I think. Don’t think I ever made it into that club!. I think the title was playing on the “yummy mummy” term.
Dummy does also mean stupid person (ok, that’s not my straight-from-the-dictionary definition), so the journalist or editor who chose the title may have been intentionally playing on the two meanings.
Kirsty — Good point on “dummy”; I think I have heard that before, but it wasn’t explicit in the Rachel Cooke article. There’s also the “mannequin” usage of the word, and all three (pacifier, stupid, mannequin) convey Cooke’s contempt for modern motherhood.
With the pacifier idea, if you think of a mother being soothed or silenced (on important issues) by something as juvenile as a pacifier (or motherhood), then it would work.
And for the mannequin, it’s like calling women Barbie/Stepford/sheep?
(Perhaps they thought no further than the play on “yummy mummy” but that’s insulting enough.)
I love learning about Aussie-isms and other former-British colonial-isms.
Oh, and anyone else who wants to read Her Bad Mother’s reaction to the Rachel Cooke article, here’s the link:
http://badladies.blogspot.com/2009/02/whos-dummy-mummy.html
(I haven’t read much of HRM’s other stuff, but she does a fantastic job of critiquing the Dummy Mummy article. I especially like her criticism of Linda Hirshmann-type “feminism.”)
I was raised by a single mother, a physician, who was and is UNSTOPPABLE. Between her and my godmother and the other women in the community, I’m pretty much awed by these strong women. I see no contradiction between SAHM and powerful, valuable person. I’m not sure why anyone would–but, like you, I get the feeling that many do.
It’s okay to justify yourself. Ideally we’d all be so strong in our senses of self and our faith that we wouldn’t need to, but let’s get real here. We’re human, and (as my priest reminded me recently) we’re works in progress. I still need friends’ help to convince myself I’m not being (w)itchy when I have a bad day and go on a snarky rant.
You’re okay, Jane, don’t worry. You’re an excellent writer, and you’ve got an infectious sense of humor. I wouldn’t be reading this blog if I didn’t gain something from it. I love hearing your funny stories, and I love getting to see snapshots of your family’s life in Christ.
Beth — Talking to that AP reporter about the Mad at Dad article — I just kept coming back to the idea that marriage is a partnership (or team, as you say). As long as your partner is willing to work on things and compromise so that you feel things are “fair” (which is subjective but important, to me, anyway, and not the same thing as “the same” or maybe even “equal”) then you can work through any problem. I can’t imagine my marriage working with any other person other than my husband. He’s not perfect, but he’s as invested in our team as I am.
And I like what you say about your choices proving that you are a smart, self-aware woman.
Kimberly — Thanks. I think you have the same comment anxieties I do.
Brigid — Just — wow. Thanks.
Wanna know how I just got to your blog? I clicked on your button.
I think the intellectual equals part is going to happen anyway: the numbers of men and women in school is fairly equal. If you grew up in earlier generations, when a college education was pretty rare (and not subsidized by grants/loans), there were probably tons of families that couldn’t afford to send all their children. And with education being used as a different kind of work training, more boys were educated then girls. This difference was probably more striking in generations where finishing secondary school wasn’t common.
But now, not only do the numbers of boys and girls match in most levels of schooling, the base education level has risen. Most people graduate HS, the literacy rate is high, there’s cheap and easy access to information via TV, free libraries and the internet. Plus, more people are getting their bachelor’s degree (it’s practically the new HS diploma.) And it’s seen more as “common education” than a direct link to a particular job (meaning, you can get a degree in a field and never work in it) so you’d expect a similar knowledge base, even among families that divide domestic/commercial work along gender lines.
So when most people are educated overall and there’s less of a gender based difference in formal schooling, it’s easier to make an “intellectual match” as part of the selection criteria.
I mean: make it part of the selection criteria, because it’s independent from what people do when they actually get married (regardless of if you work in the home or out of it, current generations have a close educational match.) The marriage age has gone up too (mid-20′s now) so people actually have time to pursue a higher education before marriage/childrearing.
What a great blog! I am wondering; however, if that floor ever got mopped?
This hit home for me hard. All my life I have wanted to be a “mother” but I couldn’t ever say that growing up. I always had to want to “be” something, a teacher, a nurse, etc. I am still working on achieving my goal of being a SAHM but I ahve come to terms with it now and don’t care what other people think. I don’t want a career, I want to stay at home and be amother and mop my floor. Does it mean that I CAN’T have a career or that I’m not capable of the inteligence it takes to be a woman in the work force? Of course not, it just means that I have a stronger (much stronger) desire to raise my children than raise my salary.