The Guilty Mommy Effect

I'm a firm believer that every mom has it to some degree. And, to be fair, I suppose I'm coming from one perspective. Be that culture, society, politics, or what have you. But. I'm pretty sure that no one knows how to be a mom or prepare to be a mom without actually doing it. There are the books, the advise (always the advise), the traditions, the internet (the worst of the worst), social media, and whatever is out there that tells you how motherhood is or is not.

And that, I believe, is where there is guilt. That self conscious doubt that you will somehow do something incredible wrong that will doom your child into a life of crime, failures, broken mental capacity, onward and so forth.

I know I have it. The Guilty Mommy Effect. When I drop my daughter off at day care and she clings to my neck like she is never going to see me again, I feel like the complete jerk. Prying her off of me, giving words of encouragement as I back away from her outstretched arms and pleading, teary eyes, to leave the building like no biggy just another lovely morning. I close the door to the car and I feel it in my gut.

I usually ignore it. It's just a bad morning. I know she'll be fine and when I go to pick her up I'll get the Mommmmmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaa! from across the room as she books it to me to give me the biggest hug she is capable of expressing. She won't think of me any less, doesn't wallow in the corner like a condemned prisoner sent to solitary confinement with only bread and water and one window to gaze out of and dream of better days when mom didn't have to go to work.

And then there are days that it goes bad and the guilt just seeps in. As I make the 10 minute drive down the road to work, I just keep hearing it in my head: worst mom ever. Worst. Mom. Ever....It is depressing and horrible and I was getting teary eyed just remembering some of these drives. Cause it sucks. It's fine and she's fine and sometimes lessons are hard, but man. It just sucks.

But. I feel like it is part of every moms life. The women I know, and the other mothers I know, they all have these self doubts. These moments where we feel like the absolute worst and that we are failing somehow in this imaginary standard of what a mother should be and be capable of. It's imaginary and it's uncalled for, but us ladies, man....we can be the best at making the worst out of any scenario. It's what makes us female. We connect our actions with our world around us. Males, they are object oriented, leader of the pack, alpha dudes. Females, we try to get everyone happy, keep the fair game going, and make sure everyone feels included. So. Add in being a mom on top of that. The perfect storm. Hormones+(doubts/fears)+(advice/internet)=The imagined ability to do something wrong. Guilt. Guilt for trying your best. Guilt for kids not acting a certain way, for not knowing the answer, for struggling to believe in yourself and to trust your own abilities.

So I guess this post is to address that moment when it pops up in my head. It's normal to feel guilty. It's normal to wonder if you are doing the right thing or maybe so and so on your newsfeed really does have it better with the best children and home life. You know what, good for her. Good for all them. But, at the end of the day, I still get a happy look of love and safety from the only one that should give a crap about how I mother. Will that make the bad days go away, no. Cause come on, not a superwoman over here. But. A personal reminder to myself. Don't nag yourself over being guilty when it's all about a preconceived notion of what a good mother is, because my best is the very best for my littlest munchkins.

Apologies over the sorta rambling that is this post. Hopefully I made some sense and didn't over generalize too much on men and women characteristics. The end.

Divide and Conquer

Also, a subtitle: "How I Keep House All While Maintaining My Sanity."

So, I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the best clean freak. My threshold of too much clutter is pretty high. I'm not a slob, but I just am ok with letting the little things slide. Home maker is a full time job, with being cook, maid, maintenance, construction, designer, and mother. How's a girl to survive having a decent home with basic chores done when the time is already taken up with a full time job?

For a while I would have my Saturdays be the cleaning day. Bathrooms, kitchen, vacuuming, grocery shopping, laundry, etc. etc. etc. Which, as the years went on sucked more and more and I ended up getting less and less done on the Saturdays cause come on! It sucks! Cleaning sucks. And I'm too tired. And annoyed after maybe four hours of cleaning and back to back loads of laundry.

And so, as a solution, I do a little bit each day. I don't know where I got it from or when that clicked per se, but oh man! Makes for a much better down weekend where I can relax and recharge. I call it the Divide and the Conquer.

Divide

Each day, when I get home from work, I do one or two chores. And then I'm done. That's it. Whhaaaaaaa? But, but, how?

Easy. Here's my breakdown, with my reasoning and little helpful reminders.

Monday-Toilets (cause that's what Mondays are for, duh) and Mei's laundry (Mei Monday, get it?)

Tuesday- Towels/sheets (these switch every other week with each other, depending on need). Trash (Wednesday is trash day, so get all the trash cans emptied and tossed). Also kitty litter (any day that has a T...for turd...means do the kitty litter).

Wednesday- Whites for laundry. Trash day. Vacuum day.

Thursday- Colors for laundry. Kitty Poo Duty.

Friday- Free day cause that's what Friday's are for! Sorta. I try to get my grocery list made up on this day. Or, use this day to catch up on a day that I might have failed to complete....

Saturday- Showers and grocery shopping. Cat Crap Duty.

That's it. I do dishes at the end of each day and try to sweep at the end of each day. The end. Chores check and check.

I found it amazing how much I could clean in only half hour to an hour and a half increments in the evenings. It's a little multi tasking at it's most beautiful form and a beautiful little tower of cleaning foundations. I will on a so often Saturday deep clean something in need of some major care...fridge, oven, dusting, the details. But when I don't have mountains of laundry or cat shi shi reeking the whole floor, I can do the details without too much worry and care. Done and done.

Conquer

Theoretically by the end of Saturday, everything has been managed successfully. My Saturday is no longer a day of cramming a week worth of chores into a day. It helps me to keep organized and in control of what I am capable of doing. It is away for me to eat the elephant, or the frog...whatever that saying is. I can keep a handle on the chores and then come Saturday, I can do what I want, practically guilt free.

Am I perfect? Clear and definite NO. Cause sometimes I'm tired and then I end up doing my towels and sheets on a Saturday. Or things come up and sometimes things get rearranged. For example, I don't remember the last time I vacuumed the upstairs. The horror! But. I don't feel too bad about it, cause I'll try again the next week. I'm still working on better habits and for the love, no one is perfect.

I divide the week up into little bitable parts and I am feeling much better come Saturday. For the most part. Cause let's be honest, there's more to a house than just chores. Ask me if I unpacked my books after the almost four months since our move....But at least I've got clean clothes. It's the little things.

Oh, I'm sorry, you're having a baby?

Pregnancy and Birth in the work field, in my experience, are deemed as not an experience but a procedure and disability. The dreaded FMLA. The Family and Medical Leave Act was established to protect your job for up to twelve weeks due to birth/adoption and health issues. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful that I get benefits and that I can have my job reserved, but the lingo drives me nuts. To label it like it was an accident, or that it wasn't my choice? Oh, I'm sorry, you're having a baby? We will hold onto your job till you're done.

Thank you?

I read this story, of a worst nightmare and one that hits me right in the gut. The woman explains that she had to return to her work in order to keep her job/benefits/income. She did her research, found a daycare, and even had a plan on how she would divide her time between work and going to the daycare for feedings and spending time with her child. But, within the first couple hours of placing her baby in daycare, he passed away, due to undetermined reasons.

Would it had happened at home? Who knows. Would she had been able to save her child if she was still caring for the baby? Maybe. All the what ifs, the if onlys...

What I really like about her little note isn't that she is trying to blame day care workers, or her company, or anyone in particular. She laments, and I cry with her:

"Why, why does a parent in this country have to sacrifice her job, her ability to provide her child with proper health care —- or for many worse off than me, enough food to eat — to buy just a few more months to nurture a child past the point of vulnerability?"

I like to work. I do. I like to think I'm a pretty good worker. And the work place has been opened up to a lot of women. What is it? Almost half of the work force is women? We are still working on different parts, income, positions, attitudes, and whatever you can think of. One thing though that stands out to me is this idea that a mom needs so many set amount of weeks given in order to recuperate and connect with their newborn. Who are you to say how long I need? The magic number of 12 weeks? Where the bleep does that come from? What if you're not ready? What if you want just another month? A year?

Every mother/infant relationship is unique. I'm not saying that I'd want a year off or that I want only two weeks off. My experience was awesome and one that I wish I could repeat. I had spent almost four years with my job (and accumulated a massive block of sick/personal leave, it was beautiful), but when my leave was up, I was able to work part time at home and part time in the office with the evening shift. So, I had to only do day care for about nine hours total a week, just two hours a day, except for Fridays, which I believe I had the whole day at home. It. Was. Perfect. Perfect for me. I went through the anxieties though, dropping of my little one to someone else's care. We were paying an arm and a leg for the nine hours, but goodness, it was worth the extra little bit. I would go through all the worries. Would they comfort her? Help her? Know the tricks and tips? What if something happened? What if a meteor came down and took out the city, would I be able to cross the half a dozen blocks to find her? The horror!

I was lucky though, and it worked out great. Most of my fears are calmed now, at least, I like to think that there will not be a meteor that will strike us down. But, there are days that I'm driving to work, with little one in the back, and I think, does she know what I ask of her? Am I making her miss out on something?

And then what if there is a second one? Another baby? I won't have all the years worth of leave or the ability to work split shifts. Would I be able to give my newborn, three month old, over to someone else for full days? Three months old! Three. They're barely blooming and then they'll be interacting with someone else. Could I have six months? How about nine? No. Just twelve weeks. Sigh.

Is there a better way? Yes, there has to be. But, I work in a society here in America, that is go go go go work culture. There is little sympathy for a working mother, and if there is, it would be weak, an exception, or an impossibility. For example, I've had it happen to me at least three times here, but when I explain I have a child, the first question I get is, "Oh, who takes care of the baby?" or "Oh, who stays with the baby?" Let me ask you something, do you ask a father that? If you are a dude and your working along, dudidudidu, and someone finds out that you are a father or have a child, are you asked who takes care of the child? No, cause you assume the mom is, of course. My position as an employee and a mother therefore are a contradiction, at least that's what I feel like when I have to explain myself, when you ask that kind of question. I have to rationalize it to you. I have to prove to you that I'm still being a good mom.

They don't ask to be mean, I know that. It's an innocent enough question. But just shows how much of our culture is set in this idea that a woman needs to stay at the home when there are little ones. What I would give to spend the working week with my little one. But, that is not really an option for me. I live in a place where I need to work. And I need to have a day care help me. It can be a bit of a vicious, emotional cycle. I feel like I have to work, but society says that I shouldn't. But that I should and put in the hours to prove my worth. But that I should question why I should even be there. And then question my sanity or my skills as a mom, a worker, or a woman. Constant cycles.

I'll have to start a running list of "Things You Shouldn't Say to a Working Mother." Number 1: Who's taking care of the baby?

November side step...

For the last month, November, I have been trying to complete 50,000 word story for the NaNoWriMo. Not only did I put aside this blog, but I also did very little else. I did it, whooooo! but man, it was not fun at the end.

So, I will be now focusing again on this little dude. I've been thinking of topics and discussions all whilst battling 50,000 words and I am excited to get started.

Much love.

Pay Check Mom

I had this idea. Writing. It's something that I love. Am I amazing at it? Skilled? Really? I'm laughing at myself, like out loud. Literally. Like, Seriously?

Where others can think on their feet, pun, and have a quick whit, I commend and am super jealous. Seriously.

Me, I do my thinking internally, the inner monologue sort of thing where I can mull it over. Play with it, think, think, and over think. And, I can write it out. Which, I know, results in it sounding a bit...conversationy. Which is a style, right? Should be.

So, back to my idea. Writing. I have this idea that one day I will write and people will love it and I will be forever remembered as a writer.

And then life.

Always the life.

Which is a nice excuse. I'm busy. I've done the school thing, I've done the wifey thing, the mommy thing, the moving thing, and the working thing. I'd really have it no other way. I'm content with my life and it has been an amazing ride that I truly do enjoy.

But writing has taken the back stage, back corner really. Behind my priorities and tucked right beneath my insecurities.

And there it glares at me, to rear its raw and unflattering head from time to time. Where I am forced to try. Try again, try it, try again. It pleads with me. It's like, a fish. Who's got nubs for legs. And can see all the other fishes going on, growing those legs, developing them, running, falling, all joy and happiness. But, it just sits right there, at the edge of the water. Nice, comfy, safe water. You get my drift right? It's cliche and everyone has that moment, right at the waters edge. So, I won't finish that story.

But. It is my story. I don't mean to sound like it's all a check list either. I really like to think I can find moments to enjoy the moments, the state of being. But, it's my personality? Maybe that's not the right word. It's how I best judge my goals I guess. I ramble. I'll bookshelf that discussion.

Moving on.

So what's the whole point? Well. That idea. That idea of writing. I decided for it to become a solution. Or at least, an outlet. Finally, a good hold! The other day, I felt all these life events and goals that I juggle crash to the floor. I'm a mom to a 2 1/2 year old. A wife, going on almost 10 years. And, I work full time as a secretary to a university department. Those are just my jobs. I also have the regular life stuff that needs to happen in order to function as a civilized human. Laundry, for one. Eating. Bills. Family. Social life, etc etc etc. All the things that make up a day.

And I sat in my shower and just cried. Because I can usually do all of it. I can do the working, and the mommy, and the wifey and the lifey but for whatever reason (I do blame partial responsibility on the full moon, but can't break what's not cracked already, right?) I just saw this doom pit of gloom where I was just tired. And I felt completely failed as I saw each of my balls of events go right into that pit and crash. So, in the shower, I wallowed in my pity with my imaginary invisible juggle balls, invisibly smashed all around me.

I didn't like that feeling.

I want to also footnote a bit here about the dangers of comparing and the perfect-life-that-is-so-unattainable-you-make-me-vomit idea. Again, bookshelf that one.

No one likes that feeling. It's a depression. And a stress. And frankly, it's not healthy.

And then the next morning, light bulb.

Epiphany.

Answer to prayers/pleas/promise.

Why not write about it. The scary B word...the Blog.

This dead old depreciated thing that I have given up and killed like...five times. Oh, look, I checked...that would be a gentleman's six.

But write what? One thing, and then kill it dead?

The working mom. The Pay Check Mom, if you will. Cause I don't really consider myself a working mom, that sounds like business suits and executive and out to change the world one report at a time. No. I'm just the pay check mom. Because sometimes life means you have to earn a pay check. I'm not out for a career, not out to change the workforce with some kind of feminist fire to burn. Nope nope. Just have the bills to worry about. But I want to still be a mom, and still want to be a wife, a sister, a friend, a coworker, and just be Britni.

Does that make me an expert? No. I'm sure a working mom that went out for a career and working field would eat me alive. But, I'm a firm believer that everyone's experience is different, even with the same events that occur on two different women.

It does provide me with an experience though, that maybe some other working mom could use. And in turn, maybe they can share with me. Because that's what women do and that's how we grow strong. Connections.

And so, this idea. This blog. To help me share my experience as a Pay Check Mom. I can write. I can work. And I can find a way to maybe make a life out of it, or at least be remembered for it. I'm not asking for a movie or a reality star moment. But just a place to talk about the multiple worlds that is a woman's life. It will be an outlet for frustrating days or nights when crying in the shower (a real must sometimes, I might add. Not ashamed of that, nope nope) seem like the only thing you can be successful at.

One step at a…one step at a….one step at a time.

So, the title comes from a song I sang in elementary school, for some play or something. I can’t really remember much other than that one line. Must have blocked it out. In any case, it’s been a few, of course. But, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. Because today is a new day and tomorrow will be even fresher. So, moving on…

I’ve decided, and through much frustration, I can’t change everything in a matter of days. I want to be a “full time working but also can at least keep the house clean” type of gal. Impossible? Yeah, I think so too. But I wanted to at least do the most I can and feel like at the end of the day I did a little of both in those two worlds. As I tried to dive right in, I usually found my self doing the tug of war with just me and my onsey. Which just ends up with me lying in bed absolutely loathing myself for not getting up and doing something. I am lazy. I realize that and want to change it. I know, I know, I’ve heard it before “But you work full time and you need to relax”. But, I can’t relax when there are things to be done, dishes to be cleaned, showers that are getting the orange mold that I’ve only seen here in Arizona, carpet so embedded with kitty litter that I feel I’m walking around at the beach, cat hair that has now turned our love sac into a massive fur ball, a fridge filled with week old meals and now has a funny smell when opened, and so on and so forth. I’ve got work out a balance. A one step at a time deal, if you will.

So, this week’s goal is to make a chores list. There are some things that need to be done daily, obviously, and then there are some things that need to be done once a week, and then there are those that can be done every other week or so. I’ll give myself till Tuesday night to figure out the list and then Wednesday to post it. That way, I have to get it done? Right? RIGHT?!

Right.

Le Sigh

I don’t really want to figure out how long its been since the last posting. I guess I just don’t really know what to put on this little sucker. I like reading other’s blogs and I like to look at other people’s lives. Heck, I even just like to look at others pictures. But, either I really don’t have the capacity to sit down and update this on a regular basis, or I haven’t figured out what other’s would find at all interesting to talk about. I work, go to school, and then repeat. Find sleep in there somewhere. I really don’t want this to be a journal entry either, just cause it’s private and the internet is huge and vast and a lot of who cares anyways. And frankly I get embarrassed easily, soooo the end.

But, from recent events in my life, I have come to realize that I lack a voice. I’m far too easy going. I don’t like to cause problems and don’t make an opinion about anything. Instead, I keep it in my head and let life drift me to wherever it will.

Maybe I can find a use for this then to get out of my comfort zone and contribute to this life I call today. So, I’ll create a list. A “Things I Want To Do But Don’t Because Of Whatever Odd Reason” list. And then I’ll try to complete it. A goals list of stuff that I want to change and work on.

Prepare yourself for domestication, Ms Britni. You’re not a college student anymore living from one test to the next. Responsibilities include a Husband, two cats, and family/friends who deserve a great friend in return.

I don’t expect a complete 180, or that I’ll like what I try. I understand that I’m not a crafty person or that I don’t have a lot of cute “Mormon Mommy” projects. Cause frankly, I have no clue how the heck they come up with that stuff….But, I do want to try. And I do have the desire to potentially be the best that I can be. A guess you’d call it a hobby search. And a try at domestication, my worst enemy.

Next step….a list….which shall be great….and glorious….and probably something that I’ll just have to keep on adding to as well…