Mom Guilt Is A Feminist Issue

In the heat of this contentious 2016 election cycle, there was one sound bite that stuck with me more than some of the others. (Though to be fair, there was plenty in all that madness to remember.) It was the media crucifixion of Chelsea Clinton for not being present for her child’s first day of preschool drop off.

Apparently, according to some, a mother needing to work out of town and leaving her children in the capable hands of their father while she does so amounts to abandonment, neglect and a cold hearted lack of maternal instinct. It pegs her as a bad mother, or really, hardly a mother at all. What kind of mother puts work (or anything else) ahead of her precious children even for a single day!? How could she miss even a single life milestone like that!? That poor child! Can you imagine the emotional scarring? The therapy she will need one day to work through the damage that will be caused from having such an absentee mother?!

Yeah...reading nonsense like that gave me the same disgusted, exhausted and annoyed feeling it does for working moms everywhere. For every feminist, mother or not, who doesn’t have to think for more than a second to see that no one would EVER make statements like that about a man, these assertions are ludicrous and disgusting. For generations men have worked away from the home, often to the point of spending so little time with their children that they hardly know one another. Cat’s in the Cradle anyone? Yet in this modern era of a more equitable division of income earning, mothers are criticised for allowing their spouses to take a pull at the child care from time to time. We’ll just never mind the sentiments about daycare. (But seriously though, if one more sanctimommy mutters anything about preschool “raising” my kid for me, fur is gonna fly.)

But as I worked through my outrage and disgust at the double standard that Ms. Clinton is being held to, it hit me. I wonder how SHE feels about missing that drop off? Does it give her pangs of regret and sadness? Because I would, despite my firm convictions that the child is fine and Dad is a capable parent too, feel a little bummed about missing a first preschool drop off. And I had to ask myself, “why?” Why would I feel guilty to leave my child with his DAD for the first day of preschool while I was doing a job that I love, have worked hard for, puts food on our table, and sets a positive example to my son about the role of women in the home and workplace?

Is it really innate? Is the guilt and sadness because I went through the lengthy hormonal roller coaster and physical output of making him? Maybe. Probably at least a little. But really, I think it is deeply entrenched programming about what is expected of me as a mother. That mothers should be there to see and experience every last moment of their children’s lives. That we should nurture our children constantly. That good mothers miss nothing. In many ways it doesn’t matter how much I logically think it’s horse shit. The programming is in there and it is crazy hard to shake.

And if we have a hard time shaking the mom guilt in order to work, in order to help provide life necessities and a solid future for the very children we feel guilty for leaving, how much harder is it to leave for a purely self serving purpose. To plan and actually go on an adventure to recharge our batteries. It’s incredibly hard. When I’ve been working all day it can be tempting to skip that bike ride after work because dang it I miss my kid. I worry that I’m being selfish to take another chunk of time away from him just because I want to. Going for three or four days? Whew! He might just graduate college when I’m not looking!

But I go. I go on that ride after work. I take that weekend away. I take that time to be with myself, with my friends. To remember who I am, what makes me tick. To resonate with the universe. Because when I do that, I come back ready to reconnect with my son on a deeper level. To be fully present with him and focused on him. I don’t believe that children need some vast expanse of time in which they receive our half attention. I’m not sure it is building up HIS reserves to wander on my periphery as I distractedly try to get him to go do something else so I can think straight. When I have been buried in piles of life stuff and childcare too long, that’s exactly what happens. When I have properly cared for myself, I am refreshed and ready to give him my full attention. If kids benefit from their parents being present, I want to have the stamina to actually BE present. Mind, body, spirit.   

Let’s also not forget that when I’m out there taking care of myself, it isn’t like my son is stranded with the wolves. Me getting out of the way gives my husband the space to connect with our son too. To be fully at the wheel of parenting his child. To do their father son things without my interference. To decide to eat broccoli for dinner, or skip straight to the ice cream. By walking away placing full confidence in my child’s dad to care for him, I empower them both. It sends my husband the message that I trust him completely to Dad. That I know he is capable as a parent and doesn’t need my list of dos and don’ts while I’m gone. Dad is not a babysitter. He’s a parent. It sends my son the message that people other than me are capable of meeting his needs and that the entire world is a safe place, not just mom. When I return, I come home to two happy healthy men, who have grown closer and more understanding of one another. Then it’s my turn. I take on the parent cape to ensure my spouse gets time for himself too while our son and I focus on each other.

If you are a single parent with no family near, you too can step away sometimes. That’s what community is for. When I think about the villages of a traditional people, everyone pitched in to share the load of child rearing, and everyone got a break sometimes. We don’t have a village anymore, so we need to make one. FInd your tribe. Find mamas you love and trust who you can trade babysitting time with. Find an amazing sitter who your kids love and you trust like a sister. Then go without guilt. It will be good for you and your children.

No one criticizes a man for working, for taking a weeks long hunting trip, for doing whatever he needs to do to feel whole and happy. We don’t need to accept that criticism either. Especially from ourselves.

The next time you feel that twang of guilt for taking care of yourself, let’s examine where that comes from. Ask yourself if a man would feel guilty for the same thing. As we work to dismantle the patriarchy that holds women to a different standard than men, we must identify the programming in ourselves first. Because mom guilt is a feminist issue.     

(This post is part 4, or a 5 part series on removing the obstacles moms face to getting out for more adventure. See part 1, 2, 3, and 5)      

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Contentment is not Complacency

Gratitude is a crucial practice for lifelong happiness and health. We can have all of the comforts and luxuries that this world can offer and still be miserable. We all intellectually know this, most of us have worked on this. We've written in gratitude journals, practiced gratitude meditations, and posted inspirational gratitude memes on social media. 

But today I want you to lean into the discontent. To remember that it is ok to experience that deep scratching sensation your soul. To feel it fully and let it inform you. Let it drive you and give you wings.
 

I don’t know if it is a hopelessness that has taken hold of us all through the struggles of the Great Recession, a proliferation of self help mania, the instagram perfection we perceive of everyone else's lives, or something else entirely. But I see a disturbing trend towards a “cult of positivity” in our culture. This notion that you are never allowed to feel anything other than happy, grateful and joyous at every moment of every day is increasingly pervasive. And it really, really bothers me.

This attitude feels especially pointed in the “mom blogosphere”. Posts that go something like “Sure I used to have a fulfilling career as a PHD in (insert intellectually stimulating field here), and I climbed mountains, ran marathons, and was a member of the board of several children’s hospitals before having children. Sure I miss those things a little but really I’m SOOO HAPPY now drowning under a mountain of dirty diapers and piles of dishes because GRATITUDE!! #soblessed!” I can almost see the author, dead in the eyes, jumping up and down clapping her hands with a huge smile plastered on her face desperately trying to believe what she is saying, because it is really herself she needs to convince.

This pretty much sums up the feeling of pretending you are ok when you really are not. (side note: This was floating around social media as I was writing this post. I can't seem to track down the originator of the meme, but it is freaking perfect. If anyone knows who created this please tell me so I can credit them.)

The promotion of the “good vibes only at all times” mentality of motherhood is killing us. It is one of the misguided attitudes that leads us to ignore symptoms of postpartum depression, and trivialize the very intense reality of the hosts of challenges that moms face every day. It leads to burnout, resentment, and opportunities lost. “What do you MEAN you are not deliriously happy at every moment of every day! You have a wonderful family! You should never feel anything but wonderful ALWAYS!”

When I was in the depths of PPD, this was one of the scripts that played in my head all the time. “I have a lovely home, a supportive and unbelievably long suffering husband, running hot and cold water, a beautiful and healthy child...There must be something wrong with my character. Clearly I’m just not grateful enough. Maybe I need to gratitude harder. #firstworldproblems.” This mentality kept me stuck for way too long. Even if PPD or other mental illness isn’t the issue, you are not required to find complete and ultimate fulfillment exclusively through parenting and housekeeping. (On the flip side, you are also not required to love an adore a job that pulls you away from your kids more hours a day than you would like. Especially if it sucks on the whole.)

Discontent is at the root of all great things that have ever been done. It is that which whispers “you can do better, there is another way’. Every inventor, author, and thinker in the world has felt this and heeded the call. Yes, figure out how to have gratitude for that fact that dirty dishes means you had food to eat, and that your screaming toddler means your child is alive and well. That perspective is necessary and important. And, you have permission to also feel your discontent when it arrives. To ask yourself the small still question “What do I need to do, even in some small way, to begin to feel the way I want to feel?” You CAN develop your contentment without giving into complacency.

So the next time you feel that scratching sensation, settle in and listen to it. Feel it. And ask yourself “What can I do today, this week, or this month, to begin to shift this feeling. How is it I want to feel, and how can I get there within the parameters of my life as it is right now?” When you formulate an answer, I’d love to hear from you if you are willing to share. Leave a comment and let me know. What are you going to do to respond to your discontent?  

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Southern Colorado with a Toddler Part 2

Tag teaming is an essential part of co-parenting for my husband and I. We both have things we need to do to fill our souls that are impractical to bring the Little Bear along for.

Mountain biking is arguably how my husband and I met, and as you can imagine, it is one of those things we both need to to do from time to time to feel like a functional human (or at least a polite one).

On beta from a good friend, we planned to take turns for the next two days of our trip riding the Hermosa Creek Trail, with the non-riding adult picking the rider up at the bottom of the trail. For any friends or readers who are fellow mountain bikers, especially those from Flagstaff, you might have an ethic one way or another about shuttling trails. Shuttling is where a rider is dropped off at the top of a trail and rides (usually downhill) to the other end where the car is waiting for them, preferably with a cold beverage at the ready. In Flagstaff, we never shuttle. Ever. Even driving to the trailhead better have a good reason. From most of our town you can ride straight from your home to connect with a vast network of trails, most of which have decently thought out alignment minimizing erosion and unrideable grades. So there is little reason to use a vehicle to get you up the hill only to ride back down it. Just pedal! Use the quads yo mama gave you son!    

So many spots along this trail demand that you stop to appreciate the beauty, and tempt you to want to jump in. 

In my younger childless days, I first rode in Colorado bringing my “never shuttle” Flagstaff ethic along like so many rocks in my panniers. After a number of frustrating bike hikes and crossing too many potential rides off the list because they were impractical to self shuttle, I have learned better and become a lot less smug. Folks, Colorado is not Flagstaff. Nearly every trail I have ever ridden there is steep to the point of stupid, has long and brutal road sections between trails making the self shuttle impractical or impossible. Hermosa Creek was no exception. Self shuttling would have meant almost 50 miles of riding, only 18 of which would have been the trail in question and the majority of the remaining miles on shoulderless mountain highway. No. Thank. You. If you are still worried about shuttling because it is important to you to “earn” your downhill, don’t fret. Even “downhill” trails have climbing in Colorado. Hermosa creek spends most of the last 6 miles in a 1600 vertical foot climb.

Does this mud splashed face look like it cares about shuttling anymore? Nope. 

This letting go of perfectionism has been a huge and excruciating lesson for me in motherhood. There was a time, younger, fitter and faster that I would perhaps have insisted on a self shuttle. I would have spent an entire day from dawn til dusk killing myself to do the whole thing without a car shuttle, because it’s the “right” way to do it and to compromise would have bruised my ego. If I had been unwilling to just shuttle this trail I would missed 18 miles of some of the most sublime, inspiring single track in the Four Corners area. Want to keep your own passions, hobbies and adventures a priority in parenthood? Let go of perfection and get it done. Take the one hour ride you can get instead of the 6 hour ride that is rarely available. Host that imperfect dinner party with chinese take out, instead of waiting for enough time to have a spotless house and gourmet four course meal. Buy the ticket to travel to the place you CAN afford instead of waiting around for a windfall to go to the place that is financially out of reach. In the end, it will be the things we consistently do that make up the story of our lives. If we never get out there because we need the conditions to mimic some preconceived notion of perfection, years will pass and we will have failed to spend our time the way we wanted to. We will continue to mutter some mantra about a fictitious “someday” that isn’t coming.   

My steed, a top one of the many bridges along Hermosa Creek. Surface water is a huge treat for us dry country folks. 

What a spectacular payoff it is to just get out there and do it! The first half of Hermosa Creek trail follows a wide and welcoming path along, unsurprisingly, Hermosa Creek. Mixed conifers, flowing stream, and gorgeous water holes hiding fish that tease local anglers to come and get em. This first half, though trending downhill, isn’t particularly steep, and would make a very reasonable out and back ride or hike for those not wanting to do the whole length or who are just getting started and want a ride with minimal technical challenges. The trail changes to single track where it continues to follow the creek for another third of the ride, though it frequently winds a little further up the hillside than in the previous section. The high moisture level of the area in general, mixed with some heavy rains in the previous days made the ride fairly slick and felt a bit like riding on a muddy slip and slide. After one of a number of creek crossings, the last one with a wooden bridge, the trail begins the final climb in earnest. It winds its way up to a bench dotted with scrub oak, ponderosa pine, and cedar. A amusing concoction of species frequently found in Flagstaff, but rarely seen together at the same altitude. Having gotten a later start than I had hoped, I hit the steep climbs just as the afternoon rainstorms began. I attempted to pedal up what had become a creek in its own right. The water and mud made traction non-existent, making the attempt to move forward a real life replica of those dreams in which you are running as hard as you can and not getting anywhere. I eventually had to get off and push the bike up through the pouring rain, smiling all the way. Eventually the rain cleared, and I made the final descent to the trailhead to meet my ride. I was inspired, full of dopamine, and satisfied.

It got a little rainy out there! 

Each evening after our rides, Iorek was full of energy and ready to ride himself. Pre-dinner evening strolls for us and bike ride for the Little Bear became a lovely part of the day. It is satisfying to the soul to have the opportunity to not only pursue my own passions, but to share them with my son and watch him get so much joy out of it too.

The kid loves to ride! Does a mamas heart good.

Is waiting for perfect conditions keeping you from doing the things that would feed your soul and nourish your spirit? I would love to hear what you want to do, and how you think you can get out of your own way to do it. Leave me a comment and let me know.

Of an evening. 

One more installation in the series coming next week! 

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