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Finding that happy medium
Apparently, I'm finding less and less motivation to post on a regular basis. What is there to say? The kids continue much as usual, Emma loving kindergarten and dazzling everyone with her intellect; Ryan chattering non-stop so I hardly remember he used to be stuck on one-word sentences; Luke...being Luke. I still have my thrilling part-time job at the grocery store, and my husband is still teaching in a district that has no respect for their teachers...or their students, really (so who's getting the respect, anyway?). There's not too many remarkable highs, and I'm trying to restrain myself from only posting the lows - tends to make my journal a series of depressing rants, you know?
Plus, there's Facebook, which is probably about as evil as the detractors say it is, but the fact remains that it's a handy way to connect with just about everyone except the detractors. ;) So what can I do here? I've been thinking perhaps I should choose some sort of topic to wax eloquent on every once in a while - I already have a few in mind. As long as they don't turn into rambling rants, thus returning to the depressing, it should be productive, right?
My thoughts today come from the very fact that I can't seem to figure out what to write about, as well as two separate articles I've read recently. One involved the author confessing her bizarre obsession with reading "Mormon mommy blogs;" the other encouraged "less than perfect moms" to unite and embrace their less-than-perfectness.
Well, I have a confession too. I really hate reading Mormon mommy blogs. And here I am, a Mormon mommy. It's not too hard to figure out why - they make me feel inadequate. Because they paint such a fluffy pink picture of motherhood, which is so far from my reality. And I'm sure they're sanitized, leaving out the less than ideal aspects, or at least not dwelling on them negatively. But these mothers seem to find such giddy joy in things like dressing their kids (or themselves) in cutesy outfits, decorating their houses so they look like catalogs (mine would only qualify if there were such a catalog as Clutter and Cobwebs Monthly), and gushing about every little perfect thing their children do and say, and how much they adore being a mommy. Gag.
This gag reflex, of course, leads to the guilty feeling that I ought to be more positive myself, and perhaps put a little more effort into making my home all cozy and comfy and taking perpetual delight in my children....I don't know. Where do I find the line between realism and optimism? And how do I tell the difference between realism and cynicism on the one hand, and optimism and delusion/dishonesty on the other hand?
So it was refreshing, in a way, to read the second article. The author acknowledged how much she loves her children and being a mother and such, then confessed that they often drive her crazy, that parenting is hard. She actually set up an anonymous parent confessional so people could admit their shortcomings, their frustrations and such without feeling judged. I especially appreciate that one of the confessions came from the parent of an autistic child. Because if anything can shatter the happy illusions of perpetually blissful parenthood, it's having a child who doesn't speak, doesn't make regular eye contact, and routinely behaves like an alien. A commenter on the article also mentioned autism, that her in-laws are shocked when she says she hates autism. Not her autistic child, of course not! But autism, yes. I needed to read that.
It's a conundrum. Parenthood is the best thing in my life. It is also the most demanding, the most exhausting, and sometimes the most depressing. How do I express my frustrations without bringing everyone down? How can I be positive while still being honest? Let's not leave out the fact that I've always been something of a sarcastic, snarky person. I can only take so much sentimentality before, well, the gag reflex sets in. And I think that wry sense of humor helps a lot, to be honest. I've certainly amused my loyal Facebook readers (ha) with some of my statuses about my children - showing my affection for them with a strong dose of snark. The fact is, I'm also very emotional, prone to cry at the slightest trigger. I guess the sarcasm comes as a way to balance that? It's all about balance. When I've achieved perfect balance, I'll let you know.
(That was some of my trademark sarcasm, by the way.)
Plus, there's Facebook, which is probably about as evil as the detractors say it is, but the fact remains that it's a handy way to connect with just about everyone except the detractors. ;) So what can I do here? I've been thinking perhaps I should choose some sort of topic to wax eloquent on every once in a while - I already have a few in mind. As long as they don't turn into rambling rants, thus returning to the depressing, it should be productive, right?
My thoughts today come from the very fact that I can't seem to figure out what to write about, as well as two separate articles I've read recently. One involved the author confessing her bizarre obsession with reading "Mormon mommy blogs;" the other encouraged "less than perfect moms" to unite and embrace their less-than-perfectness.
Well, I have a confession too. I really hate reading Mormon mommy blogs. And here I am, a Mormon mommy. It's not too hard to figure out why - they make me feel inadequate. Because they paint such a fluffy pink picture of motherhood, which is so far from my reality. And I'm sure they're sanitized, leaving out the less than ideal aspects, or at least not dwelling on them negatively. But these mothers seem to find such giddy joy in things like dressing their kids (or themselves) in cutesy outfits, decorating their houses so they look like catalogs (mine would only qualify if there were such a catalog as Clutter and Cobwebs Monthly), and gushing about every little perfect thing their children do and say, and how much they adore being a mommy. Gag.
This gag reflex, of course, leads to the guilty feeling that I ought to be more positive myself, and perhaps put a little more effort into making my home all cozy and comfy and taking perpetual delight in my children....I don't know. Where do I find the line between realism and optimism? And how do I tell the difference between realism and cynicism on the one hand, and optimism and delusion/dishonesty on the other hand?
So it was refreshing, in a way, to read the second article. The author acknowledged how much she loves her children and being a mother and such, then confessed that they often drive her crazy, that parenting is hard. She actually set up an anonymous parent confessional so people could admit their shortcomings, their frustrations and such without feeling judged. I especially appreciate that one of the confessions came from the parent of an autistic child. Because if anything can shatter the happy illusions of perpetually blissful parenthood, it's having a child who doesn't speak, doesn't make regular eye contact, and routinely behaves like an alien. A commenter on the article also mentioned autism, that her in-laws are shocked when she says she hates autism. Not her autistic child, of course not! But autism, yes. I needed to read that.
It's a conundrum. Parenthood is the best thing in my life. It is also the most demanding, the most exhausting, and sometimes the most depressing. How do I express my frustrations without bringing everyone down? How can I be positive while still being honest? Let's not leave out the fact that I've always been something of a sarcastic, snarky person. I can only take so much sentimentality before, well, the gag reflex sets in. And I think that wry sense of humor helps a lot, to be honest. I've certainly amused my loyal Facebook readers (ha) with some of my statuses about my children - showing my affection for them with a strong dose of snark. The fact is, I'm also very emotional, prone to cry at the slightest trigger. I guess the sarcasm comes as a way to balance that? It's all about balance. When I've achieved perfect balance, I'll let you know.
(That was some of my trademark sarcasm, by the way.)
no subject
I also dislike Mormon Mommy blogs, but for reasons I can't put my finger on. Something about making the triviality of their everyday existence seem so fulfilling. Silly crafts? Is that the end of your existence? That's the best use of your mind and hands? Depressing.
no subject
no subject
I'd subscribe to your magazine as well - think of all the Halloween decorating options! We have a small, weirdly situated back room on our first floor which STILL has stuff from the move than needs to be sorted/recycled, and the playroom is pretty much a constant mess unless I *really* push them to pick it up all. the. time. I'd make a lousy Mommy Blog writer, because I ... don't do that. Once a week at best, or when someone is coming over to play. I take comfort in remembering that my room was usually a swirling eddy of books, clothes and random toys, and yet I somehow learned how to tidy up before I went to college!
no subject
The other thing that brings out the ugly green monster in me is the blogs of women I knew growing up. Believe me, they did not spend adolescence giddily preparing for motherhood. I was the one who was kid-crazy and would rather babysit than hang out with people my age. And now I see them taking such apparent delight in their mommy-ness, while I stew in bitterness because I still can't definitively convince myself that my son would choose me over a random stranger with a spinning toy.
...And that's why I can't do a mommy blog. It would be a very dark place.