The daily struggles of a sometimes SAHM
H is back at school today after the Thanksgiving break. Before he left, he got his first “report card.” I was handed an envelope with the words “To the parents of…” on the front and was definitely was not prepared for the rush of emotions upon opening it. Continue reading “Today I’m Struggling With…Report Cards”
As I sit here, writing this post, I’m eating Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles (should be a sponsor, but they aren’t) and peppermint bark, because isn’t that a classic and classy combination? I’m drinking water, but that’s only because I’m too lazy to make coffee and I don’t have any Cherry Coke in the house. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’m a mess.
To be fair, I know I’m not as messy as some people. I don’t do drugs. I drink, but I don’t get drunk (nursing, and all). I have a job. I’m actually pretty good at adulting. But at times, I’m pretty indistinguishable from the teenagers that I teach. My son is starting to get to the age where I worry about him adopting some of my bad habits and guilty pleasures.
Continue reading “Today I’m Struggling With…Passing On Bad Habits”
As part of my unit on Media Literacy that I teach to my high school students every year, I talk about gender representation and The Bechdel Test. For those of you that don’t know, there’s a detailed explanation of the test here, but essentially, a movie/tv show passes if:
Seems like a low bar, huh? Yeah, well a surprising number of films don’t pass. Continue reading “The Bechdel Test…For Moms”
I don’t like kids. There. I said it. I have never liked kids. I don’t even recall liking kids when I was a kid. I’m the youngest in my family. I never babysat. Until I had I had a child, I was never around babies for any extended amount of time.
To be clear: I love my kids. They are the bee’s knees. The cat’s pajamas. My world. But in no way does that obligate me to like other people’s kids, or as like to call them: OPP (Other People’s Progeny).
Now that I’m a mom, I feel like I am expected to gush over everyone else’s kids, to find them endlessly charming simply because I have one (or two) of my own. And that’s just not the case. My coworkers have kids. They’re fine. My sister’s friends have kids. Cool. H has preschool friends. Neat. The case just remains, if I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t like kids.
Continue reading “Today I’m Struggling With…Other People’s Kids”
Not to be dramatic, but this is probably the most important post I will ever write. It is, in my humble opinion, the most toxic mentality that reveals America’s inherent sexism and classism. It is the main reason why I get frustrated. It is the thing I warn women about before they are even pregnant — when they are deciding whether or not they even want to be a mother.
I recently saw a friend whom I hadn’t seen in many years. She used to be my best friend and roommate, but life and my bad habit of losing touch had allowed us to drift apart. In the years since we’ve last spoken, we both have gotten married, I’ve had two kids, and now she’s pregnant with her first. When I was in her area, we got together and had breakfast with my family. The night before I was so nervous, because I realized I had nothing to talk about except my kids. I had no idea what else her and I had in common anymore. I feared to ask her the same dull, asinine questions that everyone asks pregnant women.
“How are feeling?”
“Are you nervous?”
“Have you picked any names?”
I hated having to answer these over and over when I was pregnant, but now I hated that I couldn’t think of anything better to say.