Killing time

I've got about an hour to spend before my newly refinished hardwood floors are dry enough for me to walk on. I walked about 4 miles today, half of it walking around NW 23rd, the other half here in Sellwood-Moreland. I now sit in my backyard while Yoshimi sleeps in her stroller. I think the outside noises along with my foot gently rocking her stroller will keep her asleep for a little while. I can only hope. Walking around my neighborhood was relaxing, although the weather is a bit warm. I wish I wore a t-shirt instead of a sweater. I had thought all the warm weather of the summer had ended, but it looks like summer has yet to breathe its last breath. Despite this moderate heat, I can tell autumn is in the air. The trees have started changing color. It's bittersweet, autumn in Portland, because on the one hand you have the beautiful changing colors of the leaves, and it looks like nature is having a big party. The air is crisp, brisky, and so clear one can see Mt. Hood, Mt. Rainier, Mt. Saint Helens, and Mt. Adams from the heights of Council Crest. On the other hand, autumn means that soon it will be rainy and cloudy for months, which can be a bit depressing. Still, I enjoy it very much.

I'm reading a book written by Faulkner Fox, Dispatches from a Not-So-Perfect Life: or How I Learned to Love the Man, House, and Child. I'm almost finished with it and I wonder how Faulkner will tie everything together. It's basically and introspective piece that delves into her loneliness and loss of self-identity emerging after she becomes a mother. She desperately wants to connect to other mothers about the woes of parenting, but at the same time she also resents the mothers who present themselves as perfect moms, always loving being a mother. She is angry at society, men, and even women for this impossible standard of selflessness that mothers are supposed to present to the world. She feels like if she complains, she'll be viewed as a bad mother. She also has a lot of guilt because she knows that she is lucky to be financially stable enough to be a work-at-home mother, but nevertheless she doesn't always want to have her life revolve around her children while her own identity disappears. She tries to figure out how a feminist, someone who always fought against traditional roles of man and woman, ended up being a stay at home mother, cleaning the house, doing the laundry, cooking the food, paying the bills, while her husband had a full-time job and was the main breadwinner of the family, and that when he came home from work Faulkner felt guilty about "burderning" him with childcare responsibilities so she ended up taking care of the kids most of the time. She resented Duncan, her husband, because before they had children they had agreed that parenting would be a "joint effort," that they would split the responsibilities 50/50. If you ask her husband, he'd say he puts in about 40%. Faulkner says her husband puts in about 30%. Either way, it's not the 50% they agreed on.

Because Duncan's job is something that can be viewed from the public, something he gets paid for, society views it as more important, so Duncan's needs should come first. A stay-at-home mom is near the bottom rung on the career-status ladder. It's physically demanding work, and physically demanding work is blue collar. Duncan teaches at a university. Mentally demanding work is white-collar.

Faulkner actually writes part time, but during her early years of motherhood she could hardly get any writing done without feeling guilty. Taking time away from her kids is selfish, she'd think to herself. But then she'd get resentful when she saw her husband doing things for himself with ease, things as simple as going for a run, while the burden of parenting automatically defaulted to her. She felt bad asking Duncan to watch the kids. She also wanted her husband to take the kids on his own initiative and not have to wait for Faulkner to ask him to be a parent.

I'm blathering on and on about this book. It's obvious I identify with it, but it doesn't make me happy knowing that what I feel isn't an isolated incident. It makes me upset that there are so many mothers that feel this way and yet we all still feel alone. Today I was at the park and in the swing next to us there was a mother and her baby. The mom looked tired, not very happy. I looked happy, but I was probably faking a good deal of it. It looked like she wanted to talk to me, but I really didn't feel like talking to her. She commented on Yoshimi and I just said, "Yeah." Other than being a parent, she didn't look like she had anything in common with me and didn't look like anyone I wanted to be friends with. And of course this is a very judgemental thing to think, but it's true.

At Book Babies, I was chatting with another mom about our weekend plans. I told her that I'm getting my hair done. She commented on how nice getting something as simple as a haircut is when you are a new mom. To have someone take care of you. I totally agreed. We went on to talk about donated blood and platelets and how getting stuck with a needle (or even two!) is a small price to pay for time away from the babe. It was nice to connect to a fellow mom like that. And we both didn't have to worry about looking like a bad parent or feeling guilty.