Veronica has a brilliant post about judgment, making an essential distinction beeen judgment as condemnation and judgment as discernment. Becoming a grandma raises these questions all over again. Should a grandma ever be judgmental about her daughters' mothering, either face to face or on her blog? My oldest daughter Anne, 35, has a 15-month-old son Michael. My second daughter Michelle, 33, is expecting a girl at the end of August. My third daughter Rose, 29, is expecting a girl in early December. I live on Long Island; Anne lives in Manhattan, a 40-minute express -train ride away. Michelle lives in Boston, and Rose is moving from Chicago to Boston next month. (My youngest, Carolyn, 26, not yet married, lives in Boston as well.) From Long Island to Boston is about 4 hours by car, without heavy traffic. The bus is more affordable than the train. Air travel is just too much of a time-draining hassle when you are not in the air.
My grandma was only 47 when I was born; my mom was 51 when she became a grandma. I was turning 62 when Michael was born. My girls justly accuse me of being a hypocrite. They went beyond my wildest dreams for their education and careers. Yet occasionally over the last 6 or 7 years, I would plaintively remark how many children grandma had when she was my age. She had 9 by the time she was 62; when she died at age 82, she had 15. I grieve that my mom didn't live to see her great-grandchildren. She would have adored Michael, an incredibly friendly, fearless toddler much like her and his mother.
Perhaps unconsciously I am blaming mom, who shortened her life by her refusal to accommodate to her physical disabilities. She was never the same after she feel down the stairs on her head, stairs she was forbidden to climb without help. Grandma Nolan, who had 7 children and lived to 86, had 23 great grandchildren when she died. Sadly, I realize I probably will not live long enough to meet my great grandchildren. The infrequently discussed bad effect of having children when you are older is that they don't have young or healthy grandparents. I was 50 , the mother of 4, when my grandma died; Carolyn, my youngest (born when I was 37). was only 21 when her grandma died. Michael's dad's parents both died a few years ago.
I was fortunate enough to be able to stay home full-time when my 4 daughters were young. I had originally planned to go back to my editing career, but I fell madly in love with mothering. We had the option of living on one income, which few couples have now. Supporting their career and child care plans is a struggle for me. I take care of toddler Michael 3 days a week while Anne works. She recently decided to return to work four full days and to possibly explore two days a week of day care. Although I could not commit myself to 4 days, I need time for my granddaughters, and I understand Manhattan day care requires a two-day commitment, I interpreted her decision as a criticism of me. We had a difficult few days before we learned to listen to one another. My second daughter Michelle plans to go back to work full-time after a 12-to-14-week maternity leave. She hasn't decided between day care or a nanny. The third daughter Rose has very flexible work options; she is a human rights lawyer whose writing and research skills are essential to her firm. Even though I bite my tongue and question my motives constantly, all three accuse me of being judgmental. I admit I expected at least one of them to stay home the first year at least.
I worry that I will be perceived as favoring Michael, whom I see so much more often. We plan to visit Boston several times a month, but that won't be close to the several times a week I spend with him. I plan to spend two weeks each with Michelle and Rose after the girls were born, but I spent almost three months visiting Vanessa and Michael nearly every day last summer. I need a new external hard drive if I take as many pictures of the girls as of Michael. I have had great fun with a private family Michael blog. I have already announced I am turning that blog over to his parents and will have one daily grandkid blog.
Anne didn't want me there when she was in labor; she and her husband wanted to do it themselves. She wound up with a C-section that she now thinks was unnecessary and wants me to be there next time. When Anne was born, I didn't want my mom to take off from work because my husband and I wanted our privacy. For the other 3, I planned my pregnancies around my mom's schedule. I didn't realize how much I would need my mom after I gave birth. So I should understand why my daughters would react similarly. My being lucky enough to have 4 drug-free births, including two at home, might make my childbirth support threatening. If I had it so easy, what do I know? . My years as a childbirth educator and breastfeeding counselor also contribute to my being perceived as a judgmental
know-it-all.
Being the babysitter who makes it possible for her to work as well as Anne's mother is potentially a quagmire. Anne and I have navigated the challenges reasonably well, considering she is the daughter with whom I have the most turbulent relationship. Anne is very different from me, far more like my mom, who wasn't a worrier. Sometimes I worry that she doesn't worry enough, and then berate myself for judging my daughter.
My mom died 4 years ago. About five times a day I wish I could call her up for grandmothering advice from the one person who knew me and Anne equally well. When I frequently called my mom in tears over my latest struggle with Anne, we used to look forward to watching her struggles with her kids.
I adore my grandson and feel almost no guilt about how I relate to him. I know what I am doing, and I have no other distractions to prevent me from doing it. His parents and I see eye-to-eye on all important parenting decisions. However, I often feel guilt about not knowing how best to support my daughters, how to be genuinely helpful without undermining their confidence in their own decisions. My mom and I struggled with these issues all our lives, so I don't expect any easy answers.
Even writing about this feel fraught with peril. I don't know if my daughters are reading Matriarch or not. Even though I blog under a pseudonym and change all their names, I constantly worry that they will be furious at me for violating their privacy. It is far less problematic to write about them as kids than to discuss our adult relationships.
Thank you again Veronica for inspiring me to write about something I constantly agonize about. Perhaps it will help clarify my thoughts.
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Posted By Matriarch to Matriarch at 8/08/2008 04:24:00 AM
August 8, 2008
August 6, 2008
Confused Feminist in Love
John and I, 1972, when I was pregnant with AnneChris, a year behind me in college, planned to be a physics professor. (I was desperate to hide from my family that John was 9 months younger.) When I applied to grad schools, I looked for places equally strong in both physics and political science, figuring a year's separation would make us surer about marriage. If I had known myself better, I would have applied to grad schools in New York City. I went to Stanford University in California, 3000 miles away from my love. I hated grad school, was miserable without John, and left after two months. My parents were puzzled that I had given up an all-expenses paid PhD; I foolishly avoided my family for two months.
I returned to NY, got married , and slowly worked my way up in New York City book publishing. I was never wildly enthusiastic about editing social science and psychiatry books. It resembled grad school, abstract, intellectual, remote from people. In 1971 I attended Columbia Law School, hating it even more than grad school. Why I went to law school was murky. The preceding spring at Richard's wedding, my brother Stephen said, "Mom thinks you should go to law school and make something of yourself." In a retirement interview, my mom told the editor of the high school paper that she would have gone to law school if she had had the opportunities open to women now.
Not Just a Mother
I didn't set out to be the mother of four. With five younger brothers, I had no romantic illusions about motherhood. I felt my mother and my aunts had sacrified their spotential to mother large families. From age 13 to 26, I questioned whether I wanted to be a mother at all. Instead, I was determined to have the challeging, intellectually demanding career that I felt to be incompatible with motherhood.
When I was a child, most of the older working women I knew were Roman Catholic nuns. My mother, my friends' mothers, and my aunts stayed home and raised their children. Although I knew I wanted a career, I never could decide what career. I invariably said "I don't know" when people asked me what I wanted to do. But I always added, "I don't want to be just a mother." I valued intellectual acheivement at the expense of the maternal, emotional, intuitive side of my nature. I was sure I didn't want to be just a teacher, a nurse, or a social worker either; the traditionally feminine fields were not for me. I would aim higher.
I was a shy girl who refused to wear the glasses I desperately needed outside the classroom. If any boy noticed me, I must have come across as a dreadful snob since I couldn't see him. I fervently believed that a girl could be smart or she could date. I was as confident in my intellectual abilities as I was dreadfully insecure about my popularity and attractiveness. One of my uncles kept the letters I wrote him when I was in graduate school. They are so embarrassing. Basically I listed the books I had read and the marks I had gotten, comparing them to the marks of my brothers and my friends.
When I was a child, most of the older working women I knew were Roman Catholic nuns. My mother, my friends' mothers, and my aunts stayed home and raised their children. Although I knew I wanted a career, I never could decide what career. I invariably said "I don't know" when people asked me what I wanted to do. But I always added, "I don't want to be just a mother." I valued intellectual acheivement at the expense of the maternal, emotional, intuitive side of my nature. I was sure I didn't want to be just a teacher, a nurse, or a social worker either; the traditionally feminine fields were not for me. I would aim higher.
I was a shy girl who refused to wear the glasses I desperately needed outside the classroom. If any boy noticed me, I must have come across as a dreadful snob since I couldn't see him. I fervently believed that a girl could be smart or she could date. I was as confident in my intellectual abilities as I was dreadfully insecure about my popularity and attractiveness. One of my uncles kept the letters I wrote him when I was in graduate school. They are so embarrassing. Basically I listed the books I had read and the marks I had gotten, comparing them to the marks of my brothers and my friends.
August 5, 2008
I Did Not Set Out to Be a Mother of Four
Once upon a time, Janet posed four excellent questions. I seem to be tackling one a month.
In one of your posts you stated "I did not set out to be a mother of four." Prior to becoming pregnant with your first child, how did you envision your life unfolding?
First, remember how old I am. I was a college freshman when Betty Friedan's The Feminist Mystique was published. I came of age at the birth of the second feminist movement. From age 12 until I met my first husband when I was 2o, I didn't plan to be a wife or a mother. I believed women had to chose; guys didn't fall in love with intellectual women. I envisioned a brilliant career, but I was unclear what that career would be. I certainly rejected the traditional female careers--nurse, teacher, librarian, social worker. In college my ambitions were clearer. I wanted to be a college professor of political science. John, my fiance, planned to be a professor of astrophysics. From the beginning, we planned to share childrearing and housework. Having 5 brothers makes a woman a feminist.
John was a year younger than I was, When I was applying to graduate schools, I was not yet sure of our relationship. I didn't mention to my graduate advisor that love might be a complicating factor. So I applied to the best schools that would give me a fellowship. I eventually chose Stanford because John wanted to go to Berkeley. When I left for California in the fall 0f 1967, Peter, Paul, and Mary's song, Leaving on a Jet Plane was popular. I can never hear it without remembering how heartbroken I was to leave John.
I didn't last a semester at Stanford. How I interpret my leaving has varied tremendously over the years. At the time I convinced myself that I hated Stanford. They were trying to make political science scientific while huge anti-Vietnam War protests were occurring right outside the classroom doors. Accepting this interpretation meant I ruled out graduate school as a possible choice. Probably I just could not be 3000 miles away from my fiance; we got engaged over the phone. Still later, I interpreted my leaving as the first sign of my mood disorder. I decided to come back to NY and get a journalism job; I planned to go to Columbia School of Journalism.
I didn't get a journalism job and wound up in book publishing. In my stupidest career move, I rejected a job at the New Yorker because it would involve too much typing. I was intimidated by the writing requirements of the Columbia application and didn't apply. I advanced quickly in publishing, then got stuck as a Supervising Editing. I wanted to work with authors to acquire and develop books. Because I was a good supervising editor, I wasn't being promoted. I felt I was editing the books I left graduate school to avoid writing.
So I decided to go to law school. It was an ill-thought out decision. Whose dreams was I fulfilling? Early in 1971, my brother Andrew commented: "Mom thinks you are wasting yourself in publishing. You should go to law school and make something of yourself." When she retired from teaching, my mom told the interview from the school paper that she would have been a lawyer if she had come of age in the 60s. I had a vague picture of myself as a public defender fighting for the rights of the poor.
In one of your posts you stated "I did not set out to be a mother of four." Prior to becoming pregnant with your first child, how did you envision your life unfolding?
First, remember how old I am. I was a college freshman when Betty Friedan's The Feminist Mystique was published. I came of age at the birth of the second feminist movement. From age 12 until I met my first husband when I was 2o, I didn't plan to be a wife or a mother. I believed women had to chose; guys didn't fall in love with intellectual women. I envisioned a brilliant career, but I was unclear what that career would be. I certainly rejected the traditional female careers--nurse, teacher, librarian, social worker. In college my ambitions were clearer. I wanted to be a college professor of political science. John, my fiance, planned to be a professor of astrophysics. From the beginning, we planned to share childrearing and housework. Having 5 brothers makes a woman a feminist.
John was a year younger than I was, When I was applying to graduate schools, I was not yet sure of our relationship. I didn't mention to my graduate advisor that love might be a complicating factor. So I applied to the best schools that would give me a fellowship. I eventually chose Stanford because John wanted to go to Berkeley. When I left for California in the fall 0f 1967, Peter, Paul, and Mary's song, Leaving on a Jet Plane was popular. I can never hear it without remembering how heartbroken I was to leave John.
I didn't last a semester at Stanford. How I interpret my leaving has varied tremendously over the years. At the time I convinced myself that I hated Stanford. They were trying to make political science scientific while huge anti-Vietnam War protests were occurring right outside the classroom doors. Accepting this interpretation meant I ruled out graduate school as a possible choice. Probably I just could not be 3000 miles away from my fiance; we got engaged over the phone. Still later, I interpreted my leaving as the first sign of my mood disorder. I decided to come back to NY and get a journalism job; I planned to go to Columbia School of Journalism.
I didn't get a journalism job and wound up in book publishing. In my stupidest career move, I rejected a job at the New Yorker because it would involve too much typing. I was intimidated by the writing requirements of the Columbia application and didn't apply. I advanced quickly in publishing, then got stuck as a Supervising Editing. I wanted to work with authors to acquire and develop books. Because I was a good supervising editor, I wasn't being promoted. I felt I was editing the books I left graduate school to avoid writing.
So I decided to go to law school. It was an ill-thought out decision. Whose dreams was I fulfilling? Early in 1971, my brother Andrew commented: "Mom thinks you are wasting yourself in publishing. You should go to law school and make something of yourself." When she retired from teaching, my mom told the interview from the school paper that she would have been a lawyer if she had come of age in the 60s. I had a vague picture of myself as a public defender fighting for the rights of the poor.
August 1, 2008
Feminism and Motherhood, August 1976
Reading my 1970's journals is both fascinating and disquieting. Do I still know this woman? Would I make friends with her? Would I read her blog? My present husband admits he would have been terrified to talk to her. Part of my confusion is rooted in the times I grew up, in the 1950s and early 1960s, long before feminism. If my oldest daughter Anne had 5 brothers, she wouldn't have received such contradictory messages on achievement and motherhood. All my siblings believe I deserved my struggles with Anne, since I gave my mom such a hard time:) I vividly remember my brother Stephen saying to me right after Anne was born: "Good, you have a daughter to fight with. That must make you very happy."
8/31/76 Since I started journaling, I had many insights into my difficulty in choosing a career. It's intimately bound up with my family, being the only girl with 5 younger bothers. The roots go back a generation; my mother had 5 younger brothers plus a sister she never had very much to do with. In the jargon of early feminism, we were both "male-identified." As a girl, I was very close to my 5 young uncles.
8/31/76 Since I started journaling, I had many insights into my difficulty in choosing a career. It's intimately bound up with my family, being the only girl with 5 younger bothers. The roots go back a generation; my mother had 5 younger brothers plus a sister she never had very much to do with. In the jargon of early feminism, we were both "male-identified." As a girl, I was very close to my 5 young uncles.
My mom was a tender, attentive mother who adored little children and managed them beautifully. How could I have not wanted to be like her--beautiful, vivacious, outgoing, loving, warm, playful. But I was nothing like her; I was shy, quiet, introverted, likely to be ignored in a crowded classroom. I always preferred reading to socializing. I always struggled with my belief that my mom wanted a daughter who was more like her rather than like my quiet, introverted, mathematician dad. I enjoyed babysitting; I never regretted being the oldest in a large family. As a child and early adolescent, I adored babies. My uncle had twins when I was 12. I often visited and helped them out, and tormented by mom by hoping that her sixth child would be twins. I frequently took care of my younger brothers when they were babies and toddlers.
Everything changed when I started high school and started to get attention for being smart. Early in high school I rejected my mother's world and chose my father's world. But even when my father agreed with me intellectually, he never supported me in my arguments with my mother. Instead he blamed me for getting her upset. After my first daughter Anne was born, my dad told me he preferred wise women to intellectual ones. So I rejected my mother's world, yet I was close to my mother and dependent upon her. No wonder we were constantly fighting. What did my mother symbolize to me? Mindless maternity. A good mind going down the drain with thousands of dishes washed ,thousands of diapers rinsed.
I perceived her as a good mother of young children, but not of troubled adolescents, because she accepted things, did not probe, question, challenge the way things were. She found it easier to put others before self because she did not have a highly developed sense of self. I on the other hand was selfish and immature, putting my own intellectual development above all else. I clearly saw a dichotomy--wife and mother versus intellectual. No woman I had ever personally encountered had combined both. In fact, the nuns were the only career women I knew. All my aunts, mothers of my friends, the neighbors were housewives. I was in the process of rejecting Catholicism, so I never got close to any nun for her to serve as a role model. I began to suspect I never would get married, that the only way to attract a man was to play dumb, something I would never consider. I wasn't really rejecting motherhood; I never thought much about it. But when my first boyfriend wanted to tease me, all he had to say was that I was like my mother. I couldn't imagine anything more insulting.
I always sought out situations where I could be the only woman in a group of men. I didn't want to seduce them; I wanted to excel them. I made the mistake of going to a Catholic women's college my freshman year, Nazareth College of Rochester, because they offered the most scholarship money. Almost immediately I wanted to transfer. I told my parents I wanted to switch my major from English to Political Science,, and Nazareth had no such department. I was only interested in college debate after the assistant dean explained that Nazareth had no debate club because "there's something in the nature of a woman that makes it objectionable for her to compete so openly with men."
At Fordham I was usually the only girl in my political science classes. At Stanford, there was only one other woman among the first year grad students. I was positively crushed when I realized how many women there were at Columbia Law School. It wasn't enough for me to think like a man; I had to think better than a man. I only made friends with women who had also rejected the conventions of femininity.
Everyone in the family perceived my dad as smarter than my mom, particularly her. She would always send us to him for the hard math and science homework. We were amazed when she returned to college and got all A's. Thehe mother who graduated from college in 1967 and grad school in 1968 and taught high school history was a different mother than the one I knew growing up. Looking back, I see my mother's ambivalence. My evident influence over her, that fact that she went to college when her youngest entered school, how hard she worked as a student and a teacher, her still emerging feminism all suggest she might have been giving me contradictory messages.
Unquestionably, she identified with my opportunity to go away to college, my getting a NYC apartment, my opportunity to get a PhD all expenses paid--such chances were unheard of among her friends when she was my age. When I told her I was dropping out of Stanford and marrying John, she attempted to dissuade me. She never attempted to convince me to have a baby before I was ready to have one. Her reluctance to pressure me seemed to indicate that she would have done the same thing if circumstances were different. I was destined to go beyond her wildest dreams, and she would be very happy for me. Throughout my adolescence and young adulthood, the "masculine" intellectual, achieving, ambitious, competitive side of my personalty was nourished and encouraged by everybody.
So many of my school and career problems are unquestionably related to my constant striving to be like my brothers,, to deny my womanhood. That's why I am only discovering child development as a possible career. Any career involving children was feminine and therefore unworthy of my superior intellect. It was against all my principles and preconceptions to feel overwhelmingly maternal toward Anne. I thought the maternal instinct was a myth and suddenly I was wallowing in it. I suddenly understood had my mother could have decided to have six children.
I still cannot understand how I suppressed the woman who can't pass a baby stroller without smiling and flirting with the baby, whose favorite During that first year after Anne's birth, I had to learn that I needed people, not just brilliant intellectuals, ordinary people to talk to, to get ideas from. I needed to relinquish my faith in the overriding importance of rationality and learn to trust my emotions. I could learn from almost every mother I met; I could get support from most mothers I met if I could learn how to ask for it.
However, I should have reread this journal before deciding to become a public librarian and a social worker. Having four daughters has not removed the influence of my five brothers and my five young uncles. I still don't do very well in women-dominated professions. I have always been more comfortable with male psychiatrists, both as a patient and as a therapist. I still love competing with and debating with men. As a social worker, I worked best with clients who were schizophrenics with serious drug problems and often prison records. I suspect I would have done well as a prison social worker. Late at night, I am comfortable in a subway car that is all men. It is still easier to approach a group of men than to approach a group of women. All my life I have struggled with the fear that women won't like me if they really know me. I've never learned tact. Men are easy; they enjoy bright, argumentative women who smile, call them sweetie (because I am not good with names), genuinely admire their ties, shirts, long hair, earings, or beards, and obviously enjoy them.
Everything changed when I started high school and started to get attention for being smart. Early in high school I rejected my mother's world and chose my father's world. But even when my father agreed with me intellectually, he never supported me in my arguments with my mother. Instead he blamed me for getting her upset. After my first daughter Anne was born, my dad told me he preferred wise women to intellectual ones. So I rejected my mother's world, yet I was close to my mother and dependent upon her. No wonder we were constantly fighting. What did my mother symbolize to me? Mindless maternity. A good mind going down the drain with thousands of dishes washed ,thousands of diapers rinsed.
I perceived her as a good mother of young children, but not of troubled adolescents, because she accepted things, did not probe, question, challenge the way things were. She found it easier to put others before self because she did not have a highly developed sense of self. I on the other hand was selfish and immature, putting my own intellectual development above all else. I clearly saw a dichotomy--wife and mother versus intellectual. No woman I had ever personally encountered had combined both. In fact, the nuns were the only career women I knew. All my aunts, mothers of my friends, the neighbors were housewives. I was in the process of rejecting Catholicism, so I never got close to any nun for her to serve as a role model. I began to suspect I never would get married, that the only way to attract a man was to play dumb, something I would never consider. I wasn't really rejecting motherhood; I never thought much about it. But when my first boyfriend wanted to tease me, all he had to say was that I was like my mother. I couldn't imagine anything more insulting.
I always sought out situations where I could be the only woman in a group of men. I didn't want to seduce them; I wanted to excel them. I made the mistake of going to a Catholic women's college my freshman year, Nazareth College of Rochester, because they offered the most scholarship money. Almost immediately I wanted to transfer. I told my parents I wanted to switch my major from English to Political Science,, and Nazareth had no such department. I was only interested in college debate after the assistant dean explained that Nazareth had no debate club because "there's something in the nature of a woman that makes it objectionable for her to compete so openly with men."
At Fordham I was usually the only girl in my political science classes. At Stanford, there was only one other woman among the first year grad students. I was positively crushed when I realized how many women there were at Columbia Law School. It wasn't enough for me to think like a man; I had to think better than a man. I only made friends with women who had also rejected the conventions of femininity.
Everyone in the family perceived my dad as smarter than my mom, particularly her. She would always send us to him for the hard math and science homework. We were amazed when she returned to college and got all A's. Thehe mother who graduated from college in 1967 and grad school in 1968 and taught high school history was a different mother than the one I knew growing up. Looking back, I see my mother's ambivalence. My evident influence over her, that fact that she went to college when her youngest entered school, how hard she worked as a student and a teacher, her still emerging feminism all suggest she might have been giving me contradictory messages.
Unquestionably, she identified with my opportunity to go away to college, my getting a NYC apartment, my opportunity to get a PhD all expenses paid--such chances were unheard of among her friends when she was my age. When I told her I was dropping out of Stanford and marrying John, she attempted to dissuade me. She never attempted to convince me to have a baby before I was ready to have one. Her reluctance to pressure me seemed to indicate that she would have done the same thing if circumstances were different. I was destined to go beyond her wildest dreams, and she would be very happy for me. Throughout my adolescence and young adulthood, the "masculine" intellectual, achieving, ambitious, competitive side of my personalty was nourished and encouraged by everybody.
So many of my school and career problems are unquestionably related to my constant striving to be like my brothers,, to deny my womanhood. That's why I am only discovering child development as a possible career. Any career involving children was feminine and therefore unworthy of my superior intellect. It was against all my principles and preconceptions to feel overwhelmingly maternal toward Anne. I thought the maternal instinct was a myth and suddenly I was wallowing in it. I suddenly understood had my mother could have decided to have six children.
I still cannot understand how I suppressed the woman who can't pass a baby stroller without smiling and flirting with the baby, whose favorite During that first year after Anne's birth, I had to learn that I needed people, not just brilliant intellectuals, ordinary people to talk to, to get ideas from. I needed to relinquish my faith in the overriding importance of rationality and learn to trust my emotions. I could learn from almost every mother I met; I could get support from most mothers I met if I could learn how to ask for it.
However, I should have reread this journal before deciding to become a public librarian and a social worker. Having four daughters has not removed the influence of my five brothers and my five young uncles. I still don't do very well in women-dominated professions. I have always been more comfortable with male psychiatrists, both as a patient and as a therapist. I still love competing with and debating with men. As a social worker, I worked best with clients who were schizophrenics with serious drug problems and often prison records. I suspect I would have done well as a prison social worker. Late at night, I am comfortable in a subway car that is all men. It is still easier to approach a group of men than to approach a group of women. All my life I have struggled with the fear that women won't like me if they really know me. I've never learned tact. Men are easy; they enjoy bright, argumentative women who smile, call them sweetie (because I am not good with names), genuinely admire their ties, shirts, long hair, earings, or beards, and obviously enjoy them.
Taking in on the Chin for Obama
This is my birthday present from my brother Michael, a genius at Photoshop. I love it.
Proud Mother
Jane Mayer, the New Yorker writer, thanks my daughter for her work on her new book, The Dark Side.
"I am also deeply indebted to Katherine *******, a meticulous lawyer and scholar, whose sharp eye and encyclopedic knowledge of the legal practices of the Bush Administration's war on terror improved the manuscript immeasurably."
July 28, 2008
Confessions of Misogyny
You have undoubtedly gotten the wrong impression of me because all the crap dumped on Hillary elicited my Joan of Arc persona and I was in full polemic mode. My four daughters would reassure you that I am one of the worst misogynists they know. Until I became a mother at age 28, I would always join the circle of men, never the circle of women. I was positive the conversation would be more stimulating. I despise women's fashion magazines and all the talk of diets , hair, shoes, and makeup. Being forced to watch Sex and the City would be cruel and unusual punishment.
Spending a year in a Catholic girls college in Rochester was the most alienating experience of my life. I was sarcastic, and no one seemed to realize I didn't necessarily mean it. One night my friends and I stayed up all night, discussing politics, sex, religion, life, death, etc. The rumor rapidly spread that we were gossiping about everyone on the floor. Learning from the college dean that "there was something in the nature of a woman that unsuits her for intellectual debate with men" elicited my jail beak to being the only girl in the political science classes at Fordham.
Working in the female-dominated fields of public librarianship and social work was a disaster for me. I never can accept that is the way it is and you can't do anything about it. I am a trouble maker pure and simple. When I am upset, I defend myself by getting more ascerbic and intellectual. I perceive that men enjoy gutsy women who giggle and smile and tease and insult and debate with them lots more than women do. I have always gone to male shrinks.
My most successful social work job was working with a great group of seriously mentally ill guys who were absolutely trapped in the system. Some had been in jail; most had substance abuse problems. I never was so appreciated by a group of people in my whole life. They were so wonderful to hang out with. I excel at eliciting the sanity in crazy people and the craziness in apparently sane people. There are lots of the latter in social work and public librarianship.
I also did extremely well with male gay clients. One told me I must have been a gay male in a previous lifetime I understand him so well. I Another paid me the greatest compliment I got as a shrink: he said I was his only experience of unconditional love. We had a strange therapeutic relationship. Until I treated him, an Irishmen from an utterly abusive family, I never realized how Irish I was.
I have never been hassled on the street by a guy in my entire life. I do smile a lot. I am perfectly comfortable being the only women in a subway car full of men. African American men and immigrants tend to find older, curvier women attractive, which is lovely fun. In the early days of women's lib, women whined incessantly about street hassles. I wondered if I was the ugliest woman in the entire women's liberation movement. I often have long conversations with homeless men. One street person teased me that I looked very friendly ,approachable, happy to talk, sometimes generous depending upon whether I had exceeded my day's handout limit, but I subtly conveyed that I could turn him to stone if he messed with me.
Two days later, I realize that the attacks on Hillary by women both reflect their misogyny and evoke mine. This week, all three female columnists for the NY Times , Maureen Dowd, Gail Collins, and Judith Warner appear to despise women who are not as brilliant, rational, skeptical, and educated as they are. They show little respect for the women who voted for Hillary because of her supposedly manipulative exploitation of gender issues; they seem obnoxiously smug that they understand women's real reasons, not the fantasies the poor little darlings tell themselves . I am not as guilty as they are of despising "regular" women, but I love to hate all highly successful women who, instead of supporting and mentoring younger women, seem to want to push down other women so they will remain in all their glittering exceptionalism on the top.
Spending a year in a Catholic girls college in Rochester was the most alienating experience of my life. I was sarcastic, and no one seemed to realize I didn't necessarily mean it. One night my friends and I stayed up all night, discussing politics, sex, religion, life, death, etc. The rumor rapidly spread that we were gossiping about everyone on the floor. Learning from the college dean that "there was something in the nature of a woman that unsuits her for intellectual debate with men" elicited my jail beak to being the only girl in the political science classes at Fordham.
Working in the female-dominated fields of public librarianship and social work was a disaster for me. I never can accept that is the way it is and you can't do anything about it. I am a trouble maker pure and simple. When I am upset, I defend myself by getting more ascerbic and intellectual. I perceive that men enjoy gutsy women who giggle and smile and tease and insult and debate with them lots more than women do. I have always gone to male shrinks.
My most successful social work job was working with a great group of seriously mentally ill guys who were absolutely trapped in the system. Some had been in jail; most had substance abuse problems. I never was so appreciated by a group of people in my whole life. They were so wonderful to hang out with. I excel at eliciting the sanity in crazy people and the craziness in apparently sane people. There are lots of the latter in social work and public librarianship.
I also did extremely well with male gay clients. One told me I must have been a gay male in a previous lifetime I understand him so well. I Another paid me the greatest compliment I got as a shrink: he said I was his only experience of unconditional love. We had a strange therapeutic relationship. Until I treated him, an Irishmen from an utterly abusive family, I never realized how Irish I was.
I have never been hassled on the street by a guy in my entire life. I do smile a lot. I am perfectly comfortable being the only women in a subway car full of men. African American men and immigrants tend to find older, curvier women attractive, which is lovely fun. In the early days of women's lib, women whined incessantly about street hassles. I wondered if I was the ugliest woman in the entire women's liberation movement. I often have long conversations with homeless men. One street person teased me that I looked very friendly ,approachable, happy to talk, sometimes generous depending upon whether I had exceeded my day's handout limit, but I subtly conveyed that I could turn him to stone if he messed with me.
Two days later, I realize that the attacks on Hillary by women both reflect their misogyny and evoke mine. This week, all three female columnists for the NY Times , Maureen Dowd, Gail Collins, and Judith Warner appear to despise women who are not as brilliant, rational, skeptical, and educated as they are. They show little respect for the women who voted for Hillary because of her supposedly manipulative exploitation of gender issues; they seem obnoxiously smug that they understand women's real reasons, not the fantasies the poor little darlings tell themselves . I am not as guilty as they are of despising "regular" women, but I love to hate all highly successful women who, instead of supporting and mentoring younger women, seem to want to push down other women so they will remain in all their glittering exceptionalism on the top.
July 26, 2008
Blocks
Michael is getting the hang of building with blocks. He knows how to put one on top of another. Previously, he loved knocking down buildings we constructed. He also can put bristle blocks together. I would lend him some of our wooden unit blocks, except that he loves to hurl things, and we value our teeth.
July 22, 2008
Pride Overcomes Anxiety
I would like to share something I wrote in 2001 to a Salon group:
"My 28-year-old daughter has just accepted a summer internship in Rwanda. Seven years ago, a million people were killed in three months in the worst genocide since the Holocaust. She is getting a master's degree in international affairs at Columbia, specializing in human rights, transitional justice, and Africa. If she wasn't going to Rwanda, she would have gone to the Congo. I am fiercely proud of her. But I worry about how to handle my fears as she goes from one world flash point to the next. I want to support her, not burden her with my anxieties. I would like to share experiences and ideas with other mothers of children whose idealism and dedication take them into danger. "
Learning not to burden my daughters with my anxieties is a lifelong struggle. But my anxiety is not nearly as great as my pride:
The daughter whom I was so worried about, co-edited this new book, which got excellent reviews and is being ordered for international relations classes throughout the country. I am proud that I figured out how to prevent my anxiety from clipping her wings.
"My 28-year-old daughter has just accepted a summer internship in Rwanda. Seven years ago, a million people were killed in three months in the worst genocide since the Holocaust. She is getting a master's degree in international affairs at Columbia, specializing in human rights, transitional justice, and Africa. If she wasn't going to Rwanda, she would have gone to the Congo. I am fiercely proud of her. But I worry about how to handle my fears as she goes from one world flash point to the next. I want to support her, not burden her with my anxieties. I would like to share experiences and ideas with other mothers of children whose idealism and dedication take them into danger. "
Learning not to burden my daughters with my anxieties is a lifelong struggle. But my anxiety is not nearly as great as my pride:
The daughter whom I was so worried about, co-edited this new book, which got excellent reviews and is being ordered for international relations classes throughout the country. I am proud that I figured out how to prevent my anxiety from clipping her wings.
July 17, 2008
What Is Wrong with My Three Year Old?
I am distressed by how many parents of preschool boys worry that their sons are autistic when their sons' behavior would never have been considered autistic even ten years ago. The autistic spectrum seems to become ever wider, capturing many more children in its diagnostic net. I have known, am related to, men who would now be diagnosed along the autistic spectrum. Yes, they are eccentric; yes, they are not the most stimulating conversationalists; yes , they don't have a huge number of friends. But they can be good sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers. If you can relate to your computer, you can have a successful career. Is the alarming epidemic of autism, along with the similar epidemic of childhood bipolar disorder, created by greatly expanding the criteria for diagnosis? Are we losing tolerance for divergent thinkers to maintain a society hostile to children and families?
When my kids were young, 25-30 years ago, even in therapy-obsessed Manhattan, preschool kids weren't frequently diagnosed, weren't taking psychiatric medications, so I am skeptical about this epidemic of very young children with serious problems requiring psychiatric drugs. If our kids were having problems in nursery school, we might decide to wait another year and find a better school. What is going wrong with the way we are raising children? Why do we look in children's brains for the answers to be found in social reform? Are we being encouraged to worry needlessly about our own kids that we don't have any time or energy for political activism on behalf of all children?
Who is blowing the whistle? Who is questioning the wisdom of babies and toddlers being cared for by strangers? Who is wondering whether group care is appropriate for most children under three or four? Thirty-five years ago, children were five before they were expected to adapt to group standards of behavior. Who is crusading for a shorter work week and greatly increased parental leaves? Who is is dedicated to make caring for preschoolers a viable career path for college graduates, comparable to teaching in salary and benefits?
Who is demanding the economic changes required to enable parents to care for their babies and toddlers themselves? Who is comparing our rate of childhood mental illness with rates in the rest of the Western world? Who is outraged about preschoolers taking multiple psychiatric drugs that have never been tested on children? Who is fighting to outlaw drugs ads in magazines and on TV? Why are we teaching our kids that drugs are the solution to every problem? Thirty years ago we felt like bad parents if we let our kids have caffeine.
The aggressive drug treatment of mental illness in the last 30 years hasn't been a success story. When yesterday's wonder drug becomes generic, its ineffectiveness is suddenly discovered and its dangerous side effects are no longer covered up. Today's expensive wonder drug will save your life after being tested for a shockingly short time on shockingly few people who don't share your diagnoses. Witness the latest advertising blitz to treat bipolars with antipsychotics; all the tried and true mood stabilizers are becoming generic, so they obviously can't help.
Preschoolers are so unformed, so in process. This year's four year old can seem like a different creature than last year's three year old. These diagnoses of autism, bipolar disorder, ADHD imply lifelong, incurable brain disorders for which there are no medical tests, no verifiable proof of their existence. How do we know that today's experts on autism are any more correct than the world acclaimed psychiatrist who attributed autism to "icebox mothers" 40 years ago? Why do we expect little boys to adapt to schools better suited to girls? Why don't we train and recruit more male teachers in preschools, who might be better role models for little boys and help create more welcoming schools?
It is politically correct to be very tolerant and open-minded about emotional problems, but that enlightenment is only surface deep. I mourn for the three year old already cursed with a lifelong diagnosis. Loner, loser, geek, and nerd seem far kinder labels. In this fall's TV season, geeks are the new Prince Charmings. The confidentiality of medical records is a myth. Many adults not diagnosed along the autistic spectrum have successful careers in math, science, engineering, computer programming. Would that have happened if they had been diagnosed and stigmatized as preschoolers? What special services would you have prescribed for Bill Gates?
When my kids were young, 25-30 years ago, even in therapy-obsessed Manhattan, preschool kids weren't frequently diagnosed, weren't taking psychiatric medications, so I am skeptical about this epidemic of very young children with serious problems requiring psychiatric drugs. If our kids were having problems in nursery school, we might decide to wait another year and find a better school. What is going wrong with the way we are raising children? Why do we look in children's brains for the answers to be found in social reform? Are we being encouraged to worry needlessly about our own kids that we don't have any time or energy for political activism on behalf of all children?
Who is blowing the whistle? Who is questioning the wisdom of babies and toddlers being cared for by strangers? Who is wondering whether group care is appropriate for most children under three or four? Thirty-five years ago, children were five before they were expected to adapt to group standards of behavior. Who is crusading for a shorter work week and greatly increased parental leaves? Who is is dedicated to make caring for preschoolers a viable career path for college graduates, comparable to teaching in salary and benefits?
Who is demanding the economic changes required to enable parents to care for their babies and toddlers themselves? Who is comparing our rate of childhood mental illness with rates in the rest of the Western world? Who is outraged about preschoolers taking multiple psychiatric drugs that have never been tested on children? Who is fighting to outlaw drugs ads in magazines and on TV? Why are we teaching our kids that drugs are the solution to every problem? Thirty years ago we felt like bad parents if we let our kids have caffeine.
The aggressive drug treatment of mental illness in the last 30 years hasn't been a success story. When yesterday's wonder drug becomes generic, its ineffectiveness is suddenly discovered and its dangerous side effects are no longer covered up. Today's expensive wonder drug will save your life after being tested for a shockingly short time on shockingly few people who don't share your diagnoses. Witness the latest advertising blitz to treat bipolars with antipsychotics; all the tried and true mood stabilizers are becoming generic, so they obviously can't help.
Preschoolers are so unformed, so in process. This year's four year old can seem like a different creature than last year's three year old. These diagnoses of autism, bipolar disorder, ADHD imply lifelong, incurable brain disorders for which there are no medical tests, no verifiable proof of their existence. How do we know that today's experts on autism are any more correct than the world acclaimed psychiatrist who attributed autism to "icebox mothers" 40 years ago? Why do we expect little boys to adapt to schools better suited to girls? Why don't we train and recruit more male teachers in preschools, who might be better role models for little boys and help create more welcoming schools?
It is politically correct to be very tolerant and open-minded about emotional problems, but that enlightenment is only surface deep. I mourn for the three year old already cursed with a lifelong diagnosis. Loner, loser, geek, and nerd seem far kinder labels. In this fall's TV season, geeks are the new Prince Charmings. The confidentiality of medical records is a myth. Many adults not diagnosed along the autistic spectrum have successful careers in math, science, engineering, computer programming. Would that have happened if they had been diagnosed and stigmatized as preschoolers? What special services would you have prescribed for Bill Gates?
I am not questioning that some preschoolers will benefit from early intervention to cope with their idiosyncratic learning styles or developmental delays. I am not questioning that some children with severe problems require evaluation and treatment from infancy. But preschool services should not necessitate a lifelong diagnosis.
Why would you accept that your young child has a permanently broken brain? Why not take him out of day care, find a different nanny, change nursery schools, reduce your working hours, live more frugally, borrow money and take a leave of absence from work, ask your parents and relatives for help, search out books and activities about his particular obsessions, learn the recommended interventions yourself?
Does your child need more relaxed time with his overscheduled parents rather than tense sessions with experts comfortable with diagnosing him after a few testing sessions?Why not wait until the picture becomes clearer? Why it is so urgent to find the answer when he is 2 or 3? We are not dealing with meningitis or childhood leukemia. here Are we doing far more harm than good? When I hear a 7 year old rattle off all his psychiatric labels, it breaks my heart and makes me want to man the barricades. I would love to find some comrades.
Does your child need more relaxed time with his overscheduled parents rather than tense sessions with experts comfortable with diagnosing him after a few testing sessions?Why not wait until the picture becomes clearer? Why it is so urgent to find the answer when he is 2 or 3? We are not dealing with meningitis or childhood leukemia. here Are we doing far more harm than good? When I hear a 7 year old rattle off all his psychiatric labels, it breaks my heart and makes me want to man the barricades. I would love to find some comrades.
July 13, 2008
Emphasize Feminism
Clinton should disassociate herself from the PUMAs, defending her former supporters who are following her advice to work their hearts out for Obama. Clinton supporters who immediately started to work for Obama seem to be targeted by some PUMA trolls on our blogger blogs as cowardly traitors. The anonymous attacks on me removed from the Clintonista for Obama blog were revolting and ageist, implying I was too close to the grave to have a right to political advocacy, that I desperately needed, but would never get, a man, that they laughed themselves sick at my profile.
Given that these personal attacks on me echoed the attacks made by the media and progressive blogs against older Hillary supporters, I have to wonder who those anonymous hit-and-run attackers truly were. Are they truly Hillary supporters or an army of Karl Roves in disguise? Is it completely unfair to associate them with genuine PUMAS? The whole mess is heartbreaking. I certainly understand where the PUMA people are coming from. I just have to reread all my letters to my daughters and sons-in-law for the last year. I was totally demoralized that they were all supporting Obama and repeating all the right-wing Hillary demonizing that had now been adopted by too many progressive blogs.
I had dedicated 30 years of my life to nonsexist childrearing of 4 daughters, and now I was discovering they probably weren't feminists and couldn't recognize sexism and misogyny. They had splendid educations and excellent jobs, so they hadn't experienced much discrimination. However, after a year of mothering, my oldest daughter realizes we don't live in a postfeminist era. Two more daughters are becoming mothers this year, so they will be similarly enlightened. There is nothing like discovering you might make $100,000 plus, but are still expected to pump breastmilk in a toilet to raise your consciousness. If your consciousness isn't raised enough, finding out that storing your pumped breastmilk in a company refrigerator is a biohazard should bring enlightenment.
The attacks on me and other Clinton supporters for Obama made the Obama supporters on mybarackobama seems like cuddly little bunnies in contrast. Now that they realize I am genuinely working hard for Obama, they can welcome me, even as I criticize him from the progressive left. Admittedly, it has taken me a month to find groups of Obama supporters I can work with, and we had to work through much miscommunication and misunderstanding.
Some Obama supporters genuinely believe that Hillary doesn't disown the PUMAs because she believes they enhance her chances for the vice presidential nomination. I am sure they are wrong, but I understand how Clinton's speaking out would probably reassure people.
Feminists and other progressives need to start a peaceful revolution for a family-friendly, child-friendly, elder-friendly, human-friendly America. Instead we squabble like little children. Wait, that isn't fair to toddlers. The under threes I hang out with are far better behaved and cooperative.
However, if Obama supporters viciously attack Hillary supporters who are not ready to support Obama, they reinflict all the traumatic wounds of the primary season. I perfectly understand how many women feel that supporting Obama is equivalent to going back to an abusive husband. The primary campaign reawakened in me memories of a lifetime of discrimination, mockery, and misogyny. We are all too quick to dismiss people who disagree with us as trolls. Rational debate is not trolling. I do try to take what people say seriously and dialogue with them. A serious discussion of the need for a new feminist movement of progressive men and women might be a constructive substitute for tormenting our former and future allies
July 12, 2008
Taming Trolls
Apparently the term "troll" originated in the 16th century to describe political debate and insult in London coffee houses. The term is thrown about too loosely. When I was active in bipolar listservs in the mid-1990s, a troll was a despicable person who joined the group pretending to be bipolar. He often set people against each other, preyed on the vulnerabilities of achingly vulnerable people, pretended to be in crisis, etc. We all knew what the word meant. Who knows what it means in political debate? In my first weeks on mybarackobama, I was accused of being a troll daily. Anyone capable of rational debate is not a troll. We all get intellectually lazy about explaining our principles and policies. It does us good to be challenged.
Parents learn to ignore obnoxious toddler or preschool behavior rather than to make a big fuss about it. When my oldest daughter was 1 and 2, she pulled hair and dumped sand on people's heads. I finally realized that she wasn't inherently vicious; she just adored uproar. Her criminal behavior only occurred in the presence of parents absolutely guaranteed to go round the twist. She stopped eating sand when her pediatrician looked her in the eyes and told her how important it was to eat enough sand daily to stay healthy.
Real trolls love uproar. If you enjoy the insult game, you can't complain about your comrades in insult being trolls because you obviously relish uproar as well. The devil child now works for the International Peace Institute.She no longer eats sand, although she has spent a suspiciously long time in African deserts unobserved by me. So there might be hope for trolls and the troll accusers.
If you don't immediately recognize this, you have a serious case against your parents for child abuse and cannot be held responsible for any untoward behavior on blogs. But you need to be in your public library tomorrow morning.
"And when he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws till Max said, "BE STILL!" and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things."
Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
Parents learn to ignore obnoxious toddler or preschool behavior rather than to make a big fuss about it. When my oldest daughter was 1 and 2, she pulled hair and dumped sand on people's heads. I finally realized that she wasn't inherently vicious; she just adored uproar. Her criminal behavior only occurred in the presence of parents absolutely guaranteed to go round the twist. She stopped eating sand when her pediatrician looked her in the eyes and told her how important it was to eat enough sand daily to stay healthy.
Real trolls love uproar. If you enjoy the insult game, you can't complain about your comrades in insult being trolls because you obviously relish uproar as well. The devil child now works for the International Peace Institute.She no longer eats sand, although she has spent a suspiciously long time in African deserts unobserved by me. So there might be hope for trolls and the troll accusers.
If you don't immediately recognize this, you have a serious case against your parents for child abuse and cannot be held responsible for any untoward behavior on blogs. But you need to be in your public library tomorrow morning.
"And when he came to the place where the wild things are, they roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws till Max said, "BE STILL!" and tamed them with the magic trick of staring into all their yellow eyes without blinking once and they were frightened and called him the most wild thing of all and made him king of all wild things."
Maurice Sendak, Where the Wild Things Are
July 11, 2008
Divergent Thinkers
Some parents have asked me why I feel so passionately about preschool psychiatric diagnoses when my own daughters didn't have such serious problems. I will let you in on a secret. Bright, creative children can have a terrible time adjusting to traditional American grade schools. Bright bored children don't finish worksheets, don't pay attention, daydream, forget assignments, leave books and homework home, ignore the teacher, read ahead of the class and miss their place if called upon, miss many days of school. My local school insisted on testing a kindergarten boy for development disability; his IQ was genius level. When my writer, pictured above, was in first grade, her teacher refused to assign her to the advanced reading group until she was more "cooperative and compliant."
Rose never became compliant. In kindergarten she refused to do assignments because "writers use their own words." In high school she refused to do art projects because "artists paint what they need to, not what the teacher assigns." Now I would be told to have her tested because her "emotional maturity" lagged behind her intelligence. My two high school valedictorians were not given any awards from grade school. They only truly liked school when they got to Yale.
Your bright preschooler might face as many challenges as your friend's autistic or ADHD son. More schools have special ed services than have gifted services. Again and again, I questioned whether home schooling might be easier than my daily struggle with their school. Younger parents might not anticipate the extent to which they need to be advocates for their kids in American's test-obsessed schools. Getting high test scores is more important than being a gifted musician or artist. Kids who don't adjust to the norm are stimatized. The most creative, divergent thinkers our society desperately needs can be slapped with a psychiatric label and have their giftedness drugged out of them.
Can a Feminist Be a Misogynist?
Warning: pedantry ahead. Let's distinguish between misogyny, misandry, and sexism. Misogyny is hatred and disdain for women in general. Misandry, hatred and disdain for men in general, is probably the most underused word in political debate. Although a lifelong feminist, I have always loathed knee-jerk male-bashing and defended men against stereotyping all my life. Wikipedia has a decent definition of sexism: "Sexism is commonly considered to be discrimination and/or hatred of people based on their sex rather than their individual merits."
I struggle greatly with my own misogyny. I was much more comfortable being the only girl in my political science classes at Fordham than attending an all girls Catholic College in my freshman year. I credit my 5 younger brothers and 5 young uncles. My four daughters might have contributed to the misogyny too:) Working in the women-dominated fields of librarianship and social work has been a terribly bad fit for me with dire economic consequences.
I am far more confident that men will like me than women will like me. I don't do tact. If I see a group of 5 men at a party, I know they need me:) All my shrinks have been men. I have done my best therapy work with male clients. One client told me I must have been a gay male in a previous lifetime since I understood him so well:) The real explanation was that manic depressive closets resemble gay closets.
Misogyny and misandry are equally sexist. Women can be just as guilty of sexism as men. When people complain that Obama isn't tough enough, or nasty enough, they are being sexist. The glorification of the macho man is sexist. The idea that little boys can't cry or wear pink or play with dolls is sexist. The denial that fathers are just as loving, nurturing parents as women is sexist. Questioning the masculinity of a man who stays home and cares for his children is sexist. Expectations that daughters are better qualified to care for aging parents are sexist.
Sexism underpins our whole glorification of war and violence. It cannot possibly be defeated in one generation. All of human history is not changed quite so quickly. Taking care of my one year old grandson, I am conscious that preschool boys possibly suffer more from sexism than little girls. When a girl shows interest in traditionally masculine activities, it is often seen as upward mobility. When a boy shows interest in girlie things, people start wondering if he is gay. Older men in the elevator are already fretting about Michael's curls.
All of us are crippled by such attitudes. Preschools and elementary schools are a better match for most girls. Boys too often wind up on medication so they can conform to classroom rules and expectations. The idea that boys can't be babysitters or men can't be daycare, kindergarten, and grade school teachers is disgustingly sexist. Home health agencies seem to find it unimaginable that a client might want a guy to care for their aging mother. The idea that any man is a potential rapist or sexual predator is hideously sexist.
Having a grandson has been a profound journey, evoking memories of my brothers as young children. I was 11 when my 4th brother was born, 13 when my 5th brother was born. In pictures, I look old enough to be their teenage mom. I recall their tears, their tenderness, their vulnerabilities. My parents were relatively enlightened, but only one of my brothers could cry when we were all together for a week while my mother died at home. And when my brothers heard him crying, they assumed he was me.
July 9, 2008
Peaceful Revolution for a Family-Friendly US
Cross-posted at Daily Kos, MyDD.
I have 4 daughters and 5 brothers. I have witnessed a surfeit of sibling squabbles. I had hoped Obama's becoming the presumptive nominee would have modulated the bickering. People, John McCain doesn't understand how Social Security works. in my era in Catholic schools, you couldn't graduate from 8th grade that ignorant. We have had 8 years of a stupid, invincibly ignorant president. Bloggers are presumably intelligent, articulate, knowledgeable people. Don't you value Obama's intelligence, no matter what you think of his politics?
I am one day older than the atom bomb, born the day after Trinity (I expect birthday greetings very soon if you know your history:) I was a 1960s radical nonviolent pacifist and am a card-carrying member of the War Resister's League. I can go spectacularly limp if you try to drag me from the demonstration. I have not changed as I raised 4 daughters, took care of my dying parents, worked as a public librarian and social worker.
We need a nonviolent revolution to transform America into a children-friendly, family-friendly, elder-friendly, human-being-friendly society that is not the disgrace of most of the world. If you want to have children or take care of your aging parents, you would be better off moving almost anywhere in the world.
I supported Hillary and I am now supporting Obama by holding his clay feet to my progressive fires. I am a million percent sure the US will be better off with him as president than McCain as president. But I have no illusions he is a liberal or a progressive. He will only be as liberal as the country forces him to be. I have known that from the beginning, so I don't feel betrayed.
Since Obama became the presumptive nominee, I became very active in mybarackobama , and in a month have amassed 867 points and am in 7416 place. Joining lots of groups, making sure my blog posts land on their group page, then leaving if I get no response are the keys to my point total. I didn't do that deliberately; most of the groups sound interesting but are inactive. I feel like a first grader bragging about the gold stars on my forehead. I have been asked to leave two groups, but I started 3 groups of my own, which I control absolutely. My blogs posts can be sent to 10 groups at once. Mybarackobama seems remarkably open to Obama criticism. I hope it continues after he wins the election. I feel I am having a much more positive impact than if I was feeding my resentments on Puma blogs.
Let's stop squandering the ideas, energy, passion needed for the revolution on destructive family squabbles. I thought the feminists of my generation would change things so that our kids could combine careers and children and elder care. I intend to dedicate the rest of my life to making sure my grandchildren can. I have a 14-month old grandson with a granddaughter due in August and another one due in December.
If you think managing careers and child care is difficult, wait until a phone call in the middle of the night plunges you into the nightmare of combining elder care and your career. And no, Medicare or Health Insurance does not pay for custodial care and help with the activities of daily life for failing or demented elders who are going to die of their illness. Medicare or Health Insurance might spend hundreds of thousands on death bed heroics. but they won't pay for an aide willing to change adult diapers. I hope you all are practicing. I suggest wrapping the use diaper in a plastic bag and tossing it out the bathroom window to a garbage can outside the window. But you need to live in a house for that.
I have been a feminist since my brother was born when I was 18 months old. Having 4 more younger brothers reinforced it. The culminating moment was when I was preparing for First Communion and the nun informed me that boys went up first because they could be priests and were closer to God. !6 years of misogynistic Catholic education guarantees radical feminism for life.
I was the only girl in my political science classes at Fordham and I especially love to argue with men. I don't do tact. So when is my birthday and why do I call myself Redstocking Grandma? If you can't answer those two questions, you undoubtedly need to read more history and do less blogging and commenting. Ask me for a reading list. I give lots of homework.
Time will tell if I moderate my blogs, censoring people who can't pass my history test:) This is a joke guys.But I do want intelligent discussion and debate, not the reversion to a middle school cafeteria that too many blogs became during the primary. In 1987, equally digrunted with my shrink and my first husband, I ordered a red sweatshirt that proclaimed: "Never love a man who doesn't love Jane Austen, Doris Lessing, and Margaret Drabble." More homework . After 14 years, that shirt got me an English husband. Jane Austen introduced us; we met on a Jane Austen online listserv.. A nonviolent revolutionary who loves Jane Austen, what's not to love?
I have 4 daughters and 5 brothers. I have witnessed a surfeit of sibling squabbles. I had hoped Obama's becoming the presumptive nominee would have modulated the bickering. People, John McCain doesn't understand how Social Security works. in my era in Catholic schools, you couldn't graduate from 8th grade that ignorant. We have had 8 years of a stupid, invincibly ignorant president. Bloggers are presumably intelligent, articulate, knowledgeable people. Don't you value Obama's intelligence, no matter what you think of his politics?
I am one day older than the atom bomb, born the day after Trinity (I expect birthday greetings very soon if you know your history:) I was a 1960s radical nonviolent pacifist and am a card-carrying member of the War Resister's League. I can go spectacularly limp if you try to drag me from the demonstration. I have not changed as I raised 4 daughters, took care of my dying parents, worked as a public librarian and social worker.
We need a nonviolent revolution to transform America into a children-friendly, family-friendly, elder-friendly, human-being-friendly society that is not the disgrace of most of the world. If you want to have children or take care of your aging parents, you would be better off moving almost anywhere in the world.
I supported Hillary and I am now supporting Obama by holding his clay feet to my progressive fires. I am a million percent sure the US will be better off with him as president than McCain as president. But I have no illusions he is a liberal or a progressive. He will only be as liberal as the country forces him to be. I have known that from the beginning, so I don't feel betrayed.
Since Obama became the presumptive nominee, I became very active in mybarackobama , and in a month have amassed 867 points and am in 7416 place. Joining lots of groups, making sure my blog posts land on their group page, then leaving if I get no response are the keys to my point total. I didn't do that deliberately; most of the groups sound interesting but are inactive. I feel like a first grader bragging about the gold stars on my forehead. I have been asked to leave two groups, but I started 3 groups of my own, which I control absolutely. My blogs posts can be sent to 10 groups at once. Mybarackobama seems remarkably open to Obama criticism. I hope it continues after he wins the election. I feel I am having a much more positive impact than if I was feeding my resentments on Puma blogs.
Let's stop squandering the ideas, energy, passion needed for the revolution on destructive family squabbles. I thought the feminists of my generation would change things so that our kids could combine careers and children and elder care. I intend to dedicate the rest of my life to making sure my grandchildren can. I have a 14-month old grandson with a granddaughter due in August and another one due in December.
If you think managing careers and child care is difficult, wait until a phone call in the middle of the night plunges you into the nightmare of combining elder care and your career. And no, Medicare or Health Insurance does not pay for custodial care and help with the activities of daily life for failing or demented elders who are going to die of their illness. Medicare or Health Insurance might spend hundreds of thousands on death bed heroics. but they won't pay for an aide willing to change adult diapers. I hope you all are practicing. I suggest wrapping the use diaper in a plastic bag and tossing it out the bathroom window to a garbage can outside the window. But you need to live in a house for that.
I have been a feminist since my brother was born when I was 18 months old. Having 4 more younger brothers reinforced it. The culminating moment was when I was preparing for First Communion and the nun informed me that boys went up first because they could be priests and were closer to God. !6 years of misogynistic Catholic education guarantees radical feminism for life.
I was the only girl in my political science classes at Fordham and I especially love to argue with men. I don't do tact. So when is my birthday and why do I call myself Redstocking Grandma? If you can't answer those two questions, you undoubtedly need to read more history and do less blogging and commenting. Ask me for a reading list. I give lots of homework.
Time will tell if I moderate my blogs, censoring people who can't pass my history test:) This is a joke guys.But I do want intelligent discussion and debate, not the reversion to a middle school cafeteria that too many blogs became during the primary. In 1987, equally digrunted with my shrink and my first husband, I ordered a red sweatshirt that proclaimed: "Never love a man who doesn't love Jane Austen, Doris Lessing, and Margaret Drabble." More homework . After 14 years, that shirt got me an English husband. Jane Austen introduced us; we met on a Jane Austen online listserv.. A nonviolent revolutionary who loves Jane Austen, what's not to love?
July 6, 2008
It Makes Me Sad, Mommy
To tell this story, properly, I am going to have to reveal my daughter's first name, not her middle name.My daughter Rose(reallyKatherine), age 28, is a writer and human rights lawyer. She helped write the book, Guantanamo and the Abuse of Presidential Power. Did I always know she was going to be a writer? The first indication came when she was under two. We had spelled Katherine with a K because we intended to call her Katie. She stopped being Katie the minute she told me: "It makes me sad, mommy, that you call me Katie when my name is Katherine." We never called her Katie again. How long had she realized her family did not know her name?Did she take weeks crafting such a perfect sentence that demanded and got perfect compliance?
Her dad Chris remembers: "Katherine has displayed single-minded determination in everything she has undertaken. She became interested in the planets when she was two. She learned not only the names of the planets and their positions, but also the names of all their satellites. She made up stories about the planets, and at one point every member of the family had a planet name. " I was happy my name was earth.
She started kindergarten before she was five since she is a November baby. She absolutely refused to write stories using the words the teacher gave the class. "Writers use their own words," she insisted. I deluded myself that I was articulate until I had Katherine.
Katherine is well known in political blogs as simply Katherine. Katie wouldn't have had the same dignity. She started writing on torture and extraordinary rendition when she was in law school and didn't want to make herself unemployable by revealing her full name. Try a google search on Katherine and "Obisidian Wings."
Katherine once told me: "You are more responsible than any other person for my being able to write like this--in fact, it's not even close." I felt like I had received the Nobel Prize for motherhood. and have contributed significantly to make the world a better place. The entire family is in awe of Katherine. Yet she is the sweetest, most loving woman imaginable who has been an incredible support to me during episodes of my illness. She comes across as quiet and shy.
And yet Katherine's brilliant intensity made her a very challenging child to mother. Thankfully, she was born at home, slept in our bed her first year, nursed for more years than I am willing to admit in a public forum. Because she was my third child, I was much freer to trust my instincts. She is also the daughter most like me. If I wanted to know how I was really feeling when she was a baby, I just had to watch her reactions.
My Katherine stories are often a great comfort to mothers worrying if their child is destined for sainthood or schizophrenia. In my post on my so-called normal children I described her: "The writer had meltdowns because the new washing machine wasn't blue; the pretty blue rental car had vanished; her aunt and uncle didn't have a second child her age; she was not attending a school that closed three years previously; there wasn't enough snow; election day would be a day before her 18th birthday three years from now. Her tantrums were reserved for the existential order of the universe; I could do nothing to assuage her anguish. " When I read her passionate poltical writings, I recognize the same Katherine, who has found the perfect outlet for her intensity.
Marrying the perfect husband at age 23 was the most important thing of all.
Her dad Chris remembers: "Katherine has displayed single-minded determination in everything she has undertaken. She became interested in the planets when she was two. She learned not only the names of the planets and their positions, but also the names of all their satellites. She made up stories about the planets, and at one point every member of the family had a planet name. " I was happy my name was earth.
She started kindergarten before she was five since she is a November baby. She absolutely refused to write stories using the words the teacher gave the class. "Writers use their own words," she insisted. I deluded myself that I was articulate until I had Katherine.
Katherine is well known in political blogs as simply Katherine. Katie wouldn't have had the same dignity. She started writing on torture and extraordinary rendition when she was in law school and didn't want to make herself unemployable by revealing her full name. Try a google search on Katherine and "Obisidian Wings."
Katherine once told me: "You are more responsible than any other person for my being able to write like this--in fact, it's not even close." I felt like I had received the Nobel Prize for motherhood. and have contributed significantly to make the world a better place. The entire family is in awe of Katherine. Yet she is the sweetest, most loving woman imaginable who has been an incredible support to me during episodes of my illness. She comes across as quiet and shy.
And yet Katherine's brilliant intensity made her a very challenging child to mother. Thankfully, she was born at home, slept in our bed her first year, nursed for more years than I am willing to admit in a public forum. Because she was my third child, I was much freer to trust my instincts. She is also the daughter most like me. If I wanted to know how I was really feeling when she was a baby, I just had to watch her reactions.
My Katherine stories are often a great comfort to mothers worrying if their child is destined for sainthood or schizophrenia. In my post on my so-called normal children I described her: "The writer had meltdowns because the new washing machine wasn't blue; the pretty blue rental car had vanished; her aunt and uncle didn't have a second child her age; she was not attending a school that closed three years previously; there wasn't enough snow; election day would be a day before her 18th birthday three years from now. Her tantrums were reserved for the existential order of the universe; I could do nothing to assuage her anguish. " When I read her passionate poltical writings, I recognize the same Katherine, who has found the perfect outlet for her intensity.
Marrying the perfect husband at age 23 was the most important thing of all.
Sisters Bond After a Home Birth
Her three older sisters were there for Carolyn's birth at home in 1982. Often I think the great gift their father and I have given our daughters is their sisters.
Working When Your Children Are Young
The dilemmas facing parents of young children haven't changed since I raised my 4 daughters in the 70s and 80s. My oldest is 34; my 2nd, 32; my 3rd, 29; my 4th, 25. For 18 months after my first daughter was born, I did some free-lance editing. I stayed home full-time until the youngest started first grade, even though I had originally planned to return in work. I fell head over heels in love with mothering my children.
I stayed home full-time for 14 years until the youngest started first grade. I loved staying home with my 4. I did extensive volunteer work: La Leche League, playgroup coordinator, librarian at their schools, childbirth educator, nursery school treasurer and membership chairperson and took a few grad courses in child development. I am sorry my daughters and sons-in-law will not have that option.
In 1988 I start to work part-time in a nearby library and took two courses a semester toward my master's degree in library science. When she was 9, 10, 11, I attended social work school full-time. I find myself re-evaluating the choices I made as I take care of my 6-month-old grandson 3 days a week as my oldest daughter works part-time.
My mom stayed home with her 6 children until my youngest brother (sixth child) went to school full-time. I was just leaving for college, so I always enjoyed having a mom at home. My mom went to college, then grad school, and had a successful teaching career, so I was introduced to the idea that it's never too late. Most of my aunts followed a similar trajectory; my Aunt Rosemarie started law school at age 40 and had a fascinating career as chief counsel to a university president.
Once upon a time, my first husband and I planned ambitious careers as college professors. We would share the care equally of the two children we might or might not have. That didn't happen. I decided I hate Stanford grad school, not being willing to admit that I couldn't tolerate being 3000 miles away from my true love. The Vietnam War and his fight for conscientious objector status interfered with John's academic aspirations. He wound up as a radiation physicist working in cancer treatment; I found a niche editing psychiatry books. John had found his lifetime calling, but I was marking time when I got pregnant. I was tired of editing and knew I had to return to grad school at some point to find a career I loved. Having dropped out of Stanford and Columbia Law School, I suspected I would need therapy before I trackled grad school again.
By time time I returned to work and school, my mom was available after school and on school holidays. I was blessed not to need any alternative child care arrangement. Even so, trying to go to school part-time and work full-time while my 4 were still at home was very stressful for everyone and might have contributed to the slow death of my 28-year-old marriage. My struggles with manic depression affected every career choice. I couldn't manage what many saner mothers could.
We managed on one income by living frugally; certainly we had no savings and lived paycheck to paycheck. We only had one car. We vacationed with my parents at their expense. Dining out was reserved for anniversaries and birthdays. College costs required my financial contribution. I would not have the luxury of staying at home now. For example, my house that cost $86,000 24 years ago is now worth $450,000. All our new neighbors are both working parents.
Things are different for Anne, my oldest. First, I am available to take care of her son; I am not working full-time like my mom was when my girls were young. Second, Anne has a job she loves, for which she has prepared by a master's degree and ten years experience. Her employer knows she is indispensable and wants her on any terms--full-time, part-time, working from home. If I had had a job I loved, and not had to return to grad school to find a field I enjoyed, I probably would have figured out how to work part-time.
Now, I couldn't possibly have afforded 4 children on one income. I am sad that large families seem a thing of the past in the New York metropolitan area. I suspect two of my girls would have adjusted readily to day care, but two wouldn't. Full-time group child care is emotionally expensive for some young children. My oldest had difficulty adjusting to all-day kindergarten. When I asked her why she was being so impossible, she told me, "I used all my goodness up in school."
But every family has to find what works for them. In an ideal world both parents would have flexible schedules so they would have more time at home. One of the many things that distresses me about the mommy wars is how it seems taken for granted that dads can't and don't want to stay home
I stayed home full-time for 14 years until the youngest started first grade. I loved staying home with my 4. I did extensive volunteer work: La Leche League, playgroup coordinator, librarian at their schools, childbirth educator, nursery school treasurer and membership chairperson and took a few grad courses in child development. I am sorry my daughters and sons-in-law will not have that option.
In 1988 I start to work part-time in a nearby library and took two courses a semester toward my master's degree in library science. When she was 9, 10, 11, I attended social work school full-time. I find myself re-evaluating the choices I made as I take care of my 6-month-old grandson 3 days a week as my oldest daughter works part-time.
My mom stayed home with her 6 children until my youngest brother (sixth child) went to school full-time. I was just leaving for college, so I always enjoyed having a mom at home. My mom went to college, then grad school, and had a successful teaching career, so I was introduced to the idea that it's never too late. Most of my aunts followed a similar trajectory; my Aunt Rosemarie started law school at age 40 and had a fascinating career as chief counsel to a university president.
Once upon a time, my first husband and I planned ambitious careers as college professors. We would share the care equally of the two children we might or might not have. That didn't happen. I decided I hate Stanford grad school, not being willing to admit that I couldn't tolerate being 3000 miles away from my true love. The Vietnam War and his fight for conscientious objector status interfered with John's academic aspirations. He wound up as a radiation physicist working in cancer treatment; I found a niche editing psychiatry books. John had found his lifetime calling, but I was marking time when I got pregnant. I was tired of editing and knew I had to return to grad school at some point to find a career I loved. Having dropped out of Stanford and Columbia Law School, I suspected I would need therapy before I trackled grad school again.
By time time I returned to work and school, my mom was available after school and on school holidays. I was blessed not to need any alternative child care arrangement. Even so, trying to go to school part-time and work full-time while my 4 were still at home was very stressful for everyone and might have contributed to the slow death of my 28-year-old marriage. My struggles with manic depression affected every career choice. I couldn't manage what many saner mothers could.
We managed on one income by living frugally; certainly we had no savings and lived paycheck to paycheck. We only had one car. We vacationed with my parents at their expense. Dining out was reserved for anniversaries and birthdays. College costs required my financial contribution. I would not have the luxury of staying at home now. For example, my house that cost $86,000 24 years ago is now worth $450,000. All our new neighbors are both working parents.
Things are different for Anne, my oldest. First, I am available to take care of her son; I am not working full-time like my mom was when my girls were young. Second, Anne has a job she loves, for which she has prepared by a master's degree and ten years experience. Her employer knows she is indispensable and wants her on any terms--full-time, part-time, working from home. If I had had a job I loved, and not had to return to grad school to find a field I enjoyed, I probably would have figured out how to work part-time.
Now, I couldn't possibly have afforded 4 children on one income. I am sad that large families seem a thing of the past in the New York metropolitan area. I suspect two of my girls would have adjusted readily to day care, but two wouldn't. Full-time group child care is emotionally expensive for some young children. My oldest had difficulty adjusting to all-day kindergarten. When I asked her why she was being so impossible, she told me, "I used all my goodness up in school."
But every family has to find what works for them. In an ideal world both parents would have flexible schedules so they would have more time at home. One of the many things that distresses me about the mommy wars is how it seems taken for granted that dads can't and don't want to stay home
June 28, 2008
Fight for the Issues, Not the Pols
Big Tent Democrat of Talk Left expresses an important truth for supporters of any candidate:
Pols are pols and do what they do. That's why as citizens and activists we must act for issues, not pols:
As citizens and activists, our allegiances have to be to the issues we believe in. I am a partisan Democrat it is true. But the reason I am is because I know who we can pressure to do the right thing some of the times. Republicans aren't them. But that does not mean we accept the failings of our Democrats. There is nothing more important that we can do, as citizens, activists or bloggers than fight to pressure DEMOCRATS to do the right thing on OUR issues.
And this is true in every context I think. Be it pressing the Speaker or the Senate majority leader, or the new hope running for President. There is nothing more important we can do. Nothing. It's more important BY FAR than "fighting" for your favorite pol because your favorite pol will ALWAYS, I mean ALWAYS, disappoint you.
In the middle of primary fights, citizens, activists and bloggers like to think their guy or woman is different. They are going to change the way politics works. They are going to not disappoint. In short, they are not going to be pols. That is, in a word, idiotic.
Yes, they are all pols. And they do what they do. Do not fight for pols. Fight for the issues you care about. That often means fighting for a pol of course. But remember, you are fighting for the issues. Not the pols.
Pols are pols and do what they do. That's why as citizens and activists we must act for issues, not pols:
As citizens and activists, our allegiances have to be to the issues we believe in. I am a partisan Democrat it is true. But the reason I am is because I know who we can pressure to do the right thing some of the times. Republicans aren't them. But that does not mean we accept the failings of our Democrats. There is nothing more important that we can do, as citizens, activists or bloggers than fight to pressure DEMOCRATS to do the right thing on OUR issues.
And this is true in every context I think. Be it pressing the Speaker or the Senate majority leader, or the new hope running for President. There is nothing more important we can do. Nothing. It's more important BY FAR than "fighting" for your favorite pol because your favorite pol will ALWAYS, I mean ALWAYS, disappoint you.
In the middle of primary fights, citizens, activists and bloggers like to think their guy or woman is different. They are going to change the way politics works. They are going to not disappoint. In short, they are not going to be pols. That is, in a word, idiotic.
Yes, they are all pols. And they do what they do. Do not fight for pols. Fight for the issues you care about. That often means fighting for a pol of course. But remember, you are fighting for the issues. Not the pols.
June 22, 2008
Older White Feminist
Be judicious about joining existing Obama groups rather than beginning you own on Obama's website, unless you habor a secret ambition to be a Rorschach test. The problem is, most groups have few blog articles, and you cannot read the listserv's email until you have joined. The Obama site has approved all my requests for starting new groups.
Since I joined my Long Island Obama group, I have annoyed one of the regular posters who had been for Obama all along.
This is my high crime and misdemanor::
A reference librarian, I have already realized that the mybarackobama website is not quite state of the art. My only being able to send a message to ten friends at a time is frustrating. I keep losing what I write on blogs, group descriptions, and messages because suddenly another page opens up. Communicating through messages on your website is cumbersome.There is no real word processing functionality, no way of easily linking within messages and blog comments. Google offers much better alternatives--gmail, reader, chat, groups, calendar, docs and spreadsheets where you can collaborate in real time. Google Apps is another possibility for organizers. There is a wonderful world of opportunities and the Obama campaign is not making impressive use of them. Has anyone considered exploring them?
I was astonished by this women's letter to the whole group.
I have watched w/ sadness as this group has been virtually ripped
apart over the past several days mostly by the actions of a newcomer.
Now we have a posting using this list serve to attack the campaign
website & invite people to use other alternatives.
So whoever it was who "busted us" is there any way to exclude a
person who obviously has some agenda other than supporting Obama.
Appalled, I temporarily left the group:
I hope you're proud of driving me from this group. My sharing my internet and librarian expertise is seen as attacking the website rather than improving it. I do have my own agenda--growing a revolution that will make America a family-friendly society for my grandchildren. I consider Obama an essential leader of that revolution. I have no idea if you speak but the group, but I have no interest replacing Hillary as your personal Rorschach test.
Criticizing your candidate's inadequacies and making helpful suggestions is the best way of supporting him. At least have the courage to name names. You certainly proved how
sound my instinct was on the necessity of separate Hillary groups.
Later, I realized that I had cut off my nose to spite my face. Unless I was a member of this blog, I couldn't tell my Long Island blog about what's happening. I am sure things will get better, but we are all a bit raw still. I must have done something to this poster in a previous lifetime. She asks me to leave another group as well. I wish I could remember my crime. Mary is generally well behaved, but Joan gets somewhat unruly::)
Since I joined my Long Island Obama group, I have annoyed one of the regular posters who had been for Obama all along.
This is my high crime and misdemanor::
A reference librarian, I have already realized that the mybarackobama website is not quite state of the art. My only being able to send a message to ten friends at a time is frustrating. I keep losing what I write on blogs, group descriptions, and messages because suddenly another page opens up. Communicating through messages on your website is cumbersome.There is no real word processing functionality, no way of easily linking within messages and blog comments. Google offers much better alternatives--gmail, reader, chat, groups, calendar, docs and spreadsheets where you can collaborate in real time. Google Apps is another possibility for organizers. There is a wonderful world of opportunities and the Obama campaign is not making impressive use of them. Has anyone considered exploring them?
I was astonished by this women's letter to the whole group.
I have watched w/ sadness as this group has been virtually ripped
apart over the past several days mostly by the actions of a newcomer.
Now we have a posting using this list serve to attack the campaign
website & invite people to use other alternatives.
So whoever it was who "busted us" is there any way to exclude a
person who obviously has some agenda other than supporting Obama.
Appalled, I temporarily left the group:
I hope you're proud of driving me from this group. My sharing my internet and librarian expertise is seen as attacking the website rather than improving it. I do have my own agenda--growing a revolution that will make America a family-friendly society for my grandchildren. I consider Obama an essential leader of that revolution. I have no idea if you speak but the group, but I have no interest replacing Hillary as your personal Rorschach test.
Criticizing your candidate's inadequacies and making helpful suggestions is the best way of supporting him. At least have the courage to name names. You certainly proved how
sound my instinct was on the necessity of separate Hillary groups.
Later, I realized that I had cut off my nose to spite my face. Unless I was a member of this blog, I couldn't tell my Long Island blog about what's happening. I am sure things will get better, but we are all a bit raw still. I must have done something to this poster in a previous lifetime. She asks me to leave another group as well. I wish I could remember my crime. Mary is generally well behaved, but Joan gets somewhat unruly::)
Rorschach Test
Be judicious about joining existing Obama groups rather than beginning you own on Obama's website, unless you habor a secret ambition to be a Rorschach test. The problem is, most groups have few blog articles, and you cannot read the listserv's email until you have joined. The Obama site has approved all my requests for starting new groups.
Since I joined my Long Island Obama group, I have annoyed one of the regular posters who had been for Obama all along.
This is my high crime and misdemanor::
A reference librarian, I have already realized that the mybarackobama website is not quite state of the art. My only being able to send a message to ten friends at a time is frustrating. I keep losing what I write on blogs, group descriptions, and messages because suddenly another page opens up. Communicating through messages on your website is cumbersome.There is no real word processing functionality, no way of easily linking within messages and blog comments. Google offers much better alternatives--gmail, reader, chat, groups, calendar, docs and spreadsheets where you can collaborate in real time. Google Apps is another possibility for organizers. There is a wonderful world of opportunities and the Obama campaign is not making impressive use of them. Has anyone considered exploring them?
I was astonished by this women's letter to the whole group.
I have watched w/ sadness as this group has been virtually ripped
apart over the past several days mostly by the actions of a newcomer.
Now we have a posting using this list serve to attack the campaign
website & invite people to use other alternatives.
So whoever it was who "busted us" is there any way to exclude a
person who obviously has some agenda other than supporting Obama.
Appalled, I temporarily left the group:
I hope you're proud of driving me from this group. My sharing my internet and librarian expertise is seen as attacking the website rather than improving it. I do have my own agenda--growing a revolution that will make America a family-friendly society for my grandchildren. I consider Obama an essential leader of that revolution. I have no idea if you speak but the group, but I have no interest replacing Hillary as your personal Rorschach test.
Criticizing your candidate's inadequacies and making helpful suggestions is the best way of supporting him. At least have the courage to name names. You certainly proved how
sound my instinct was on the necessity of separate Hillary groups.
Later, I realized that I had cut off my nose to spite my face. Unless I was a member of this blog, I couldn't tell my Long Island blog about what's happening. I am sure things will get better, but we are all a bit raw still. I must have done something to this poster in a previous lifetime. She asks me to leave another group as well. I wish I could remember my crime. Mary is generally well behaved, but Joan gets somewhat unruly::)
Since I joined my Long Island Obama group, I have annoyed one of the regular posters who had been for Obama all along.
This is my high crime and misdemanor::
A reference librarian, I have already realized that the mybarackobama website is not quite state of the art. My only being able to send a message to ten friends at a time is frustrating. I keep losing what I write on blogs, group descriptions, and messages because suddenly another page opens up. Communicating through messages on your website is cumbersome.There is no real word processing functionality, no way of easily linking within messages and blog comments. Google offers much better alternatives--gmail, reader, chat, groups, calendar, docs and spreadsheets where you can collaborate in real time. Google Apps is another possibility for organizers. There is a wonderful world of opportunities and the Obama campaign is not making impressive use of them. Has anyone considered exploring them?
I was astonished by this women's letter to the whole group.
I have watched w/ sadness as this group has been virtually ripped
apart over the past several days mostly by the actions of a newcomer.
Now we have a posting using this list serve to attack the campaign
website & invite people to use other alternatives.
So whoever it was who "busted us" is there any way to exclude a
person who obviously has some agenda other than supporting Obama.
Appalled, I temporarily left the group:
I hope you're proud of driving me from this group. My sharing my internet and librarian expertise is seen as attacking the website rather than improving it. I do have my own agenda--growing a revolution that will make America a family-friendly society for my grandchildren. I consider Obama an essential leader of that revolution. I have no idea if you speak but the group, but I have no interest replacing Hillary as your personal Rorschach test.
Criticizing your candidate's inadequacies and making helpful suggestions is the best way of supporting him. At least have the courage to name names. You certainly proved how
sound my instinct was on the necessity of separate Hillary groups.
Later, I realized that I had cut off my nose to spite my face. Unless I was a member of this blog, I couldn't tell my Long Island blog about what's happening. I am sure things will get better, but we are all a bit raw still. I must have done something to this poster in a previous lifetime. She asks me to leave another group as well. I wish I could remember my crime. Mary is generally well behaved, but Joan gets somewhat unruly::)
Unseemly Older Women
want to share with you my reply to a blog post on Obama's site castigating unseemly and ridiculous older women who supported Hillary and now want their voices and ideas taken seriously by Obama.
"Comments like this alienate Hillary supporters. It feels like you are more interested in cutting older women down to size than winning the election. I hate it when women accuse other women of pity parties. Being called "honey" in political debate is as annoying as being called "sweetie" if you are a reporter asking a serious question.
It is naive to think problems with men will disappear if women just start negotiating and stop fighting. The problem is not with specific men; it is with American society. Younger women telling themselves the battle has been won might not realize the importance of government and social policies that make it possible for both men and women to combine careers with caregiving, either of children or their aging parents.
My daughters and their friends are just beginning to have children. Suddenly they realize the feminist battles have just begun. Women of my age spend more time talking about their parents than their children because trying to continue their careers and take care of failing parents is a nightmare. As a fervent young feminist in the late 60s and early 70s, I never would have believed in my worst nightmares that the US woud be about 160th in the world in maternity leave and parent-friendly policies when I became a grandmother one year ago..
I cannot understand why both Obama and Clinton did not make this a major issue.
You comment:"It looks unseemly and ridiculous for someone your age." I can't decide if I am age 62 or the age of my 46-year-old English husband born on the fourth of July, exactly one month before Obama. I expect any woman who could persuade an Englishman 16 years younger to give up home and country for her can't be a dried up old hag.I haven't been admonished about being unseemly in about 40 years. I never once used that word to clip the wings of my four daughters and they have flown very high. My restrainst was saintly because their behavior toward their mother is the polar opposite of seemly.
"Comments like this alienate Hillary supporters. It feels like you are more interested in cutting older women down to size than winning the election. I hate it when women accuse other women of pity parties. Being called "honey" in political debate is as annoying as being called "sweetie" if you are a reporter asking a serious question.
It is naive to think problems with men will disappear if women just start negotiating and stop fighting. The problem is not with specific men; it is with American society. Younger women telling themselves the battle has been won might not realize the importance of government and social policies that make it possible for both men and women to combine careers with caregiving, either of children or their aging parents.
My daughters and their friends are just beginning to have children. Suddenly they realize the feminist battles have just begun. Women of my age spend more time talking about their parents than their children because trying to continue their careers and take care of failing parents is a nightmare. As a fervent young feminist in the late 60s and early 70s, I never would have believed in my worst nightmares that the US woud be about 160th in the world in maternity leave and parent-friendly policies when I became a grandmother one year ago..
I cannot understand why both Obama and Clinton did not make this a major issue.
You comment:"It looks unseemly and ridiculous for someone your age." I can't decide if I am age 62 or the age of my 46-year-old English husband born on the fourth of July, exactly one month before Obama. I expect any woman who could persuade an Englishman 16 years younger to give up home and country for her can't be a dried up old hag.I haven't been admonished about being unseemly in about 40 years. I never once used that word to clip the wings of my four daughters and they have flown very high. My restrainst was saintly because their behavior toward their mother is the polar opposite of seemly.
Girly Clothes and Babies
I have abandoned this blog since last winter. I have concentrated on political blogging and personal family blogging about my one-year-old grandson. I just returned from a baby shower for my second daughter, Michelle, who is expecting a girl at the end of August (the family calls the baby Penelope). My third daughter, Rose, is expecting a baby the beginning of December. Five of Michelle's friends who were at the shower have babies, so I had wonderful discussions about babies/careers/husbands.
I noticed that Michelle's baby got many more pink girly clothes than the young feminists of my generation would have felt politically correct to give to a friend's baby. I am not a fan of pastels for either boys or girls. I did adore the red fleece smocked dress she received. I have always bought books, music, and dvds as presents. Since my daughters were about 8, I would never have the audacity to select clothes for them.
I was not a clothes mommy and I will not be a clothes grandmother. Penny's 3 aunts and I chipped in for a state of the art baby carrier. I also gave her a Rosemary Wells's first Mother Goose, Peter, Paul and Mommy, and Woody Guthrie's Songs for Mother and Child.
June 21, 2008
Why I Support Obama When I Voted for Clinton
Senator Clinton says it best:
I entered this race because I have an old-fashioned conviction that public service is about helping people solve their problems and live their dreams. I've had every opportunity and blessing in my own life, and I want the same for all Americans.
And until that day comes, you'll always find me on the front lines of democracy, fighting for the future.
The way to continue our fight now, to accomplish the goals for which we stand is to take our energy, our passion, our strength, and do all we can to help elect Barack Obama the next president of the United States.
You know, I've been involved in politics and public life in one way or another for four decades. And during those ... during those 40 years our country has voted 10 times for president. Democrats won only three of those times, and the man who won two of those elections is with us today.
We made tremendous progress during the '90s under a Democratic president, with a flourishing economy and our leadership for peace and security respected around the world.
Just think how much more progress we could have made over the past 40 years if we'd had a Democratic president. Think about the lost opportunities of these past seven years on the environment and the economy, on health care and civil rights, on education, foreign policy and the Supreme Court.
Imagine how far ... we could have come, how much we could have achieved if we had just had a Democrat in the White House.
We cannot let this moment slip away. We have come too far and accomplished too much.
So I want to say to my supporters: When you hear people saying or think to yourself, If only, or, What if, I say, please, don't go there. Every moment wasted looking back keeps us from moving forward.
Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been. We have to work together for what still can be. And that is why I will work my heart out to make sure that Senator Obama is our next president.
I entered this race because I have an old-fashioned conviction that public service is about helping people solve their problems and live their dreams. I've had every opportunity and blessing in my own life, and I want the same for all Americans.
And until that day comes, you'll always find me on the front lines of democracy, fighting for the future.
The way to continue our fight now, to accomplish the goals for which we stand is to take our energy, our passion, our strength, and do all we can to help elect Barack Obama the next president of the United States.
You know, I've been involved in politics and public life in one way or another for four decades. And during those ... during those 40 years our country has voted 10 times for president. Democrats won only three of those times, and the man who won two of those elections is with us today.
We made tremendous progress during the '90s under a Democratic president, with a flourishing economy and our leadership for peace and security respected around the world.
Just think how much more progress we could have made over the past 40 years if we'd had a Democratic president. Think about the lost opportunities of these past seven years on the environment and the economy, on health care and civil rights, on education, foreign policy and the Supreme Court.
Imagine how far ... we could have come, how much we could have achieved if we had just had a Democrat in the White House.
We cannot let this moment slip away. We have come too far and accomplished too much.
So I want to say to my supporters: When you hear people saying or think to yourself, If only, or, What if, I say, please, don't go there. Every moment wasted looking back keeps us from moving forward.
Life is too short, time is too precious, and the stakes are too high to dwell on what might have been. We have to work together for what still can be. And that is why I will work my heart out to make sure that Senator Obama is our next president.
My Daughter (An Obama Supporter) and I Cried
From Hillary's Concession Speech
Now, on a personal note, when I was asked what it means to be a woman running for president, I always gave the same answer, that I was proud to be running as a woman, but I was running because I thought I'd be the best president. But...But I am a woman and, like millions of women, I know there are still barriers and biases out there, often unconscious, and I want to build an America that respects and embraces the potential of every last one of us.
I ran as a daughter who benefited from opportunities my mother never dreamed of. I ran as a mother who worries about my daughter's future and a mother who wants to leave all children brighter tomorrows. To build that future I see, we must make sure that women and men alike understand the struggles of their grandmothers and their mothers, and that women enjoy equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal respect.
Let us resolve and work toward achieving very simple propositions: There are no acceptable limits, and there are no acceptable prejudices in the 21st century in our country.
You can be so proud that, from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories..... unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the president of the United States. And that is truly remarkable, my friends.
To those who are disappointed that we couldn't go all of the way, especially the young people who put so much into this campaign, it would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.
Always aim high, work hard, and care deeply about what you believe in. And, when you stumble, keep faith. And, when you're knocked down, get right back up and never listen to anyone who says you can't or shouldn't go on.
As we gather here today in this historic, magnificent building, the 50th woman to leave this Earth is orbiting overhead. If we can blast 50 women into space, we will someday launch a woman into the White House. Although we weren't able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it's got about 18 million cracks in it...and the light is shining through like never before, filling us all with the hope and the sure knowledge that the path will be a little easier next time.
That has always been the history of progress in America. Think of the suffragists who gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848 and those who kept fighting until women could cast their votes.
Think of the abolitionists who struggled and died to see the end of slavery. Think of the civil rights heroes and foot soldiers who marched, protested, and risked their lives to bring about the end of segregation and Jim Crow.
Because of them, I grew up taking for granted that women could vote and, because of them, my daughter grew up taking for granted that children of all colors could go to school together.
Because of them, Barack Obama and I could wage a hard-fought campaign for the Democratic nomination. Because of them and because of you, children today will grow up taking for granted that an African-American or a woman can, yes, become the president of the United States.
And so...
... when that day arrives, and a woman takes the oath of office as our president, we will all stand taller, proud of the values of our nation, proud that every little girl can dream big and that her dreams can come true in America.
Now, on a personal note, when I was asked what it means to be a woman running for president, I always gave the same answer, that I was proud to be running as a woman, but I was running because I thought I'd be the best president. But...But I am a woman and, like millions of women, I know there are still barriers and biases out there, often unconscious, and I want to build an America that respects and embraces the potential of every last one of us.
I ran as a daughter who benefited from opportunities my mother never dreamed of. I ran as a mother who worries about my daughter's future and a mother who wants to leave all children brighter tomorrows. To build that future I see, we must make sure that women and men alike understand the struggles of their grandmothers and their mothers, and that women enjoy equal opportunities, equal pay, and equal respect.
Let us resolve and work toward achieving very simple propositions: There are no acceptable limits, and there are no acceptable prejudices in the 21st century in our country.
You can be so proud that, from now on, it will be unremarkable for a woman to win primary state victories..... unremarkable to have a woman in a close race to be our nominee, unremarkable to think that a woman can be the president of the United States. And that is truly remarkable, my friends.
To those who are disappointed that we couldn't go all of the way, especially the young people who put so much into this campaign, it would break my heart if, in falling short of my goal, I in any way discouraged any of you from pursuing yours.
Always aim high, work hard, and care deeply about what you believe in. And, when you stumble, keep faith. And, when you're knocked down, get right back up and never listen to anyone who says you can't or shouldn't go on.
As we gather here today in this historic, magnificent building, the 50th woman to leave this Earth is orbiting overhead. If we can blast 50 women into space, we will someday launch a woman into the White House. Although we weren't able to shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling this time, thanks to you, it's got about 18 million cracks in it...and the light is shining through like never before, filling us all with the hope and the sure knowledge that the path will be a little easier next time.
That has always been the history of progress in America. Think of the suffragists who gathered at Seneca Falls in 1848 and those who kept fighting until women could cast their votes.
Think of the abolitionists who struggled and died to see the end of slavery. Think of the civil rights heroes and foot soldiers who marched, protested, and risked their lives to bring about the end of segregation and Jim Crow.
Because of them, I grew up taking for granted that women could vote and, because of them, my daughter grew up taking for granted that children of all colors could go to school together.
Because of them, Barack Obama and I could wage a hard-fought campaign for the Democratic nomination. Because of them and because of you, children today will grow up taking for granted that an African-American or a woman can, yes, become the president of the United States.
And so...
... when that day arrives, and a woman takes the oath of office as our president, we will all stand taller, proud of the values of our nation, proud that every little girl can dream big and that her dreams can come true in America.
Letter to Progressive Bloggers
I could never satisfactorily explain to my family of Obama supporters why I was supporting Clinton because my political views were so much more similar to Obama's. I had some difficulty understanding it myself. I did think Hillary would make an excellent president; I greatly admired her brains, hard work, and indomitable spirit. Electing a qualified women president was tremendously important to me. I was convinced it would benefit women around the world in ways we might not be able to predict. I would not have supported any Republican woman for president. Obama seemed too much of an unknown. I preferred Clinton's health platform.
I want to share with you a letter I posted to several progressive blogs I have been avoiding for 6 months. To be a feminist for Hillary in the progressive blogosphere has been a bruising, lonely experience. Here is what I wrote:
"Hillary supporters are more likely to come around and work for Obama if they swear off reading progressive blogs for a month or two. They would be far better off joining Barack Obama's online community. Many of us perceived that too many progressive blogs became almost as hurtful and sexist as the mass media, albeit unconsciously in some instances. Saying it was unconscious is being very conciliatory, but I am a 62-year-old social worker and can afford to be kind.
Too many Hillary supporters stopped reading and commenting on their previous favorite blogs. We stopped trying to explain what sexism was and why it was so hurtful. Fewer women seem to love intellectual combat. I am ashamed to admit that I did too. Fancying myself as a member of the new creative class, I had suddenly become a low-information gullible. What a dismal fate for a reference librarian!
An ambivalent Hillary supporter, I tried rather stridently to discuss feminism and the election on several blogs in January. I then disappeared for five months and only reappeared when I had become an Obama supporter. I love to argue and debate. And yet I slunk away, muzzling myself. I even shut down my political blog.
The progressive blogosphere is bleeding and needs healing. To quote Digby:
"Clinton's campaign ripped open a hole in our culture and forced us to look inside. And what we found was a simmering cauldron of crude, sophomoric sexism and ugly misogyny that a lot of us knew existed but didn't realize was still so socially acceptable that it could be broadcast on national television and garner nary a complaint from anybody but a few internet scolds like me. "
Hillary feminists do need to take some responsibility for what happened in the netroots. If we had stayed to debate and educate, the wounds might not have been as deep. Most of us lacked Hillary's indomitable fighting spirit. Need I say that I am working my heart out for Obama. But the most helpful thing I can do right now is help Obama supporters understand the bitterness and pain of women HIllary supporters."
I shared this letter on my Obama blog, adding: "I realize that I was still a stranger in a strange land at mybarackobama. I have resolved to bite my tongue even if smoke is coming out of my ears and try to help Obama and Hillary supporters listen to and understand each other so they can unite to defeat John McCain. This time I won't slunk away or muzzle my blog. It is far easier to support a Democratic candidate against McCain than a Democratic candidate against another Democratic candidate when their positions are similar. I would prefer not to start a debate on whether their positions were that similar:)
I want to share with you a letter I posted to several progressive blogs I have been avoiding for 6 months. To be a feminist for Hillary in the progressive blogosphere has been a bruising, lonely experience. Here is what I wrote:
"Hillary supporters are more likely to come around and work for Obama if they swear off reading progressive blogs for a month or two. They would be far better off joining Barack Obama's online community. Many of us perceived that too many progressive blogs became almost as hurtful and sexist as the mass media, albeit unconsciously in some instances. Saying it was unconscious is being very conciliatory, but I am a 62-year-old social worker and can afford to be kind.
Too many Hillary supporters stopped reading and commenting on their previous favorite blogs. We stopped trying to explain what sexism was and why it was so hurtful. Fewer women seem to love intellectual combat. I am ashamed to admit that I did too. Fancying myself as a member of the new creative class, I had suddenly become a low-information gullible. What a dismal fate for a reference librarian!
An ambivalent Hillary supporter, I tried rather stridently to discuss feminism and the election on several blogs in January. I then disappeared for five months and only reappeared when I had become an Obama supporter. I love to argue and debate. And yet I slunk away, muzzling myself. I even shut down my political blog.
The progressive blogosphere is bleeding and needs healing. To quote Digby:
"Clinton's campaign ripped open a hole in our culture and forced us to look inside. And what we found was a simmering cauldron of crude, sophomoric sexism and ugly misogyny that a lot of us knew existed but didn't realize was still so socially acceptable that it could be broadcast on national television and garner nary a complaint from anybody but a few internet scolds like me. "
Hillary feminists do need to take some responsibility for what happened in the netroots. If we had stayed to debate and educate, the wounds might not have been as deep. Most of us lacked Hillary's indomitable fighting spirit. Need I say that I am working my heart out for Obama. But the most helpful thing I can do right now is help Obama supporters understand the bitterness and pain of women HIllary supporters."
I shared this letter on my Obama blog, adding: "I realize that I was still a stranger in a strange land at mybarackobama. I have resolved to bite my tongue even if smoke is coming out of my ears and try to help Obama and Hillary supporters listen to and understand each other so they can unite to defeat John McCain. This time I won't slunk away or muzzle my blog. It is far easier to support a Democratic candidate against McCain than a Democratic candidate against another Democratic candidate when their positions are similar. I would prefer not to start a debate on whether their positions were that similar:)
June 20, 2008
Equality Feminism and Difference Feminism
This was written in response to a perceptive critique of my feminist rants. I entirely agree with you "that being a feminist means rejecting some of what feminism had to say over the past 40 years." What has accompanied the success of feminism is less appreciation and support for the vitally important work of caregiving. Years of child care and elder care are not seen as the excellent job qualification they so often are. Christian fundamentalists have valid points about the neglect of children and elders in today's post-feminist society. We cannot abandon this issue to them.
Thank you for bringing up the illuminating distinction between equality feminism (women treated the same as men) and difference feminism (specific role differences require specific protection for women to allow them to participate equally).What is biology and what is learned gender role in the perceived differences between men and women? Because I have 5 very different brothers and 4 very different daughters, I question overemphasis on innate differences. The spread of differences among people of the same sex seem as great or greater as the differences between the sexes.
At 1 year, my grandson clearly resembles his adventurous, world-traveling mother; he is as different from two of his aunts as his mother is. I am overgeneralizing; his mother didn't require us to remove all knobs from the gas stove, but his aunt did). He does seem more interested in being as loud as possible. I never realized how hard one can bang a xyophone. We would need several generations of both men and women equally involved in raising young children to make any significant judgment about innate sex differences.
Childbearing shifts the equation. Doctors advocate nursing for a year as the ultimate preventive health measure. So for about two years per child, women do need special accommodations. Europe in general has much better support for new mothers. They recognize that everyone benefits if new parents can afford to bond with their newborns and children receive as much parental care as possible in the early years. Fathers and mothers are equally capable of parenting young children; exclusive breastfeeding only last six months. Many heroic women now manage to work full time and give their infants only their own milk.
Day care of infants and toddlers, if done right, is usually prohibitively expensive financially. Babies usually get sick far more often in day care, and their parents have to scramble for alternatives just as their babies are needier and fussier. Premature group care is frequently emotionally expensive for infants and toddlers. My oldest brilliantly explained her daily meltdown after full-day kindergarten: "Mommy I used all my goodness up at school." Society needs to make changes so that one or both parents could work a part-time and/or home-based schedule in their children's earliest years without losing their benefits or harming their possibilities for career advancement, if that is their choice. Onsite day care should be an alternative offered by all large enough companies and organizations.
June 18, 2008
Smashing Gender Stereotypes
If this morning in the playground is any proof, every kid in Chelsea (boys and girls) has been yearning for this stroller. It doesn't have princesses, only butterflies. It is wonderfully lightweight, easily fits in the bottom of the stroller, can be lifted by one adult finger. Because it is so lightweight, it blows around the playground which amused Nate. He was generous enough to let at least 10 separate kids play with it. There is a little back basket, where he was depositing all the stuff he picks up in the playground. Gum is his new fascination.At least consciously, i did not set out to break gender barriers; that was my only choice at BuyBuyBaby. The lucky baby is the sea otter puppet Patricia got Nate for this birthday. Nate particularly liked giving dinosaurs rides.
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