Assertions on women, guilt and being a mom

I am a woman (or a silly girl in a 30-something woman's body), so I feel I am allowed to make a few assertions about my own gender.

We often lash out when feeling cornered and guilty about some of our choices, and especially when we feel those choices are questioned. And, for those of us women that are also moms we often feel as if we’re never making the right choice for our children. And, of course, that makes us feel guilty and - for some of us - it makes us irrationally lash out, intentional or not.

There was a post yesterday on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog titled “A Dear SAHM Mom Letter”. The post is a note addressed to a few specific SAHMs (Stay at Home Moms) that had either unknowingly or passive aggressively insulted the blogger, who works a full time job. The letter ignited a firestorm of comments from SAHMs and FTWMs (Full Time Working Moms) alike. I assert that many of these passionate feelings of agreement or dissent stem from guilt in one shape or another.

And now I speak only for me: I assert that these types of comments or feelings are coming from a place of guilt because I feel guilty every day about some parenting choice that I have made. And, inevitably, I play the “grass is always greener” game in my head and then talk myself back into "being right" about my own personal decision to work, always ending up right back in my own green yard (yet still feeling guilty nonetheless).

But after reading the post and all the comments what I really realize is that there is no right or wrong. For anyone. Including me. Just our choices trying to match up to the expectations we have for ourselves as parents.

Finally, I assert that our expectations for ourselves are crazy. How can we possibly put expectations on others if we aren't even reasonable with ourselves? If we all cut ourselves -- and the moms around us -- some slack, it might go a long way in uniting us instead of dividing us.

Horton Review. We went to see it, will you?

First – NO SPOILERS HERE (even though you've probably read the book 543 times).

Took our kids to see the latest Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hears a Who, to make it onto the big screen and it was a great time. It’s worth a post for this proud mom because it’s the first time we’ve taken our son to the theater for a flick (he's just about three). I think he was most excited to eat Red Vines (a family tradition), rather than being excited for his first movie but oh well.

Horton was the third trip to the movies for my daughter (four and a half), although she's made it through only one other full length feature in a theater before. Our first try, we had to leave Ratatouille when the rat kept biting the chef about 30 minutes into the flick. My daughter insisted the rat was mean and that we should leave. So we left and went and shared an ice cream sundae instead. For the other movie she remained engaged throughout, see here. It might surprise you. But back to the topic at hand.

My son and daughter cackled their brains out for the first 15 minutes of the movie. For me, it was the truest parental bliss ever watching our two kids giggle and clutch at each other out of pure joy like a pair of best friends having the time of their lives.

As the storyline matured, my daughter became completely entranced, taking in every line, hanging on every joke and taking care to tell me when one of the characters was being mean. She did like to point out on a few occasions that in the book she reads at home Horton sits on an egg and that there is no egg in this movie.

Meanwhile, my son began to fidget around…asking when Dr. Seuss would appear and he became very disappointed when he discovered Dr. Seuss would not be appearing on the screen. (Bets placed now our guy is a performer and not a behind the scenes guy.) Fast forward ~30 minutes. This disappointment led to being thirsty, then to having to use the potty and then to playing video games out in the arcade instead of watching the movie. Maybe next time…

Take away: For the four year old in your life, this is definitely an RBM endorsed flick.

Identity Crisis

If you’ve been here before, you’ll notice that I’ve had a blogger identity crisis. I’ve redone the page, as you can see, to reflect my morphing online identity.

It all started when I stopped drinking Red Bull. HOLD. Don’t get the wrong idea. I am still a caffeine freak. Red Bull itself simply became too pricey.

I considered renaming the whole blog but nothing else felt right. I have become kinda attached to signing all my comments, posts, etc. “RBM” and it has become my personal online identity.

So I’m RBM. But I drink Rock Star, Full Throttle, or Max Velocity – whatever is on sale that week. I’ll have to be content with that… until I can get Red Bull to sponsor me that is. ;-)