A Mother's Work Meme

I’ve been tagged in A Mother’s Work Meme by More Than A Mum. The Meme was established by Mother. Wife. Me and Pret-A-Mummy to discuss whether or not society values and supports mothers. You can catch up on the original meme here: http://motherwifeme.com/2012/02/23/a-mothers-work-meme/

Here are the rules….

Rules:

Please post the rules

Answer the questions in as much or as little detail as suits you

Leave a comment on mother.wife.me so we can keep track of the meme

Tag 3 people and link to them on your blog

Let them know you tagged them

Tweet loudly about taking part (well ok, that isn’t a rule, but how about if we start a hashtag – #amothersworkmeme)

Questions:

1.  Did you work before becoming a mum?

Yes, I worked for nearly 15 years before becoming a mum; first in Arts Admin, then as a teacher of English and History, mostly in prep schools, then as a school librarian and assistant house mistress in a secondary boarding school. This was the job I was doing when I became pregnant; it was a residential job, so it was to a flat in the boarding house that I came home from hospital with my baby!

2.  What is your current situation?

I am now a full-time SAHM. I intended to return to work after the birth of my first child, but I was hit by post-natal depression, and when the time came, I lasted only one day at work before being signed off sick. After 6 weeks of agonizing, I accepted that I needed to focus on my recovery and my family, and I resigned. My husband abandoned his PhD and focused his efforts on more lucrative work, we cashed in our savings to tide us over, and left the school for good. 

Nearly 5 years on, we have a second child, and I’m delighted to say the PND did not return. I have also reconciled myself to being a SAHM. It isn't easy; I don't like playing with play-dough much, and I am sometime desperate for the intellectual stimulation of an adult conversation, but I do love being with my children, and I know they will only be little once, so I don’t want to miss it. I don’t have any back-up from nearby relatives so I don’t know how I would cope at work when they are too ill to be left at school or nursery; and although teaching is by no means the worst paid profession out there, the local costs of childcare would leave me very little at the end of the month in return for all the stress of juggling career and family. We are lucky that we can manage on my husband’s salary, though it has meant cutting out a lot of things I used to take for granted (like meals out, and nice hair-cuts!). I do miss the buzz of teaching, and the staffroom friendships, but there will be time to return to that later, perhaps.

I used the word ‘reconciled’ because my own mother was a SAHM for 40 years (I am one of 10 children), and although she never expressed a desire to have done anything else, she undeniably lost herself in the process with ultimately devastating consequences. (I don’t wish to air recent family history here, but trust me on this one.) This left me with hugely conflicting ideas about parenting; on the one hand, the only role model I had was a SAHM, and I grew up thinking this was what mothers should do. On the other hand, by the time I became pregnant, I had begun to realize the toll it had taken on my mother, and I was also making my way in the world independently, and was determined not to lose sight of that. The need to stop work for the depression, and the consequent struggle to re-invent myself has been without doubt one of the greatest challenges of my life. 

I am proud to say that I now feel strong in my own choices, and proud of my role as a mother. But I am also trying to carve out some space for me in what little ‘spare’ time I have: I’ve started doing a bit of private tutoring, joined the More Than A Mum twitter book club, started this blog as a way of rediscovering my writing and feeling part of the wider world, and set up a small jewellery business (www.morganandpink.co.uk), and one day soon I'll get my flute out again,  Trying to fit everything in sometimes feels like trying to stuff a duvet into a tea-bag, but that's another story...

3.  Freestyle – got your own point you’d like to get across on this issue? Here’s your chance… 

I think as a society we find it too easy to define people by their jobs – meet someone for the first time and the chances are they'll ask you what you do. And as has been said many times before, if you say you’re a stay at home mum, people either look disappointed and try to find someone else to talk to, or they try again and ask “But what did you do before?” The implication? That parenting is not considered valuable, or worthy of discussion. 

People also think you're wasting your education by staying at home instead of working, especially if you have a good degree from a good university. But think about it - we are bringing up the next generation; we are shaping the minds of those who will run this place after us. We are guiding their earliest thoughts and forming their core understanding of the world. Is that really a waste of time? But we live in a society that apparently values celebrity and glamour above all things practical, life-saving, educational or nurturing, and in this climate I don't see much hope that parents will ever receive the recognition they deserve.

Parenting is a huge job, and mothers in particular (since mothers still do most of this work) need support, regardless of whether they are SAHMs or holding down a paid job too: they need to be valued, praised, honoured for the massive task they undertake, day in, day out. It is a standing joke that the only things parents can talk about is their childen’s poo or their own lack of sleep; it is endlessly disappointing that for many people their understanding of a mother's work begins and ends with this demoralising and demeaning cliché.

I tag Curly Mum

Autism Mumma

MediocreMum

What if...? (3)

What if the tree reflections so perfectly poised
Upside down in the water
Suddenly shook their roots,
Swung themselves through 180°
And stepped into our world?

What if...? (2)

What if the warm red bricks of the kitchen floor
Are the muted shining backs of sleeping beetles?

What if...? (1)

What if the great black piano
With its lid open wide,
Turned into a huge hippopotamus
And swallowed the pianist whole?

Too young for Easter?

My 4 year old daughter is in Foundation Stage at a voluntary controlled C of E school, so perhaps I should not have been surprised when she came home yesterday with a little concertina book she had made at school, entitled “The Easter Story”. It contained a series of pictures cut out and stuck in to the book, for her to colour in, including one of Jesus on the cross. She pointed at this and said, “That’s when they banged the nails into his feet”. Then she said, “A cross looks a bit like a letter T, doesn’t it?”

I felt slightly winded by her first comment – my little Poppet, aged four, is being taught about one of the most celebrated examples of man’s fear, suspicion and brutality. She does not yet have any concept of who or what God is, nor what faith is, nor who Jesus might have been, so how is she to comprehend this story in its wider context? Her school has followed its policies on teaching key points in the Christian calendar, and introduced even the youngest in the school to the Easter story, but without a wider understanding of what it means. When I’ve asked Poppet, she doesn’t seem to have been taught about notions of sin, redemption, forgiveness, what the Bible is... So to her it’s a pretty gruesome story, accompanied by pictures to colour in – let’s get out the pencils and have some fun colouring in this image of a man dying a horrible death.

Perhaps it’s a timely reminder of what actually happened at the crucifixion – it’s a shocking story when told bluntly, and my own agnostic tendencies make it difficult for me to feel completely mollified by the idea of the resurrection. My daughter’s own understanding of death (my Grandmother died when Poppet was 2, my 20 year-old sister died when she was 3) is very much that people die and are gone. She is matter-of-fact about this; we remember time we spent with them, we have pictures of them, we might use some of their belongings and remember them using them in their turn, but they’re gone. She didn’t know until yesterday that sometimes people die because other people kill them.

Am I wrong to be shocked by this little book? By this lesson in a religious story, taught by a faith school? It seems to me that childhood innocence is terribly precious – we have plenty of time as adults to be bombarded with the understanding of the myriad ways people have of being cruel, brutal and inhumane. I have tried to shield her thus far from the fact that people not only die, they also kill; that our bodies can both withstand and inflict unimaginable pain and suffering. She’s only four – she likes Angelina Ballerina, Alfie and Annie Rose, Peppa Pig, chocolate spread on toast and playing on her slide in the garden. She sleeps with 5 different cuddly toys in her bed and is overjoyed to be starting swimming lessons this week. She’s a privileged little girl, and we are lucky enough to live in a country that is not at war, where children do not routinely die of poverty, neglect or disease, where violence is not something she sees in the street. Am I wrong to feel that I would like to protect her from the brutality of the world until she is older? I do not see that there is anything to be gained by exposing her to such things at such an age – it will give her nightmares, or perhaps worse, begin that process whereby people become so immune to such acts of violence that they willingly watch them for entertainment.

She is a child, and I would like her to remain so for a little while longer. I do not want her dreaming about people banging nails into other people’s feet.

Mother's Day Meme

For Mother’s Day, a meme started by More than a Mum – you can see the original here: more-than-a-mum.com

Describe motherhood in three words. Glorious, exhausting, challenging.

What’s the hardest thing about being a mum? Never, ever having time to myself, even to go to the loo! Just not enough time, full stop. Also, the constant background hum of wondering if you’re doing it well enough.

What’s the best thing? The developing relationship with the fascinating little people I’ve made (amazing!). Their smell, hugs and unconditional love.

How has it changed you? Oh gosh, how long have you got? I feel like someone took apart my brain and reassembled the bits in a different order. I’m still me, but a different version – I’m braver, bolder, more fearful, more scatty, squidgier round the edges, more thoughtful (I hope). I’ve also come to realize rather late in life that I have quite strong opinions!

What do you hope for your children? That they grow to be independent but still confident in my love and support. That they find out what they want to do in life, and pursue their passions with joy. That they find friends and eventually partners who will love them and care for them and make their hearts sing.

What do you fear for them? Bullying; aggression; war; sickness; global meltdown; the legacy of my family’s struggle with anorexia; my own depressive tendencies.

 

What makes it all worthwhile? Hugging them, watching them grow and learn, hearing them laugh.

I’m tagging any parent that would like to give this a go!

Breastfeeding - is it normal?

I have been alternately delighted and outraged that the sight of Beyoncé breastfeeding her child in public recently has been headline news. Delighted, because it may help other women, perhaps particularly young mothers, to make the decision to breastfeed their child. Outraged, because really, why on earth should it be news that a mammal is feeding its child with its own milk? That’s what being a mammal means.

How is it, that in our supposedly advanced society, we have reached a stage where we think it “better” or more “convenient” (have you tried sterilising a bottle at 2am with a screaming baby in the other hand?) to feed our offspring synthesised milk in plastic bottles, and then, as soon as they’re one year old, feed them milk from another animal entirely, when our own bodies produce the perfect baby food? Human breastmilk is absolutely, completely and utterly designed to nurture a human baby. It’s not rocket science! It’s produced by the mother to meet the needs of her young. It’s the right temperature, the right consistency, the right blend of nutrients – I could go on ad infinitum.

So yes, well done Beyoncé: I’m really pleased you’re doing this, and I wish many women will be spurred on by your example. But I wish even more than it was so normal it wasn’t deemed worthy of comment.

Workplace Villanelle

I sit and contemplate my desk, my place
of work where I achieve so much, you see;
outside there's only sky and empty space.

My piles of paper, super neat, embrace
a life of suits and smiles, a guarantee.
I sit and contemplate my desk, my place.

My keyboard occupies my hands which race
to please the boss with my efficiency.
Outside there's only sky and windy space.

Amongst my files a small shell lies misplaced,
its creamy whorl once polished by the sea.
I sit and contemplate its shape, my place.

The sun breaks in, and patterns form like lace,
a net of light and shade which dances free;
outside there's sky and trees and birds and space.

I dream a breeze upon my skin, the trace
of salt within the air, the scent of sea.
I sit and contemplate my desk, this place;
outside are crashing waves and light and space.

Fiona Lewis

Note: this was written as an exercise in the Villanelle form. A villanelle is defined as being written in five tercets, in which the first and last lines of the first stanza alternately appear as the last lines of the subsequent stanzas, with a final quatrain repeating both lines together as the last two lines. There are only two rhymes through the whole poem, the tercets rhymed aba and the quatrain abaa, and the lines are usually in iambic pentameter. It's a rigid form, which I felt reflected the tightness of soul I experienced in that office job, in contrast to the increasing freedom I felt outdoors. It was also very interesting that in concentrating on the strict form, the ideas themselves began to develop almost unconsciously. Let me know what you think!

If you're interested in the form, Dylan Thomas' 'Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night' is probably the best-known villanelle in English.