Monthly Archives: May 2012

An Unpopular Response to the Time Magazine Cover, Bring on the Hate Mail

Standard

I don’t get what the big deal is.

I mean if  Time Magazine asking “Are you Mom enough?” beside a picture of a mother nursing her toddler insinuating you’re not mom enough unless you nurse your toddler, makes you feel like less of a mama, then you need to reevaluate your confidence as a mother.

If the cover had been a mother sitting in her living room farting around on Facebook while her 9 month old screamed and cried himself to sleep in his crib and the caption had read, “Are you Mom enough?” insinuating it takes a hardcore, mom of the year type woman to let her kid cry himself to sleep it wouldn’t have made me feel any less of a mom. It would make me think poor, poor baby, but it would not make me feel less of a mother just because that’s not how I parent.

Am I missing something? And trust me, I have read allllll of the responses to the cover. Is Time Mag really pitting us against each other by asking this? Trust me when I tell you that if it ever comes up in conversation that I had my baby at home or that I nurse my kids until they don’t want to nurse anymore or that at least one kid sleeps in the bed with us every night, unless I’m preaching to the choir, the majority of women don’t find the need to hold back their disapproving opinions on how I parent!

And on top of that, Attachment Parenting IS hard! It is hard fucking work. And not everyone is cut out for it. What is so wrong with that. And I’m not talking about women who wanted to breastfeed but struggled with it or women who wanted to have a natural birth and it didn’t work out. Women tell me straight up all the time, “yeah, I don’t know how you do that. I need my time” or “I need my space” and even “that’s too hard”. “Are you Mom enough” may not have been the very best wording but it sure does sell magazines. Isn’t that what Time Magazine does?

And you know what..I liked the picture too. Not all nursing mothers are overweight. She looked beautiful and strong. What’s so wrong with that? So now is Time Magazine insinuating that if you have a toddler and you don’t look like this mama that you are a lazy and fat and inadequate?

Get the fuck over it already.

Advertisements

Confessions of a Wanna-Be Supermom..

Standard

I yelled at my kid today.

I wanted this sillouette thing of both of my kids. I’ve wanted it for some time. Anyway, today, I decided was the day we were going to do it. I needed to take a clean profile pic of both kids to place the order.

My three year old, for whatever reason.. could. not. listen. He could not stand perfectly profiled, looking at the wall, in order for me to get three profile pictures (what this particular website requires). He could not do it without putting his hands in his mouth, his shirt in his mouth, crying, looking up at the sky, looking down at the ground, getting more and more nervous the longer it went on.

“Why can’t you listen?”!!! Ugh. I was getting so angry with him. All the while, my one year old is crying to be held and nurtured and who knows what else, I was too busy trying to get this stupid profile picture, right??

He’s getting more nervous and whining and putting his hands in his mouth and whimpering and he’s not sure what’s going on because I’m so mad at him and he can’t really figure out why because all I want is a picture right? What is so important about a picture?

Nothing.

The universe has her say. I yell one more time and slam my butt down one the coffee table..and the legs break off under me. Then I am really, really mad! @&*!%&@#!!

Finally. I break down. I start to cry. Totally not like me. He realizes my state and comforts me. “Mama, don’t be sad. Smile mama.”. Followed by kisses. Over and over.

Then the guilt comes. Oh and it comes. And it comes and comes. Like waves. Guilt  like nothing I have ever felt. And I cry. And he kisses. And I cry. And he tells me, “smile, mama” as he uses his little fingers to move my lips into a smile. Which makes me cry worse.

Damn man. All I can say is this shit is hard.

How’s that for post-Mother’s Day bliss?