The Best Kind of Mom

The mommy wars have been waged since the first ladies with babies donned their pencil skirts and heels and took their places behind typewriters.  Decades later the debate rages on over who makes the best kind of mom – the stay-at-home mom or the working mom.  And the battle is a bitter one.  Every Mom wants to feel like they are doing the best for their kids, and when you call into question a major aspect of their parenting, feelings are easily hurt and tempers often rage.  Is there a best kind of mom?

The Stay-at-Home Mom

What working-from-home looks like.

Oh those lucky stay at home moms… Their hard working husbands toil away to bring home the bacon so they can stay home making cookies and playing 1950’s housewife.  It’s all pinterest projects, lullabies and pot roasts.  Or at least that is the stereotype.  And while stay-at-home mom’s have the privilege of being the main person in their children’s lives, they have also shelved their other ambitions to be home with their kids.  They are often the moms volunteering at school, chaperoning field trips and volunteering in classrooms.   They are the moms that on a snow day, end up with extra kids at their house, so their working mom friends can make it to the office.  And while they have more one-on-one time with their kids, and can mold them into early readers and get them to memorize all the former presidents, before they are in kindergarten, it doesn't necessarily mean their children will turn out better than others.  Yet, as they are making personal sacrifices to try and do the best for their kids they can be looked down upon or looked at with envy.  When people find out “I’m a stay-at-home mom”, the response is often “Oh, isn’t that nice for you”, in a tone that makes it seem like you’re doing something wrong.  Some get the impression that because you’re not dressing up and going to the office that you’re not educated, that your decision to stay home wasn't pro’d and conned to death, that you simply hung up your Wal-Mart vest, took off your McDonald’s visor and stayed home. They expect Peg Bundy with bon-bons, when the truth is most stay-at-home moms made a choice to give something up to be with their kids, and even if the list of pros was 10 times longer than the cons, they still left something behind in the decision.

The Working Mom

Also known as the Nights & Weekends Moms, have pro’d and conned their way to the office –  they do it because they have to or because they want to.  Their kids may attend daycare, school, or spend days with grandparents while mom is at work.  And while the kids may not get as much time with mom during the day, the separation can help them build confidence and independence.  The quantity time they lack during the work week they make up with quality when they are home. They rearrange schedules, coordinate their support system for pick-ups and drop-offs, skip lunch to leave early and bargain with bosses for an afternoon off to see their kids in the holiday concert.  They not only have to keep their kids and spouse happy, but their boss as well.  When they put on their daughters mood ring while playing dress up, it instantly turns to the murky black color that means “stressed”.  These are the moms that you find racing through the grocery store at 5PM or lingering in the empty aisles with a Starbucks long after their kids are snuggled into bed. They thrive on the least amount of sleep, they’ve got the morning routine down to a science and live off coffee with a side of guilt.  Whether they have to work or they love their job, they still feel the disappointment when they miss their kids’ important moments, but they can take comfort in knowing that the people they’ve chosen to help care for their kids when they aren’t available create a special group of people that their kids can turn to and trust in   addition to their parents.  The working mom may argue that modern stay-at-home moms are a relatively new phenomenon – Not too long ago dishes and laundry didn’t wash themselves in fancy machines, food came from the family garden and livestock that needed constant maintenance and care, and family fun time was less pinteresty and more you feed the chickens, I’ll go pick carrots.  The curse of the working mom is that no matter how hard they try, or how much they do, they still lay down to sleep wondering if they are doing enough.

But What About the Work-at-Home Moms?

I’d be remiss to not mention the work-at-home moms, being one myself. I work-at-home in marketing and design with my 4 kids.  Us work at home ladies have the best and worst of both worlds.  Being able to work at home means more time with the kids, it also means dedicating a big part of your day to getting work done – which isn’t what the kids mind.  Every day is a balancing act, every “just 5 more minutes guys” is more like 20 minutes, and every phone call is a gamble.  You wonder, if I answer this, will they be quiet? Will the littlest one start screaming from the bathroom “Wipe my butt!!”? Will they undoubtedly realize you’re compromised and take that opportunity to raid the snack cupboard/color on the wall/turn the bar of soap into a mushy mess in the bathroom sink? Those answers would be Yes. Yes. And most definitely Yes.   And those clients often have a knack for calling at the worst possible times. If you can clean up a poopy diaper explosion while talking email marketing with a customer, then you have the skills needed to be a work-at-home mom. And while we can make the daytime events at school, squeeze in chaperoning a field-trip now and again, and hit Target at 2PM on a Tuesday when there is practically no one else there, our schedules can be crazy.  We have to give the illusion of working 9-5 for our clients – which means answering emails in the Target parking lot and making calls while your kids eat lunch.  But our hours are more like 8-Noon, 2-4PM, and 8-11PM and with a little luck I manage to throw enough dishes in the dishwasher at some point to set the table for dinner.  There is no turning off work or family, they intermingle and overlap, and try as you might not to work on the weekend, you’ll end up with an urgent email from a client who needs help ASAP – and because you feel like you can’t hide: “Sorry, I’m out of the office for the day” to which they say “That’s okay, I’ll wait the thirty seconds while you walk downstairs to your office.”… you take care of it.   Managing your priorities with your sense of duty to both your clients and your family can be overwhelming, so you let the dishes stack up and the floor may not get swept for a day…or four, and you just hope your best is the enough for everyone counting on you.

The Best Kind of Mom

If we really want to know what makes the best kind of mom, we can ignore the experts, the TV talk shows and that loud mouth mom at your kids’ school.  If you want to know who the best kind of mom is – just ask your kids.  I just asked my youngest and with a darling smile he said “you”.  I have to agree. 

The best kind of mom is “You”.  You – who knows which of your child’s cries means “I’m hurt” or “I’m scared” or “man, this has been long day”.  You - who can spot a cold coming on just by how they are eating of the color in their cheeks.  You – who can cure the hiccups with some tickles and chase away the boogie monster by snuggling them in their favorite blanket.  You - who may once in a while lose your temper or not handle a tantrum just right, but You – who has the best hugs, smooches and smile to make it all okay in your kids’ world.  So let’s stop worrying about what all the other moms are doing, thinking and saying, let’s not propagate these mommy wars by pointing out the differences in how we get things done and let’s just do what we know makes OUR kids feel they have the best kind of mom.

Six More Weeks of Sniffles

I should have known when January swept by without so much has a sneeze, that something (or things) ominous were waiting for February.  And sure as that rotten little groundhog predicted six more weeks of winter, the antibacterial bubble we were thriving in popped, flooding the house with germs.

It always starts so innocently, a little cough, a sniffle, a little throat tickle. If you’re lucky, it ends there. But, I've never been lucky.  So when I saw the shadow of my youngest whimpering in the glow of the nightlight a week ago I knew there’d be six more weeks of sniffles.

The little one’s whimpers signaled a sore throat and fever that ended up being Strep, which was promptly shared with his brother… as I waited for the oldest two to follow suit, something strange happened.  They felt fine and I started to cough. 

I’m not one to get “stick a fork in me I’m done” sick.  A little cough/sniffle/throat thing one or two times a year, sure, but nothing that isn’t gone in a day or two.   I actually felt perfectly fine the morning of “the cough”.  I thought it was just a little dry throat, but by that afternoon I was wearing two sweaters and a robe, debating burial or cremation… leaning toward cremation because it sounded like the only way I may ever be warm again.

As my fever rose, I thought, at least the antibiotics worked on the younger two, they were feeling better.  Until I remembered the only thing worse than worrying about your sick kids is trying to take care of your healthy kids when you’re sick.  They still want to eat and play and be loud.   I just wanted to sit and shiver in my blanket igloo.   When I woke for the 3^rd day with a fever I thought I better go in, my throat was irritated, maybe I have Strep too.

My go-to place for this stuff is the Qcare at Cub Foods, when I got there it was closed. The staff all had strep.  The boys were diagnosed there earlier that week, so that was probably our fault (and the half dozen other people we waited with who were all there for strep tests too).   This made me feel even more confident that I must be suffering the same thing.  I followed the instructions on the door and headed to the nearest Urgent Care where I waited 2 hours to take a 6 minute test to find out from a doctor who’s shoes sound like bubble wrap popping with each step, and who smelled like a fart (I could still smell at this point, unfortunately), that I did not have Strep.   He didn't offer any other thoughts on a diagnosis, just told me to “Treat my symptoms.”, and bubble wrap-popped his way out the door.

When I was emailed my lab result later I found the dictation for the visit in the Patient Portal, imagine my surprise to learn that “Treat my symptoms” means: “She is encouraged to take vitamin C and zinc supplements in combination with increased water consumption to alleviate her discomfort. She may also take Acetaminophen 500mg 2 tabs p.o. q.i.d. p.r.n.; or Ibuprofen 200mg 4 tabs p.o. t.i.d. p.r.n. discomfort. Use of lozenges is also encouraged.”.  Fabulous advice I never heard.

The dictation also said “It is not necessary for her to remain home from work or school at this time.”  The “all-clear” to spread my fevery germs far and wide.  Not so fabulous advice.

Two more days of fever later, as I’m serving up roast beef, taters and gravy for the kids, my temp’s running about 102 and I’m feeling a little wobbly, but I’m not supposed to take anymore medicine for another hour.  I’m pouring gravy on a plate while holding it, not realizing its tipped ever so slightly until the scalding hot gravy starts pouring through my fingers.   The jolt of pain transports me back to the last time I felt this sick. I was 17, so sick I could barely move, I really wanted a cup of tea, so I put some water in the microwave that hung over the range.  My mom had just taken dinner off the stove, and as I waited for the microwave everything went black. I passed out and when I came to I had this strange burn on my hand, apparently from trying to catch myself on the hot stove.   It was the flu then, and I realized, even though my brain has been slow-cooking for the better part of a week, that it’s the flu now.

Hours later three of the four kids are coughing, two with a fever.  Another trip to the Urgent Care and luckily a visit with a much (so much) better doctor, and now our fridge has more medicine in it than food. But this morning, while the horrible cough is lingering, no one’s temp is above 100, a small victory.  The next week will probably be a long one.  I was too far in for Tamiflu, so I’ll just have to wait this out, on the bright side, I could almost smell my coffee this morning.   So I’ll leave you with this advice Nyquil Severe Cold and Flu pills actually let you feel almost normal when you’re trying to fall asleep, and if you’re at Urgent Care and hear bubble-wrapped footsteps coming your way, plug your nose and get a second opinion. 

No One Ever Told Me About "The Lasts"

Pretty soon the training wheels will be a thing of the past too.

I’m hyper aware of how much my baby isn’t a baby anymore.  As I’m directing the morning production of “Let’s make it to the bus stop without having to run!”, my youngest groggily stumbles into the kitchen and raises his arms for the big morning squeeze that wakes him up for the day.  At 4, he can best be described as an afternoon person.  But that morning hug from mom is pretty much all he needs from me these days. 

I set him down and ask what he wants for breakfast as he gathers his own cup, bowl and spoon.  “Cheerios, please.” followed by a “I said pleeeaaassseee!” because I told him it’s always important to say please and he wants me to notice that he did.

He pours his own milk and cereal like a big boy, gobbles his cereal and when done announces he’s going to get dressed, all while I’m still trying to get the other three out the door. 

A little voice in my head tells me those must-have morning hugs won’t last.  Pretty soon my youngest will be cast in the off-to-school production and the “I can’t find my library book!” panic will eat into the hugging time. My heart breaks a bit thinking of it.

No one ever told me about “the lasts”.  Every baby book only ever talks about the firsts.  The first poop, tooth, word, sit, roll, crawl, walk, and on, and on, and on.

 As the kids get older you start to realize their firsts are your lasts. Their first time getting dressed themselves is almost your last time helping them, their first shower is your last bathtime fun, the first time you forget to do the silly bedtime tuck in routine and they forget to remind you is the day after the last and you rarely go back. Sigh. Most of the lasts signal the end of a routine and special little daily moments parents share with their kids.

The impact of my older kids’ lasts, while still bittersweet, were not as profound as my youngest’s.  With the others, there was always someone still working through their exciting baby firsts to make the “lasts” of the others seem less final.

Now I find myself having changed my last diaper, given my last bath, dressed my last toddler and frantically looked for my last pacifier or blanket at bedtime. Those moments went without the fanfare of the “firsts”, there was no proud documentation in the baby books, probably, because they sneak by so slowly.  It feels like you’ll never change your last diaper until you finally realize you have, three days later.

The cruelest part of parenting is that you teach your children to do without you.  And while there’s some days their independence can’t happen soon enough, most days it’s hard to imagine them not needing you… and you not being the most important person in their life.  And while I can’t stop them from growing up and doing for themselves, now that I’ve realized the significance of “the lasts”, I’m going to watch for them, and take a minute to mostly celebrate them, and maybe mourn them, just a little, while I wait for the next big kid firsts to happen.