Mom in the Mirror

From Alpha Moms to Omega

Do you know the "Martha Stewart of parenting"? She's Isabel Kallman (aka Alpha Mom), profiled in a recent issue of New York magazine. Kallman is the grown-up version of many young women I've known, and she's definitely one of the reasons I left city life behind -- I feared I would either turn into her or wish I had.

But I do agree with her (and Hillary Clinton) about this: It takes a village to raise a child. These days, that village is electronic, like Kallman's new business model.

Unfortunately, her brand of perfectionist self-help only reinforces the frustrations it's meant to resolve:

Her [TV] channel will be like a support group or a church — the church of the immaculate perfection. Goal-oriented parents can go there and find comfort that they're not alone, that others are also struggling to grow the perfect child. They'll be told what to do and what not to do and how to do it better — discover how to boost their newborn's coordination and strength; learn massage that "can help babies eat and sleep better"; hear "research-based explanations of how children separate and attach"; and obtain guidance on "raising overachievers."

And when inevitably they're frustrated in their goals, they'll find programs for that, too: some calm high priestess of motherhood, some Oprah-meets-Martha image of perfection, coming on to absolve them for failing to be perfect today and bolstering their resolve to be more perfect tomorrow. You can do it, the message goes. You can raise "best of breed" children without ever losing your "sense of self." ...

Simply by calling herself and her network Alpha Mom, she presents an ideal and promotes the notion that perfection can be achieved. Isabel ratchets up the tension; more mothers go nuts. The work of Alpha Mom TV, like that of the church, will be to allay the fear it creates.

While I am disturbed by the message(s) she's sending, I do agree that a techno-village is helpful -- that's one of the reasons parenting blogs are so popular.

Speaking of which, Ayelet Waldman ended her blog, "Bad Mommy," after only a few months, but in this article by Katherine Seligman, Waldman talks "unfiltered" about parenting, marriage and more.

Seligman connects Waldman's writing to a trend she calls "tell-all motherhood," which owes its modern history, at least in part, to a Salon feature called Mothers Who Think, created and edited by Camille Peri and Kate Moses before blogging had penetrated the parenting world.

And, said [Kate] Moses, in a world increasingly perceived as insecure and polarized, women are looking for a way to connect with each other.

"There seems to be a need to hear voices like these," she said. "I think all the women here are struggling to keep their heads above water and be adequate."

Waldman is part of the wave, or wavelet, of women writing on motherhood, a group that encompasses the Baby Boom generation -- whose sheer numbers create a prism through which everything looks like a discovery. These writers might be more honest and fearless than others before them, but they didn't invent the genre.

The genre, Seligman writes, was created by diarists. You know diaries, they're analog blogs. Blogs are the modern diary, made public.

Ayelet Waldman is writing for Salon now. You can read her essays here.

And finally, mothers are looking not just to connect with ourselves and each other, we want to stay connected to our kids. Katy Read lets technology be the new umbilical cord. She plays video games with her 9-year-old son.

I'm sure I'm not the only parent who, struggling to keep on top of all of this but confronted with a yawning gap between what's ideal and what's practical, winds up drawing a shaky line somewhere in between and hoping for the best.

Like Read, I'm a Beta mom, testing techniques at different stages to see where we'll be at Omega.

Who moved my chi?

I was born a city girl and I will die a city girl. In between, I have become a small-town mom.

I first noticed this about myself during dinner a few weeks ago, when I announced to my family that I was eating flowers. Actually, it was an artichoke, but it had leaves.

My son said, "Mommy, you're a nature girl!"

I was horrified.

No, I'm not, I told him. Nature girls wear no makeup; they have curly, graying hair. And they eat vegetables.

Guilty, guilty, and reluctantly guilty.

But how can that be? Where, oh where has my city soul gone?

I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. We went to the zoo, the Art Institute, the Museum of Science and Industry. I spent time at my dad's business in the blue-collar neighborhood of Bridgeport and tasted the flavor of real Italian meatballs, Greek olives, steamed hot dogs in poppy seed buns.

When I was 13, we moved into the city, and I found new energy in the theatre, the bookstores, the buses. I thrived on having access to anything, anytime. I loved the rhythm of the streets and the anonymity -- the sense that everything matters and nothing matters.

When it was time to choose a college, there was only one place for me: New York City. My four years there were filled with the ultimate urban experience. I traded buses for subways, Second City for Broadway, and Lincoln Park for Central Park. I lived just south of Harlem and saw the island from Cloisters to Wall Street. I even ventured out to a borough or two.

But with bachelor's degree in hand, I decided to leave New York. After hopping over a homeless person one too many times, I worried my heart was hardening.

So I went to graduate school in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, a college town, just down the road from a capital city.

It wasn't Chicago or New York, but it was home. I was ready to slow down a little. And even though I would never grow roses, I did hope to stop and smell them more often.

Once I got married and had a son, I realized that the benefits of a simpler life outweighed my longing for the rush of activity. I was content with fewer restaurants, more pottery places, and a rebalanced life.

Mostly.

As my son grew, and we saw city friends and family during visits over the years, I started to worry.

Was I raising my son at a disadvantage? Sure we went to the occasional museum to see dinosaurs and Space exhibits. And traveling troupes came through to put on shows that had long ago left larger cities or grown old in them. But it wasn't the cultural gap that made me anxious.

It wasn't even the diversity gap, although I wondered whether my son would appreciate differences as much as I'd like. What would it mean if the sights and sounds of Chinatown remained foreign to him? The Lower East Side? The skyscrapers?

Even if I dismissed some of my concerns as superficial, there was still this most persistent fear: the achievement gap.

Most city kids I know are hipper, wiser and faster than my son. They're likely to rise to the top in various fields and become the kids against whom he will compete for spots in college, work, life. They'll probably be the ones hiring or firing him in about 15 years.

Will they understand his wry wit, recognize and respect the intelligence behind his slow smile?

I don't know. I hope so.

I hope that their exposure to all walks and talks of life has done more than render them street smart, cynical and sophisticated. I hope that it enables them to postpone snobbery and the prejudgments that most of us immediately form.

I hope.

Because the truth is, my son is not a city kid. He is easily overwhelmed and overstimulated, a homebody rather than an adventurer.

And I am not a city parent. Even if we could afford to live in D.C. or Boston, I'd have a hard time giving my son the kind of freedom my parents gave me, the kind he'd need to really enjoy and benefit from city life. And I'd rather he enter adulthood still innocent of life's harder edges.

So, we live in a small town, a few blocks south of Main Street. We walk to the community center, where my son plays basketball. We walk to the ice cream shop, where we sit outside by the train tracks and eat. We walk to the library, where the new books arrive regularly enough.

Sometimes, we even go to the pier and look out over Tampa Bay at the stingrays and sharks below and the sky above.

It's a view I've never seen anywhere else.

These days, cities are great places to visit. I just wouldn't want to live there.

A version of this LifeFiles column originally appeared on about 70 TV station websites managed by Internet Broadcasting Systems.

The nanny and the mother

I am fascinated by this New York Times story written by a mother about the nanny who was caring for her children, and this response by the nanny, who blogged about her life and work.

What strikes me most is that both defend their choices as women. Both seem disappointed in each other. And both recognize that their relationship is really only about their own needs (the nanny's for employment, the mother's for "hipness by proxy").

Here's the mother's take:

I was about to turn 40. I'd been married almost 15 years. My ability to attend literary readings and art gallery openings was hampered by two children, and my party life was relegated to the toddler birthday circuit. ...  I also feared she would judge my life and find it wanting. ... My awareness of this prior life and my knowledge that I'd outgrown it didn't spare me from feelings of intense doubt about my current life, times when I was convinced I'd made the wrong choices.

The nanny says:

This might be hard for Ms. Olen to understand, considering this article reveals that she lives in an insular inner world where everything is about HER, but I didn't judge her life. Why? Well, I never really thought about it at all. She employed me to care for her children. Her choices? Her compromises? Not my business. The only times I considered her life was in relation to my employment: Would she manage her schedule so she would stop changing my hours? Would she and her husband figure out if they were staying in Brooklyn so I would stop having to listen to them debate moving to the suburbs? But I think it is also relevant to point out that Ms. Olen's expressed fear that I would judge her life, is really to try to paint me as anti-mother and anti-children. When in fact, I have consistently blogged about how I want to make professional choices now to ensure that I can be a mother some day.

After reading their perespectives on the situation, I'm left wondering: What is it women really want from each other? And why is it so difficult for us to give and receive it?

Thanks, Matt, for passing along these links!

I love a lap-sitter

We went out to eat yesterday and when Colter had finished his meal, he left his seat, came over to mine, put his arm around my shoulders, then sat on my lap.

I love that my 9-year-old son is entirely comfortable sitting on my lap, even in a crowded restaurant.

He has always been a lap-sitter with me (not as much with Gary), and I have always enjoyed the closeness, the cuddling, the company. Even now, when he weighs about 70 pounds.

Do you have a lap-sitter?

Soggy but safe

I guess it's really hurricane season. We're getting bands of high wind and some periodic heavy rain from Dennis, but nothing too out of the ordinary for a Florida summer Saturday.

Colter's team still had a basketball game this morning and they only lost by four points (that's almost like a victory for them, since they've previously lost every game by double digits). We were going to SuperTarget to celebrate, but then it started pouring outside and we decided we'd all rather be home, where it's dry and cozy.

We're reading, playing Bionicles, and snacking.

How do you spend rainy days?

Growing up political

I was 7 years old when I watched the Watergate hearings. I don't know what interested me in them initially, I just remember sitting at the kitchen table, mesmerized by the black and white screen and by the mystery: Who did what when? How far did it go?

Maybe it was my family's fascination with Perry Mason and courtroom drama that hooked me. Maybe there was nothing better on television at the time. Maybe I wanted to understand what my parents and sister (who was 15 at the time) were talking about.

Last night, Colter watched part of "The Story Behind 'Deep Throat'" with Gary and me. There was a lot he didn't understand, but it gave us an opportunity to talk with him about a great moment in journalism history and an awful moment in American history. It was part of Colter's political education, just as Election 2004 was.

Do you talk with your child(ren) about politics?

Fast food, family-style

I was just editing a post called "Drive-thru dilemma" for Tampa Bay DotMoms and it made me think about my weakness for McDonald's french fries (do they serve them this early in the day?). I don't have to be hungry to eat them, I just have to know they're there. Colter isn't very interested in fries, but he loves their chicken nuggets. For Gary, it's a Filet of Fish or a Big Mac.

What is your family's favorite fast food?

Our virtual universe

Here's a summary of the studies that sparked our appearance on "Good Morning America" this morning. And here's Colter's website (KidsVirtualU.com), which he decided to create yesterday (with production help from me) so that his electronic experiences could benefit others.

Defending TV on TV

Gary and Colter and I will be part of a story about kids and TV that airs tomorrow morning (Tuesday) on "Good Morning America." We take the view that TV is fine for Colter in moderation; in fact, it has some benefits.

I'm not sure how articulate I was, so here are the points I was trying to make:

• Colter probably watches too much TV and I probably spend too much time online. We're an imperfect family making imperfect choices in an imperfect world. It seems to me that each family has to make its own choices and try not to judge the choices other families make.
• Colter's interest in electronics has helped him learn. His math skills improved as a result of Pokemon and Yu-gi-oh duels. His reading and comprehension skills improved as a result of reading strategy guides. His critical thinking and strategic thinking skills improved as a result of the trial and error nature of many GameCube games. His scores on the 3rd grade FCAT put him in the country's 99th percentile for math and 90th percentile for reading. He scored 11/12 on critical analysis, 12/12 for initial understanding, and 5/5 on patterns, relationships and algebra. Plus, he may have quicker eyes and do better than non-gamers when he enters the job market.
• Colter is part of Generation M, the 8-18-year-olds who consume media more and differently than previous generations. His culture and expectations are different. I took Colter to see "Cats" last weekend and as I sat there with him I realized that what entertained me 20 years ago is not what entertains him. He expects and requires a more interactive experience than I ever did. I was a passive participant in entertainment, Colter is a very active participant.
• Colter is an introvert who gets his energy from his thoughts and imagination. Electronics -- TV, video games, the computer -- fuel his creativity and imagination, and for him that's both satisfying and relaxing. They also help him bond with peers who share the same interests.
• Colter never sucked his thumb or used a pacifier. But he has found in electronics a way to comfort himself. They soothe him and challenge him. 
• We monitor what he watches and always have. We wouldn't let him watch "Teletubbies" as a young child or "Barney"; we wouldn't let him watch Pokemon for a long time; we wouldn't let him watch "Mucha Lucha" or "Dragonball Z." The shows he watches are shows we would (and sometimes do) watch with him, usually on Nickelodeon or Disney Channel. He watches shows that share our values and that sometimes help him learn a little about himself and about young life.
• We try to limit his use of electronics to two hours a day. If he wants to use them for longer, he can earn time by playing piano or reading. We go through phases when we limit it more aggressively than others. He watches less during the school year than during the summer. He watches less during the week than on weekends. And some days if I come home and he completely ignores me or doesn't want to go out because "my show is on!" I'll threaten to turn off cable. We'll play lots of board games for a few weeks, build with Legos and then eventually fall back into our routine.
• Colter does not have a television in his bedroom and won't for many years. Watching is not conducive to sleep, and TV remains a social activity in our house. There have also been studies that show kids who have TVs in their rooms watch more than kids who do not, and Colter certainly doesn't need to watch more TV.
• TV is neutral. It's a medium, like a book or newspaper or toy. Would we ever accuse parents of letting books babysit their children? Or of being bad parents because their child spent hours playing with trains while they cleaned the house or did laundry or gardened? Each child is individual and it is up to each parent to decide what is appropriate for his or her needs.
• There's an opportunity cost to watching TV. The time Colter spends watching television is time he could be spending on other experiences. If we lived in a big city, he might watch less TV. We might spend more time at museums, the theatre, etc. Or, he might spent more time enrolled in classes to help him strengthen his strengths -- learning to make video games, program computers, etc. He spends time watching TV, playing basketball, playing piano and guitar, reading, swimming, building with Legos, playing Bionicles with friends, and sometimes going to a museum or the aquarium or zoo.
• And then, there's the perk of his "addiction": When we want to get him to do something, we just threaten to take away all electronics.

How much TV do you let your child(ren) watch and how do you justify it?

In case you missed it: Heather Armstrong (of Dooce) was on "Good Morning America" Saturday featured in a story called, "Blogging: Group Therapy of the 21st Century?"

The Mommy's Bill of Rights

I just discovered a clever article by a writer who "decided the Constitution, a model for human rights and democracy, gives little hope to mothers who don't have time to pursue life or liberty, and whose happiness is stopping at a red light to finish brushing their teeth in the rear view mirror."

She's written the Mommy's Bill of Rights because "someone has to uphold the rights of a group of people whose arms are too tired by the end of the day to hold anything else up."

Here's an edited version (these are mostly her words, I just shortened and summarized in places):

Article I: A Mom has the right to freedom of (uninterrupted) speech.

Article II: Mom has the right to confiscate any inanimate object.

Article III: All mothers have the natural right to bear and utilize one of the most dangerous and powerful weapons in the world: guilt.

Article IV: Moms have the right to peacefully assemble -- without their children.

Article V: Mom has the right not to be a victim of cruel and unusual punishment.

Article VI: Mom has the right to own unbroken possessions.

Article VII: Mothers have the right to bestow wisdom.

Article VIII: Mothers have the right to donate.

Article IX: Mothers have the right to vigorously promote coats and vegetables.

Article X: Mothers have the right to prohibit anyone younger than 5 from asking "but, why?"

Amendment I: A mother has the right to love her children unconditionally -- forever.

What would you add to the Mommy's Bill of Rights?