Last week I resigned from my job to be a full time mama. Of course, as soon as you get pregnant you’re full time, all the time, for the rest of time; but last week I embraced the role of stay at home mom, thereby reducing my job load to one full time position. It feels good. I feel streamlined, like all the pieces are buzzing together rather than randomly bouncing off the walls. Not to make light of the processing that went into actually walking into the president’s office with a resignation letter shaking in my hands. I struggled to justify my desire to stay home after achieving success and great enjoyment from my career. Wasn’t I the culmination of what all those women before me fought for? How could I walk away from an opportunity to lead an organization in order to do laundry, make casseroles and schedule play dates? I felt like I was letting down all the women whose shoulders I stand on, while also making the journey more difficult for the young women rising up behind me.
I had dinner with a girlfriend this week who made the opposite decision, to continue with her career while her husband stays home, and we were discussing the extreme pressure on women with young children regardless of the decision they make about their career. This isn’t a new conversation, certainly, but it is constantly evolving as our society changes and women shift and buck with current trends and family demands. We were both struggling to prove ourselves and not appear too ‘emotional’ with male colleagues, the fine line that defines us. We also wondered at several points in the conversation why women make it so difficult for each other, placing such judgment on the individual choices we make (from breastfeeding, lordy, to childcare). And I was voicing my guilt that I had let down our organization, that now those in positions of hiring might think twice before considering another woman on the cusp of starting a family. It feels like I burned them, although there was really no easy solution: burn them, burn my family, burn myself … burn-out. Ultimately I had to make peace with the fact that all those women before me paved the way for me to have a choice.
Within a few weeks of trying to juggle the demands of work and family I quickly discovered that there was no way I could do it all. I felt selfish voicing this because I recognized that the component that would get lost in the shuffle would not be the career that I loved or the child that I loved, but myself. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself to this endeavor and this made the choice feel selfish. I have friends that I believe would echo this sentiment as the reason they decided to return to work, in order to maintain their individuality. The problem lies in the belief that we do have a choice, because the pendulum seems to have swung the other way. Most families nowadays cannot afford to have a stay at home parent even if they want to. So what will it take for our society to value the role a woman (or man) plays in the home? Isn’t there enough documented support that having a family member as the primary caregiver for the first year of life is the ideal situation? What will it take for our nation to get with the program? The paradigm of value itself must shift and I’m not sure how or when this might happen. I know that every choice we make in our life is political and affects the stream of history, so I’m acutely aware that my choice to stay home to raise my son was a political move in my community. I’m just not sure what the repercussions will be. What I do know is that it has given me a whole new level of empathy for working moms, single moms, moms in abusive situations. What will it take for us to place real value on the role of the mother in nurturing the cohesiveness and strength of our communities?
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
Good Bones
We’ve been researching buying a new house so I’ve been pouring over real estate sites, looking for that sparkler, priced too low for the neighborhood it lives in. A lot of houses in our price range are described as having ‘good bones’. I love this phrase. Basically a nice way of saying, “not much else”, but it makes me want to run to them, step inside the walls and say, ‘I know you!’ I’m certain I could settle into a really nice conversation with these houses, the kind that would build over time and grow with me. Good bones are truly all you need. The structure, the integrity of a thing, is what matters; everything else gets filled in as it comes into relationship with others. I remind myself of this as I approach each house. I’d rather work with what I’ve been given and come up with something unique, than be given perfection and have no where to go.
Coming into relationship with something is spectacular. It pushes you to become more than you were when you met and it doesn’t back down until you have both been transformed. I think of my hodgepodge of friends, all split levels and four squares. I didn’t pick them because they were a complete package but because they had good bones. Together we fill in all the space between and over time this space between becomes a home that we inhabit together. I experienced this when we first moved into our current house. I had never had a yard before and I was overwhelmed with the shrubs and flowers and vegetable garden that needed tending. There were rose bushes that our neighbor would scold me for letting grow over the fence onto the sidewalk but I was hesitant to prune anything for fear I would kill it. Over the course of our first year here I grew more confident and I felt the yard slowly approach me. I could sense a trust growing between us, based on my willingness to listen and observe before imposing my will. I came into relationship with the yard by acting as a steward for its potential.
And so we wait, my husband and I, to find the house that needs a little time to get to know; the house that wants to hunker down for a long conversation and allow us to mortar relationship into the walls. I’m happy for the reminder, a familiar motif, that the only way to create right relationship is to start with a solid foundation.
Coming into relationship with something is spectacular. It pushes you to become more than you were when you met and it doesn’t back down until you have both been transformed. I think of my hodgepodge of friends, all split levels and four squares. I didn’t pick them because they were a complete package but because they had good bones. Together we fill in all the space between and over time this space between becomes a home that we inhabit together. I experienced this when we first moved into our current house. I had never had a yard before and I was overwhelmed with the shrubs and flowers and vegetable garden that needed tending. There were rose bushes that our neighbor would scold me for letting grow over the fence onto the sidewalk but I was hesitant to prune anything for fear I would kill it. Over the course of our first year here I grew more confident and I felt the yard slowly approach me. I could sense a trust growing between us, based on my willingness to listen and observe before imposing my will. I came into relationship with the yard by acting as a steward for its potential.
And so we wait, my husband and I, to find the house that needs a little time to get to know; the house that wants to hunker down for a long conversation and allow us to mortar relationship into the walls. I’m happy for the reminder, a familiar motif, that the only way to create right relationship is to start with a solid foundation.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
2010: local, seasonal food
Philanthropy has become a loaded word, a lofty ideal for wealthy people. Yet in its simplest definition it is the love of humankind and the desire to contribute to the health and vitality of humankind. Being philanthropic is merely aligning your intentions with action. It’s becoming involved, being thoughtful, engaging with your neighbors and participating in civic dialogue. You are a philanthropist if you are a member of the art museum, or if you buy your vegetables at the farmers market. When I worked at the Community Foundation I met a man who would occasionally leave a $100 tip on a $5 sandwich because he would learn that his waitress was putting herself through school. For the majority of us, this is the kind of philanthropy we can manage, promoting the welfare of humans one person at a time. Philanthropy is being mindful of the singular act that tugs on the entire web of humanity. If you act with compassion and intellect to take action and make the community a better place, you are an everyday philanthropist. And in being such a person, I believe there are commitments to be made.
For me, 2010 will be about honoring the land and the creatures that provide us with food. Inspired by Michael Pollen’s Omnivore’s Dilemma and Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, my intention is to eat local, seasonal food as much as possible, with a de-emphasis on meat. Although the thought of going vegetarian has occurred to me many times throughout my life, I can’t seem to give up a nice medium-rare steak. This is the year however, that I might be pushed over the edge. I have a new son, and whether it’s the hormones still circulating or the way his eyes resemble a tiny bunny or lamb or calf, I’m having a really hard time stomaching the thought that this flesh I am eating was a baby to another female creature on the planet. So I say de-emphasis, which to me resembles a bridge to get me out over the water. I will be researching local farms for humanely raised and butchered animals as an alternative, yet I realize that if this becomes a philosophical shift for me, how they were butchered may not matter so much.
So the commitment to eat local, seasonal food provides the foundation for my philanthropy this year. I look forward to seeing what other philanthropic interests this will awaken: preservation of farmland, feeding the hungry, community gardens, childhood obesity … endless possibilities.
For me, 2010 will be about honoring the land and the creatures that provide us with food. Inspired by Michael Pollen’s Omnivore’s Dilemma and Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, my intention is to eat local, seasonal food as much as possible, with a de-emphasis on meat. Although the thought of going vegetarian has occurred to me many times throughout my life, I can’t seem to give up a nice medium-rare steak. This is the year however, that I might be pushed over the edge. I have a new son, and whether it’s the hormones still circulating or the way his eyes resemble a tiny bunny or lamb or calf, I’m having a really hard time stomaching the thought that this flesh I am eating was a baby to another female creature on the planet. So I say de-emphasis, which to me resembles a bridge to get me out over the water. I will be researching local farms for humanely raised and butchered animals as an alternative, yet I realize that if this becomes a philosophical shift for me, how they were butchered may not matter so much.
So the commitment to eat local, seasonal food provides the foundation for my philanthropy this year. I look forward to seeing what other philanthropic interests this will awaken: preservation of farmland, feeding the hungry, community gardens, childhood obesity … endless possibilities.
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