Mother’s Day

I got to sleep until almost 9am!!!!! It is nearly impossible to articulate both the rarity and enormity of this gift. Coffee, homemade cards and love all around greeted me when I awoke, and I felt, and continue to feel, incredibly grateful. Then a dear friend, whom I see way too infrequently, and I got to go to the farmers market ALONE, putzing lazily, chatting deeply, able to make well-considered purchases rather than the usual harried ones due to one or more monkey-like children hanging from our legs or attempting to shimmy up the purveyor’s tent poles, totally to their chagrin. Suffice it to say, this was a lovely morning. I’m soon going to make a strawberry-rhubarb pie with some of the gorgeous bounty. Mother’s Day reminds me of New Year’s Eve in some ways. There is a lot of external hullabaloo- “what are your plans? go out for brunch! a big family day in store? don’t forget the card!”- surrounding the expectations of this DAY FOR (?) MOMS. But most moms I know simply want some time to rest, the chance to shift the multitude of parental responsibilities to someone else’s shoulders, a few hours by themselves with a good book, a trashy magazine, a trip to the gym, whatever. In other words, time to not be a mom. For many of us, a day completely contrary to the other 364 per year sounds positively dreamy.

But that desire isn’t really reflected in the Hallmarkian image of Mother’s Day- one spent all together, well-behaved, perfectly content. This past week, as in previous years, mothers all around were quietly admitting our daydream of peaceful solitude to our nearest and dearest gal pals. By and large, this pretty consistently elicited giggles of understanding, responses of “me too!” I think the ‘quiet admission’ aspect is another example of the way mothers feel guilt for not quite matching the purported ideal of a endlessly patient, totally enthusiastic bottomless vessel of I-love-mommy’ness. I love my children with a primal ferociousness, but I am neither endlessly patient nor in possession of bottomless reserve.

Over the past few years, I’ve tried all manner of reconciling these feelings, but what I’ve realized is that you can simultaneously feel intensely in love with your children and with motherhood itself AND an acute, essential need to spend some time away from them. To acknowledge and respect the latter makes the former even more meaningful. By owning my real need to have time for myself and my interests, I am much more able to return to my boys, fully present and enthusiastic. To be the kind of mom I want to be.

Happy Mother’s Day and thank you to all of you out there who are moms in any way. Maternalism makes the world go round.

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Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works through Elan.Works and is a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines and at TEDxRegina and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Motherly Musings on Praise and Support

I have had some really interesting conversations lately with good friends who are also good mothers. Our children are about the same age, and I know we give them everything we’ve got. Many of us, however, also feel a pang, at times quite a significant one, about the sense of self that we ignore, bury or even shed in order to be able to parent to our standards. In light of those sacrifices, the questions that surround whether or not we’re doing a good job with our children can feel especially fraught with anxiety and wonder.

  • What if our best efforts aren’t good enough?
  • What will the aftermath of our mistakes be?
  • How do our nurturing actions support or butt heads with our kids’ innate natures?
  • When we feel deep down that our children don’t need or benefit from what American society deems valuable/helpful/necessary, how do we manage feedback, sometimes negative, that we get from others? How do we stand our ground when to do so can feel isolating or unsure?
  • In this context, how does praise fit in? It is common to hear that American kids today are way overpraised and that this is undermining their sense of agency. How do we instill self-confidence while also keeping our kids humble and willing to work hard?

What a messy jumble of difficult queries, layered into which can also be parental competition with one another. I haven’t experienced this too often, fortunately, but the times I have have been extremely unpleasant (see: mother/father who complained about me to the teacher when Jack and I made Valentines for classmates, not knowing we weren’t supposed to; really?!). We all know parents who think their child(ren) is the most amazing creature on Earth, without fault or foible, as well as parents who will spend or do anything to enhance their child’s image or abilities. It is beyond natural to want the best for your kids, to feel you’d walk to the ends of the earth to help them and ameliorate their struggles or pain. But how much is too much, and where do you draw the line?

These are questions that each parent must answer for him- or herself. Even the most expert among us can’t solve every problem, understand every child. And as any of you who have more than one child know, no two are alike, not even the closest of siblings. So, what works for one child may not (at times probably won’t) work for another. Disciplinary tactics may have to be scrapped. The ways in which you try to instill pride and competence might need review. And so on.

When Jack was 2 or 3, I signed him up for a tot soccer league. He’s never expressed much interest in sports, but I figured that he might enjoy being outside and with his friends. Bless his heart, he ran around the field a few times and spent the rest of the season picking flowers and identifying weeds. I loved that he was just being himself, his dear self just appreciating the nature around him, but when the season drew to a close and the managing parents were ordering trophies, I certainly did not feel that Jack needed or deserved one. It would have A) been meaningless to him as he had no idea what a trophy was, B) stood for pretty much nothing since I’m not sure he ever kicked his ball during practices, and, thusly, C) rewarded him simply for my paying his membership fee rather than any work or commitment on his behalf. This seemed like a no-brainer to me, and I did not order a trophy. I’m pretty sure I was the only parent to have made that decision, but it just felt right.

Similarly, one of the belt-testing sessions in Tae Kwon Do occurs next week, and I haven’t registered Jack for it. He has been away from lessons for 2+ weeks because of our trip abroad, and spent the class before we left wiggling his loose tooth and reclining against the mirrored walls of the studio (despite my stern gestures to stand up and pay attention). As such, I felt he was not prepared for testing. On the one hand, I didn't want to set him up for failure, but on the other, I didn't want him to pass if he didn't really deserve to. Some of the other parents, friends of mine who I respect and enjoy, seemed somewhat aghast when I said that “no, I hadn't registered him.” I ended up speaking to the teacher who basically agreed with me but said that if J attended three additional classes between now and testing, he would be prepared. I said we’d definitely attend the classes and if he tried his hardest (as he did yesterday) then we could do the testing. Yada, yada, yada.

The bottom line is that the issue of praise, how much and when, can certainly be a point of disagreement in the world of parenting. There was no animosity in the brief discussion yesterday, but the surprise on my friends’ faces was loud and clear, and I wondered what they thought of me in that moment.  Did I seem cruel or to have overly strict expectations of J? I’m not sure, but what I did feel sure about was that before his terrific job in class yesterday, he didn’t deserve the “promotion,” and I don’t want to reward laziness or squeaking by. I also don’t want to support that financially.

I feel it is my duty to raise children who seek help when they need it but who are self-reliant and resourceful when they don’t; children who have as strong an EQ as possible but who also can be by themselves and enjoy that time; children who recognize how terribly fortunate they are and who feel a responsibility and desire to give back to their family and community; children who do not take their education for granted but also don’t succeed just to succeed but rather for the pleasure and journey incumbent in true learning; children who recognize that parents have needs too and that respecting our limits and rules is a sign of respect and maturation. In this context, I can see how praise for “nothing” could be damaging and hinder the goals I have for the boys.

One friend and I were talking yesterday about her feeling like she’s a critical parent, that perhaps her expectations are too great. I wasn't convinced. I mean, let’s be understanding about kids’ abilities at certain ages and respect personality differences, but after that, it seems quite reasonable to expect certain age-appropriate things of your children and to express disappointment (kindly, justly) when they shirk those responsibilities. I am a mother who wants to be at home and in the trenches of parenthood, but I am not a servant, and I do have my own needs.

This undercurrent of guilt that she expressed, that another friend mused about last week and that I certainly feel sometimes, weighs on the soul of the American mother in ways that seem unique. I don’t know many fathers who feel guilty about their parenting, and a friend, who wrote an essay examining the differences between American and European motherhood experiences said that in her research, she found little to suggest that Euro moms carry an albatross of guilt. Interesting. Is copious praise related to feelings of guilt (compensation or the like)? The line between incredible love and said praise is a blurry one. Food for thought, and I’d love to hear your thoughts and comments!

-originally published on 10 April 2012

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Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works through Elan.Works and is a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines and at TEDxRegina and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Motherly Musings on Praise and Support, part 2

In addition to a number of engaging conversations and emails in response to my recent post on praising and supporting children, I, just today, had several other experiences that got me thinking about this very subject yet again. The first was a discussion with a German friend whose eldest son is wrapping up the college admissions process; he’s deciding between two universities, both in Europe and both with undergraduate programs of no more than 3.5 years. Though he did well in high school here, he was rejected by many of the US schools to which he applied and was both baffled and stung by that. Knowing I’ve long worked in admissions at a top American university, my friend and I were hashing things out, and at one point I inquired about her son’s extra-curricular profile. She admitted that was his weakest link, and I commented that the lack of heft there might very well have tipped the scales against admission. While I think she had some sense of the import US schools place on who an applicant is extra-academically, she was emphatic in her disdain for activities as an integral part of the admissions process and her assertion that the extra-curricular “thing” was a uniquely American phenomenon in that realm. In her view, education is primarily about academics (and thusly, admissions decisions should be based mostly on one’s academic record), and by extension, college should not be a time of taking a smorgasbord of courses to see what you’re interested in -to find yourself- but to focus, learn, prepare and graduate.

I adore this friend -and lucky her, she looks like Helen Mirren- and good-naturedly told her that in this instance, we were on different sides of the coin. If I hadn’t had time to “find myself” academically in college, I’d be a miserable, probably not  terribly good, scientist of some sort. If you know me at all, the thought of this will surely leave you scratching your head in dumbfounded wonder.

Long story long (again), this conversation turned to that of parental support versus parental assertion, and this was super interesting. My friend and her husband are pushing their son to attend one of the European schools because they’re less expensive, shorter and you decide on an academic track before matriculating. The idea of floating around, partying here, trying some courses there, is appalling to her, especially in light of how much tuition is at most private schools in the States; I told her it was her Germanic pragmatism at work, but in all seriousness, there’s also a different mindset regarding the expectations  parents assert and the “freedoms” they value. She and her kids have a great relationship and she supports them completely, but they know that certain things are their responsibilities, no ifs, ands or buts about it. Support means something a little different in this context.

Have you read Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety by Judith Warner or read/heard of the new book, Bringing up Bébé, by Pamela Druckerman? I’ve read the former and heard much about the latter, both of which to varying degrees discuss the differential experiences of motherhood had by American and European moms. In this morning’s New York Times, a reader wrote in response to a recent book review of Bébé to say that the real difference isn’t American versus European but rather pre-1970 ways of parenting in America -parents weren’t their kids’ friends; they expected children to fit into their already established lives instead of moving heaven and earth to constellate their lives around their kids; parents led rather than “chased”- versus present-day parenting. In other words, there was much less coddling and much more “this is the way it is.” Interesting. Perhaps what we see as the “Euro” way of parenting today is really just what we’ve moved away from in the past few decades.

I think I fall in the middle of this spectrum, which is, by and large, what I was articulating in that last post on this subject and what I came away with from my talk with my friend today. I want my kids to have every opportunity, but while I can provide or facilitate them, they have to earn and take advantage of them. They have to put in the work, make the mistakes, learn from failures, rise to challenges. I will be beside them every step of the way, but I won’t do the work for them, and I will, when I think it’s educational or valuable, let them falter and fail.

In reading applications from transfer hopefuls right now, and in assessing undergraduate apps for many years now, I see again and again that some of the most interesting, most accomplished (in many different ways), most engaged and generous kids are those who’ve had to struggle in some way or at some time. Rich, poor, black, white, gay, straight, domestic, rural, urban, international…it’s what they’ve done with and in their own contexts that makes them interesting and the kinds of students who will be real assets in their classrooms, as peers and ultimately as citizens of the post-college world.

I think about this a lot when I read about kids who have really had a tough time of it but who are nonetheless determined to get an education and be successful; and conversely, kids who have had every opportunity but whose parents have done such a good job of not spoiling them, have made them appreciate what they have, have made them want to give back because of that. I think about it again when I guide, discipline and try my best to teach my kids. From challenge comes meaning, from doing something by yourself comes pride, from practicing something again and again comes respect for effort and perseverance, from helping others comes a sense of community, from failure or error comes humility.

If we shield our children from the gritty work that is life, even if that shielding comes only from the intense love we have for them, we do them a disservice, a mighty one I think.

-originally published on 14 April 2012

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Elan Morgan

Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works through Elan.Works and is a designer and content editor at GenderAvenger. They have been seen in the Globe & Mail, Best Health, Woman's Day, and Flow magazines and at TEDxRegina and on CBC News and Radio. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.