This is the first post I have written in a state of utter euphoria (previous posts have been written in other states that shall remain nameless). Why such joy? Well, I'll TELL you (drumroll). I just found out that I was accepted to the graduate Speech pathology program at the University of Washington, and I will be returning to school full time this fall!!! (insert sound of floor creaking as I jump up and down in a jiggly fashion). The glee I feel over this news is heightened by years of searching, self-doubt, and a remarkable ability to ignore my own desires and skills.
I first thought about becoming a speech pathologist 10 years ago, after spending all of my teenage/college years in a practice room with the desperate dream of becoming a professional opera singer. At that time I was mourning the loss of my opera dreams and looking for a way to use my extensive (yet seemingly pointless) expertise about the human voice for some greater good. Reeling from the loss of the opera star fantasies that formed my young adult identity, the speech pathology career path functioned as my "back-up" plan. In the world of career romance, it was the boring stable guy that I chose not to date because I was too busy chasing flaky musicians who wrote me beautiful songs but didn't stick around for the hard stuff. Not that I'm speaking from actual romantic experience (cough cough).
Since that time I've done a lot of career dating. I had a beautiful but short-lived love affair with music psychology research...which, I soon realized, was the same old musician dude disguised in the tweed and glasses of academia. Because when it comes down to it, academia can be a daunting stage where rotten tomatoes fly at you in the form of rejected grant proposals. Instead of critiquing each note you sing, the audience picks apart your methods, your area of interest, and your befuddled theories. Like a music career, the tomatoes and catty critiques are 100% worth it if it's truly your passion. But if it's not your passion, well, let's just say it's a lot to sacrifice for something you don't love.
Thankfully the stable career nerd stood by, prompting me to pursue a 2nd bachelors degree in speech and hearing science and a number of eye-opening teaching/clinical experiences. And my actual stable guy (i.e. my husband) stood by while I agonized over which career path to follow and how to fit it in with our family plans. I have said it before and I will say it again: Rob is a very very patient man.
And thus this past year, I finally got my career-promiscuity out of my system and decided to pursue my SLP dreams once and for all. I'm sure motherhood helped me get here. A few years ago I worked with a career counselor and could not answer the basic question: what do you like to do? Now I know. I like to help people, interact with people, use my brain, and use my extensive knowledge about communication for something besides my own performer ego.
I am approaching this new career relationship with a hard-earned appreciation of what really matters, and what will really make me (and thus my family- crucial connection I am finally getting) "HAPPY" on a day to day, 40+ hour per week basis.
I know this path won't be easy. There will be long nights of studying after Elliot goes to sleep, MORE student loan debt (if that's even legal), and what I'm sure will be a very challenging transition from being home with my sweet baby to dropping my big confident boy off at daycare. But like any healthy relationship, I know that if I put the work into it, it will provide far more satisfaction than any short-lived affair. So to the Speech Pathology admissions committee I would like to say a big fat "I DO!".
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
how to alienate other mothers, and other thoughts about playground etiquette
Recently I've identified the biggest source of negative feedback about my stay at home mother (SAHM) role. Her name is LANA. I've complained a great deal about how society doesn't understand what we SAHMs do, and how we don't get any validation for the hard work we put into parenting simply because we don't bring home a paycheck. This is true. But my numerous working mom friends never make me feel bad when I whine about various SAHM challenges. Instead they nod in support and say "yeah, I'm relieved to go to work sometimes because it's far easier!". And when I DO hear a voice saying rude things like "you don't deserve a break, you didn't even go to work today!" it is usually coming from my own hampster-wheel of a brain.
So I've decided that for now, the only way to quell this counterproductive inner monologue of Dutch origin is to treat parenthood like the challenging career that it is. It's a career that provides an abundance of learning opportunities and a vast array of "co-workers". And I get to choose my own work environment. The office has been a bit lonely so far, so I'm trying to leave the cubicle by taking Elliot to music classes, indoor playgrounds, swimming pool visits, and playdates. I've always hated desk jobs anyway.
One challenge I'm encountering in my new position is a lack of social grace. I just don't know what to talk about at the water cooler. For example, every time I take Elliot to an indoor play area, there are usually a few moments where I find myself standing next to another mother as our children play (or more often, ignore each other and play side by side).
You can tell when the other mom wants to talk. Her eager yet timid energy indicates that she is ready and willing to add a new mom friend to her network. Especially one with a similar work schedule. So I quickly scan my brain for potential conversation starters, and the options that typically pop up include: "how is your sex life after having kids?", "do you sometimes feel like you're going insane too?" and "I feed my kid lots of unhealthy crap b/c I'm desperate to get him to eat something/anything. What about you?".
For obvious reasons I usually opt to remain silent. And when on occasion the other mom works up the nerve to talk to ME, she typically displays excellent social etiquette by asking me things like "how old is your son?" or "do you guys live nearby?". I usually answer with great enthusiasm, smiling vigorously in an attempt to say "yes let's be friends!". And then I remain silent. Awkwardly, painfully, mournfully silent. Thankfully by this point Elliot's .05 second attention span has prompted him forth to other toys and locations, and I follow him with a sense of great relief, telling myself that NEXT time I'll keep the conversation flowing by asking the other mom about her child's sleep patterns, developmental milestones, etc. And at least I have the grace and hard-earned empathy to never ask THESE horrific questions.
I'm not too disturbed by my lack of social grace, because it hasn't hindered my social life in other areas. I feel blessed with an abundance of girlfriends and if anything, I wish I had more time to give to them. It's just that most of them work during the day when Elliot and I are looking for dates. [side note to my mommy friends who I DO get the chance to hang out with during the day- YOU ARE GODDESSES AND I LOVE YOU]. So I will continue to visit the water cooler and work on my SAHM etiquette. OR perhaps I'll just become a shockingly blunt SAHM who tells it like it is. Surely there must be a market for those?
So I've decided that for now, the only way to quell this counterproductive inner monologue of Dutch origin is to treat parenthood like the challenging career that it is. It's a career that provides an abundance of learning opportunities and a vast array of "co-workers". And I get to choose my own work environment. The office has been a bit lonely so far, so I'm trying to leave the cubicle by taking Elliot to music classes, indoor playgrounds, swimming pool visits, and playdates. I've always hated desk jobs anyway.
One challenge I'm encountering in my new position is a lack of social grace. I just don't know what to talk about at the water cooler. For example, every time I take Elliot to an indoor play area, there are usually a few moments where I find myself standing next to another mother as our children play (or more often, ignore each other and play side by side).
For obvious reasons I usually opt to remain silent. And when on occasion the other mom works up the nerve to talk to ME, she typically displays excellent social etiquette by asking me things like "how old is your son?" or "do you guys live nearby?". I usually answer with great enthusiasm, smiling vigorously in an attempt to say "yes let's be friends!". And then I remain silent. Awkwardly, painfully, mournfully silent. Thankfully by this point Elliot's .05 second attention span has prompted him forth to other toys and locations, and I follow him with a sense of great relief, telling myself that NEXT time I'll keep the conversation flowing by asking the other mom about her child's sleep patterns, developmental milestones, etc. And at least I have the grace and hard-earned empathy to never ask THESE horrific questions.
I'm not too disturbed by my lack of social grace, because it hasn't hindered my social life in other areas. I feel blessed with an abundance of girlfriends and if anything, I wish I had more time to give to them. It's just that most of them work during the day when Elliot and I are looking for dates. [side note to my mommy friends who I DO get the chance to hang out with during the day- YOU ARE GODDESSES AND I LOVE YOU]. So I will continue to visit the water cooler and work on my SAHM etiquette. OR perhaps I'll just become a shockingly blunt SAHM who tells it like it is. Surely there must be a market for those?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Confessions of an accidental stay at home mom.
I am now entrenched in the 3rd month of the unpaid yet utterly challenging and wonderful career path known as "being a stay at home parent". Moms who are really into being stay at home moms refer to themselves as "SAHM"s. But I'm hoping this post will reach an audience who is blissfully unaware of the underworld of parenting acronyms.
I did not choose to be a full-time "SAHM". Ideally, I would be working part time. That's what I was doing before my temporary job ended, and that's what I hope to do again. But I'm trying to appreciate this gift of time with my wonderful son who is growing up far too fast. Even if it means earning an overabundance of credit card points to pay for groceries and depleting our retirement fund to pay our mortgage.
Each day of my SAHM existence I try to practice gratitude for my healthy child and the unexpected gift of time with him. I mean look at the kid. He's ludicrously lovable! I also know women who deal with the heartbreak of infertility and sick children. So it pains me even more when I come to the occasional end of my SAHM rope and find myself thinking thoughts such as "I can't do this anymore!! This is not what I signed up for! And I clearly suck at this job because, for the love of all that is holy, my kid won't stop crying!" Welcome to Lana's brain. It can be a very volatile and unforgiving place.
This inability to be kind to myself, wherever it stems from, is the primary reason I struggle with being a full time mom. I will be the first to admit that the majority of time I don't know what the F*&% I'm doing. I was a fabulous preschool music teacher. But frankly, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what to do when my child is popping a tooth and proceeds to whine and act out ALL DAY LONG. I try to read the parenting books. But their brief and simplified anecdotes are about as relevant as Old Testament society's approach to menstruation (for more interesting and possibly fictional information on this "period" of history, refer to the wonderful novel The Red Tent). So I end up feeling demoralized each time Elliot cries. At times, my head becomes a battle of conflicting parenting theories that leave me feeling like a wishy-washy puddle of inconsistent goo.
Before I complain anymore, it is essential to say that I am incredibly lucky to have both an appreciative and helpful husband AND multiple sets of parental units in the area, all of whom provide extensive childcare breaks. These breaks allow me to maintain sanity by going for runs, doing errands, and writing cover letters and resumes (and whiny blog posts, apparently). I can't even imagine how women dealt with these struggles 50 years ago, when society inflicted even higher expectations and provided even fewer demonstrations of support.
But despite my amazing support network, I've still become a bit, erm, defensive of my current SAHM identity. Here is a list of factors that add to my defensiveness:
1) WE SAHMS don't get paid. We should. More evolved countries such as Holland and Austria (and the lesser known nation called "the Microsoft campus") pay mothers to take lengthy maternity leaves. That's the right idea.
2) We get more advice than probably ANY employee on the planet. And we can't tell ourselves "just kiss up to the boss and take his advice, it'll result in a big fat bonus!". There is no bonus. There is only annoyance and the desire to scream VERY VERY loud.
3) We don't live in community anymore. I'm not ready to move to a commune anytime soon. However, I'm fairly certain it's easier to be a "SAHM" when every single other woman in your tribe is doing it too. In imaginary tribe land, there is lots of gossiping and lots of kids for your child to play with for free, without a single lesson plan or registration fee. The best part of it all is that you don't have to email back and forth with the other moms 54 times to schedule a 30 minute playdate.
I could go on, and maybe I will in future whiny blog posts. But for now I'll leave it at this: Motherhood is miraculous. I am incredibly grateful for my child and the chance to be with him most of the day, each and every day. But when I DO return to the world of paid employees, I will never allow myself to look at a mom who stays at home with her children and think "huh, must be nice for you...". Instead I will look at her with immense respect and say, "hey superwoman, can I please have your autograph???".
I did not choose to be a full-time "SAHM". Ideally, I would be working part time. That's what I was doing before my temporary job ended, and that's what I hope to do again. But I'm trying to appreciate this gift of time with my wonderful son who is growing up far too fast. Even if it means earning an overabundance of credit card points to pay for groceries and depleting our retirement fund to pay our mortgage.
This inability to be kind to myself, wherever it stems from, is the primary reason I struggle with being a full time mom. I will be the first to admit that the majority of time I don't know what the F*&% I'm doing. I was a fabulous preschool music teacher. But frankly, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what to do when my child is popping a tooth and proceeds to whine and act out ALL DAY LONG. I try to read the parenting books. But their brief and simplified anecdotes are about as relevant as Old Testament society's approach to menstruation (for more interesting and possibly fictional information on this "period" of history, refer to the wonderful novel The Red Tent). So I end up feeling demoralized each time Elliot cries. At times, my head becomes a battle of conflicting parenting theories that leave me feeling like a wishy-washy puddle of inconsistent goo.
Before I complain anymore, it is essential to say that I am incredibly lucky to have both an appreciative and helpful husband AND multiple sets of parental units in the area, all of whom provide extensive childcare breaks. These breaks allow me to maintain sanity by going for runs, doing errands, and writing cover letters and resumes (and whiny blog posts, apparently). I can't even imagine how women dealt with these struggles 50 years ago, when society inflicted even higher expectations and provided even fewer demonstrations of support.
But despite my amazing support network, I've still become a bit, erm, defensive of my current SAHM identity. Here is a list of factors that add to my defensiveness:
1) WE SAHMS don't get paid. We should. More evolved countries such as Holland and Austria (and the lesser known nation called "the Microsoft campus") pay mothers to take lengthy maternity leaves. That's the right idea.
2) We get more advice than probably ANY employee on the planet. And we can't tell ourselves "just kiss up to the boss and take his advice, it'll result in a big fat bonus!". There is no bonus. There is only annoyance and the desire to scream VERY VERY loud.
3) We don't live in community anymore. I'm not ready to move to a commune anytime soon. However, I'm fairly certain it's easier to be a "SAHM" when every single other woman in your tribe is doing it too. In imaginary tribe land, there is lots of gossiping and lots of kids for your child to play with for free, without a single lesson plan or registration fee. The best part of it all is that you don't have to email back and forth with the other moms 54 times to schedule a 30 minute playdate.
I could go on, and maybe I will in future whiny blog posts. But for now I'll leave it at this: Motherhood is miraculous. I am incredibly grateful for my child and the chance to be with him most of the day, each and every day. But when I DO return to the world of paid employees, I will never allow myself to look at a mom who stays at home with her children and think "huh, must be nice for you...". Instead I will look at her with immense respect and say, "hey superwoman, can I please have your autograph???".
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