I Want A ‘MOM’s Club’ (alternate title: God Help My New PTA)

I took my eldest to Kindergarten today. While the emotions are ravaging my mind and soul tonight, I can’t help but exhale a bit.

He did great. He seems great. Life moves on.

So while the Mom in me grapples with time passing and children growing, the woman in me is rather pissed off.

Expectations are killing me.

As most of you know, I work.

I work like millions of Americans and like millions of other mothers and fathers.

What is making me angry, and what I can’t wrap my head around tonight, is why my parenting expectations are so much higher than my husband’s.

He works, too.

But there are special ‘clubs’ at school for Dads, catering to ‘finding opportunities for father’s to participate’ in school functions. Me? It’s just expected.

So there I was, signing up for a few volunteer positions (because if I didn’t god only knows what doom it would spell for my child or our future at a brand new school) and my husband is afforded the luxury of ‘Dads Club.’

Which, mind you, he nearly skipped signing up for because…you know…he works.

I realize there are larger things at work here like society and culture and biological predispositions…but stay with me.

As a thinking person I realize that regardless of work, I need to be involved in my child’s school. It’s not convenient. I have a million other things to do, but ‘work’ is not an excuse to get out of it.

The only thing that makes this even slightly manageable – I work from home. What about the millions of mothers who leave the house to work daily? Who punch a clock? And is my work diminished because I DO work from home?

You just work from home…you can come sell cookies and help organize the fundraiser.

Why are all these working women expected to participate, while their male counterparts are given a pass? Or a special fucking club, like if they show up they are already 10 steps ahead of any other working father on the planet.

Reminds me of the Dads (of which my husband is one) that actually change diapers and give baths and suck out snot with the bulb thingy. You’d think they had walked on water from all the praise they received for participating in their child’s life.

Every time I think we’ve made progress, I am confronted with the reality of our society expecting everything of  women when it comes to raising children. Nevermind there is another capable adult in the mix.

Oh, that guy? Yes well, he works.

No one thinks anything of raising an eyebrow if I dare text on my blackberry while sitting at a school function, yet those same no ones don’t even glance when the guy in the suit gets a call during Kindergarten RoundUp and he spends 3 minutes whispering into his cell.

Obviously, he’s a guy. In a suit. It MUST be very important.

Me? Oh you know, not much at all. Just feeling like not paying attention to my child’s teacher momentarily to do something as UNimportant as reply to Barack Obama and John McCain’s staff.

It has nothing to do with gender roles or societal norms. It has everything to do with being a parent.

Which is why, at my very first PTA meeting, I just might have to ask for a MOM’s Club. You know, to find those ‘opportunities’ for involvement in my child’s education.

Or maybe I’ll just sign up for the Dad’s Club.

School’s in session.

Preschooler Thwarts TSA, Film at 11

I really did see this one coming.

I just didn’t expect the TSA to be involved.

That whole “we will not negotiate with terrorist” thing isn’t true.

The TSA totally negotiated with my 3-year old and make no mistake, she’s a terrorist.

Sleepy Girl in a Ford Taurus X

With sleepy eyes and stuffed puppy in her hand, I buckled my darling daughter into her car seat at 5am, hoping the time of day didn’t spell doom for our trip back to Los Angeles from Detroit. We had kissed our family good bye (yes, Nana cried…she always does) and woke before dawn for a 7am plane ride.

I was entirely prepared. I did everything the night before- I even packed the snacks and goodies and toys. There was a spot in the bag for the night’s pj’s and clothes were laid out. I missed nothing and I went to bed feeling organized and accomplished and entirely sure of myself.

Silly Mommy.

My first clue that our trip home was going to go all wrong came when my daughter winced at walking through the airport. She wanted to be carried. But as Mom is trying to get all the luggage to the counter and carry ons and hold hands…the “carry me” thing just wasn’t going to work. Both kids were already whining once we got up to the counter and they had to wait again in the security line.

As we entered the line a very nice TSA agent looked over our boarding passes and asked my son his age.

“I’m 5!”

“And what about you little girl?”

…and the little girl buried her face in my leg, refusing to even look at the man talking to her who smiled and handed me back our tickets.

We made our way several feet to the xray line, and I got the kids de-shoed and un-backpacked and got my laptop ready and felt, again, rather organized and accomplished.

Silly Mommy.

Despite the fact that we have done this dozens of times, my youngest decided things needed to change. The procedure was incomplete and something was amiss.

I noticed that look on her face as I set down a bag on the conveyor belt. You know the kind of look where you can see their lip turn under, but you’re not exactly sure if they will be crying, laughing. or asking to go potty.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Honey we have to go, it’s our turn, come on…”

“No! I don’t want to go. I want to DO IT AGAIN!”

“Do what again honey? We need to move, come on…people are waiting.”

and with that the floodgates opened and every parent’s worst attitude nightmare began.

People moved around us, some with looks of sympathy, others with looks of confusion, and still others with that “please dear god tell me that family is NOT on my plane” look.

There was crying. There was screaming. There was the classic on the floor kicking and arm throwing thing. At one point she even folded her arms and “hmmmph’d” me mid bellow.

I tried the stern Mom thing first.

Then I got threatening.

Then came sweet and nice reasoning.

Then came bribing.

The screaming and crying and flailing continued.

Of course I tried to just manhandle her and carry her through. But she was doing that wiggle thing kids do with the back arch- and pulling out her patented go-to move…yelling for Daddy.

So imagine, if you will, what you might think if you saw a woman trying to carry an unwilling preschooler through airport security while she SCREAMED at the very top of her lungs “I WANT MY DADDY WHERE IS MY DADDY GET ME MY DADDY!”

Yeah, exactly.

That’s about when TSA pulled us aside. Me trying to wrangle the screaming and kicking girl while her brother held both hands over his ears yelling “MOM MAKE HER STOP!”

Of course it’s hard for a TSA agent to question me over custody while a 3-year old screams. A GIRL 3-year old. Because, trust me, it’s a tone and pitch you just don’t get with the boys. I was quickly allowed to attempt, again, to get through the xray.

This time I just carried her. On the other side another very nice TSA agent tried to help me gather our belogings. I’m sure he’s still regretting that move, because just as he got a bag on my shoulder Little Miss Yells-A-Lot swung around and kicked him in the thigh.

Yes, my daughter kicked a TSA agent.

I apologized profusely and then gave my girl a look that finally seemed to scare her to death and she became slightly reasonable. She still huffed and puffed and demanded she put her shoes on herself and then walked slow as a snail, head down and pouting to our gate…where the doors were closed and the plane to Los Angeles was pulling away.

You would think it ends here. But no.

Upon learning we missed our plane my 5-year old broke down in tears. So I had two kids pouting and crying or crying and pouting while I tried to decide if flying standby all day was worth it, or if I should just head back to my aunt’s house.

I went with option b. And after a shuttle bus ride to get a car and car seats and traffic for 2 hours (and a dead bird, which we hit on our way) I collapsed on a couch and decided I was never flying with my children anywhere ever again for the rest of their lives.

Silly Mommy

Where I Am From

Ford Test Track Dearborn, MI

stclairinn

MotherHood Isn’t Messing With My Beauty, But Shampoo Is

I love Laurie Berkner. The Kids love Laurie Berkner- but check out the Sauve ad on her WalMart Soundcheck show.

Sigh.

“Is Motherhood messing with your beauty?”

Sure is…

I am beautifully unaware of that crap.


Hat-tip Spare the Rock, Spoil the Child

Two Candidates, One Blogger: A Michigan Homecoming

I don’t know how else to write this, so I’m just going to be blunt.

It can be very depressing to hang out in metro-Detroit.

I’ve been back “home” visiting family for 48 hours now, and the stories of lay-offs and foreclosure and moves out-of-state are overwhelming.

In all honesty, downtown looks terrible. The suburbs are littered with for-sale signs.

My family and friends continue to keep on, keeping on.

At a family gathering on Sunday, the typical occurred.

We ate and the kids ran around.

The adults sitting around the patio talked about what the ‘Big 3’ needs to do, my Aunt got animated discussing how she doesn’t like Senator Obama (she doesn’t ‘trust him’), another Uncle told a racist joke (no one laughed this time), and I very quietly listened.

While I attempted to be stealth and ninja like listening…my blackberry gave out a huge DING DING DING, and all eyes fell on me.

They know what I do at BlogHer, and had been careful choosing their words around me all day.

With a half dozen pairs of eyes on me, I looked down, and read aloud: “Sen Obama to Unveil His ‘New Energy for America‘ Plan in Speech Monday. From Lansing. ”

Everyone got quiet.

We ate desert and talked gradually picked up again.

Cynicism and cautious optimism abound.

“Lansing …from Michigan. Could be risky. Could be brilliant,” said one uncle.

“He should do it here, they need it most here,” said my Mom.

“I don’t care what he says, I just don’t like him,” said an aunt.

So it was with great interest my mother, my aunt, and I watched the Senator speak from Lansing this morning.

As the Senator discussed his very detailed New Energy for America plan, touted by Climate Progress as “…easily the best energy plan ever put forward by a nominee of either party…” republicans were emailing me to let me know they were handing out tire gauges to mock Obama’s reminders that keeping your tires properly inflated saves gas.

They were mocking a gas saving tip while sending this to my inbox:

“Today, I’m asking for your help in putting Senator Obama’s “tire gauge” energy policy to the test. With an immediate donation of $25 or more, we will send you an “Obama Energy Plan” tire pressure gauge. Will simply inflating your tires reduce the financial burden of high gas prices on your wallet?

It’s clear Senator Obama has no plan to address the energy challenges we face as a nation. He has said no to offshore drilling, no to expanding domestic drilling and no to nuclear energy. He has no plan to reduce our dependence on foreign oil.”- Rick Davis Campaign Manager, John McCain 2008.

I read this aloud to my Mom.

She threw her hands in the air, entirely disgusted. She was watching Senator Obama give detailed information, point-by-point, on a plan that not just reduces our dependence on foreign oil but rids of us reliance on Middle East oil on 10 years.

“Why do they do that?”

My Mom asked, still shaking her head over the McCain Campaign email.

For the record NASCAR and the US Department of Energy agree with Senator Obama on the whole tire gauge thing, and the GOP is trying to make a joke of this:

Sugar writes, “Oh gosh I know the Ozoids are writhing even as I write this! lmao I tell you, the McCain camp is making this fun for me again because it is such a joy to see an opponent who doesn’t have the constraints that Hillary did, giving it to Obama raw. Hillary couldn’t ream him like she should have because of that party unity bullshit, but the McCain camp doesn’t have anything to lose…but the election…and they are going all out to ensure that they don’t. I’m loving it. “

But if they’d like to know how their “joke” played with Michigan voters….jokes on them. I’ve got several here either not getting it or disgusted with the gimmick.

They don’t want campaign gimmicks. They want jobs.

The tit-for-tat over who misspoke where over what isn’t playing well with this crowd. Not unless those jokes can pay their mortgage.

Meanwhile, my Aunt (undecided who she is supporting) is listening closer than I thought she would.

I can tell.

My Mom let’s out a ‘WOW’ at Obama saying his plan will create five million new green jobs. My Aunt raised an eyebrow and says “well that’s good.”

TankWoman writes, “I switched to CNN, and was pleasantly surprised by Obama’s plan. Okay, I take that back, I was more than pleasantly surprised, I was excited and inspired by the ideas that Obama spoke about this morning in the birthplace of the auto industry. And though I know that this speech was tailor made for Michigan, and designed to strengthen his poll numbers, I believe that this energy plan is the only way forward for our nation, and that if Obama is serious and dedicated to these issues, we may have a solution not only to climate change, but to the ailing economy.

The things that we need to do to stall the oncoming danger of climate change, are the very things that Obama outlined in his speech. We must invest heavily in alternative energy, if we don’t come up with the capital to take the risk out of these start-up industries, they will fail. We need investment tax credits for solar energy, and wind power, without them, there are major solar projects that will move to Europe, and the wind farms will not get built here, but move to Germany. Our auto industry is near bankruptcy, Ford and GM have reported the lowest sales in nearly 30 years.”

She’s right.

I’m here.

I’m seeing the factories empty and the friends and family members collecting unemployment. It’s been happening for a long time now, and there needs to be a real solution in bringing back not just this state’s economy, but the nation’s.

Tomorrow Senator McCain comes to town to tour a Nuclear Plant. Fermi 2, to be exact.

The same plant I see every time I visit my hometown. I’ll be watching and listening closely to compare the Senator from Arizona’s ideas to the Senator from Illinois.

And after spending the day with my family excited about Obama’s ambitious plan to provide real solutions to the people of Michigan-

Senator McCain had better show up with more than a tire gauge.

Cross posted at blogher.com

Of Cares and Cars

Dock

I’m in my hometown near Detroit.

The boats are on the water, kids are in bathing suits at every lake, and my family is near.

With a Ford in the driveway here, and a Chysler parked in front of my California home, there is nothing I’d like to see more than this city and state revived.

Energy policies, economic incentives. They don’t seem to matter much when you’re helping your sure-of-foot 5-year old down his first wobbly, Michigan dock.

I miss this town. I’m still proud of this town.

I am happy to be home.

I’ve Heard Enough Singing from the NetRoots

I’m the first to admit I am hard-headed.

and the readers laugh

I make a decision on something, and I get passionate about it. As if I’m leading a cult, I whip a frenzy of followers into getting passionate too and we march into battle.

Then somewhere along the lines, usually while marching, I realize I am probably being a wee bit extreme about the whole thing and maybe, just maybe, there is a more sensible way to approach this whole ‘battle.’ Which may or may not have really been a battle in the first place.

I’d like to think the difference between myself, and (for example) the community over at Daily Kos, is somewhere along the lines I catch myself and adjust.

I calm down.

I think.

I listen.

I do this, usually, while continuing to stand up for what I believe, adjusting my fight, and making sure I do all of the above in a manner that won’t SCREW my candidate.

I was willing to give my passionate friends over at Kos a hat tip and nod after the FISA uproar. I was willing to let the NetRoots be fringe, or bleeding edge-as the kid’s say.

Then they went and banned my friend Lee Stranahan.

Daily Kos. Banning.

No, no…really.

The liberal, ‘censorship sucks, we hate those who won’t listen to our point of view’ blog of the NetRoots, Daily Kos.

Now I’m convinced they are extremists who are no better than the Neo-Con, censoring, fundies.

Can I just remind you, oh holier than thou NetRoots…the Democratic candidate is a man who brings everyone to the table. He hears everyone out. He strives to make everyone work together- regardless of extremism.

I may not LIKE or support the idea of offshore drilling, but I do understand that we can’t just shut out one point of view. I may not LIKE the compromise on FISA, but I sure as hell understand that we need to take small steps in order to take giant ones. I may not LIKE that a liberal blogger is talking about the alleged Edwards affair, but I sure as HELL need to listen and be AWARE.

You can keep sticking your fingers in your ears and singing lalalalalalalalalalalalala. It’s one of my own favorite go-to moves. But trust me, in the end I catch myself. Because I just spent 8 years with an administration that sang a lot and didn’t listen. With a nation of conservatives hell bent on refusing to hear why I didn’t want prayer in my schools and why I wanted to control my own reproduction.

They didn’t want to listen. And once in power, they felt they didn’t have to listen.

Flash forward to 2008 and the power of the blogosphere.

You may not want to listen. Hell, I don’t want to listen.

But you have to listen.

Hold candidates accountable, reasonably march into battle….

…just take your fingers out of your damn ears and make room at the table for everyone.

*editor’s note: Lee Stranahan is tonight’s guest on Sunday Inquisition. Let’s hear it right from him….

Erin Kotecki Vest is usually over at Queen of Spain Blog causing trouble. Or behaving. Depending.