The superman… has organized the chaos of his passions, given style to his character, and become creative. — Nietzsche.

(And what is the leaping, be-clogged Space Ranger but an Uber-Mensch? What is he, indeed? Ecce Jasper.)

(Because she celebrates me every day. Because she is – as she said – so lucky to have me. Because it’s worth knowing that, and saying that.)

(Check out Every Mother Counts. Because they do.)

]]> http://herbadmother.com/2012/05/a-day-for-all-the-other-mothers/feed/ 0 http://herbadmother.com/2012/05/on-being-mom-enough-to-have-the-conversation-that-time-started/ http://herbadmother.com/2012/05/on-being-mom-enough-to-have-the-conversation-that-time-started/#comments Fri, 11 May 2012 15:52:00 +0000 Her Bad Mother http://herbadmother.com/?p=5125

Here’s the thing: I don’t much care one way or another about the photo that appears on the cover of the upcoming issue of TIME. I mean, I have opinions about it – I have opinions about everything – but it doesn’t rile me up in any way. Nor am I provoked by the subject matter of the article at hand. It’s about attachment parenting, which is as worthy a topic for discussion as any. Sure, it’s more substantively about whether attachment parenting sets too high a bar for moms, which is somewhat provocative, but I think that that’s a worthy question. The title that appears on the cover – ‘Are You Mom Enough?’ – is probably the most provocative part of the package – I mean, it pretty much shouts the question and demands an answer, and I think that that kind of challenge, the challenge to moms to ask themselves whether they measure up, is problematic at its core – and I kind of really hated it. But even given that, I don’t know that I would change it.

I wouldn’t change it, or the photo that accompanies it, or the articles that appear inside, because these are provoking discussion. It’s a discussion that is uncomfortable at times, to be sure – how we measure the success or failure of our motherhood is a particularly sensitive pain point within our community, for obvious reasons – but the fact that it’s an uncomfortable conversation doesn’t mean that it’s not worth having. Because regardless of we feel about questions concerning judgment and measurement and how we evaluate ourselves and each other – whether we should, in fact, evaluate ourselves or each other at all – they are questions that persist. They’re there. Sometimes we talk about them, sometimes we don’t; sometimes the conversations that we have about them are public, sometimes they’re private. But whether or not they’re out in the open – on TIME magazine covers or on blogs or around kitchen tables or in hushed whispers over glasses of wine – they’re there. And they inform our motherhood, and our understanding of our motherhood, and the communities that we build around our motherhood. Ignoring them doesn’t change that.

So when I see people deploring the conversation – the cries for us all to just stop talking about it already – I recoil a little bit. Why should we stop talking about it? Because it fuels the so-called Mommy Wars? The tensions underlying those ‘wars’ are already there. Those are live wires. We should be paying attention to them. We don’t make the judgments and vulnerabilities and pain points go away by pretending that they don’t exist. Sure, there’s an argument to be made that media discussion of these things foments conflict – but whatever conflict emerges here does not emerge from nothing. It emerges from real tensions, real issues. And I’m enough of an old-school Habermasian to believe that we need a robust public discourse – an engaged, lively community conversation – about these issues if we’re to work them through. Or perhaps not work them through – and here I become less Habermasian and more Socratic – but keep them alive and apparent and part of the ongoing discourse that makes us who we are.

This is power of this space, as I’ve said here many times before: we have not just created a robust public platform for our storytelling and community building, we have transformed storytelling and community, and with our story-driven, discursive community are changing how we think and talk and engage and connect around motherhood and womanhood and family — things that were so for long marginal to public discourse. We’re not just changing the conversation, we are changing the very nature of public conversation such that it almost no longer makes sense to distinguish public conversation from private.

We are the conversation. So why are we trying to shut ourselves down? Let’s embrace this conversation – even, or perhaps especially, the parts where people say that they don’t like it or that it makes them uncomfortable or that they thing that the conversation itself hurts us – and dig into it. Let’s talk it out – or at least talk it forward. These discursive provocations are a gift, an opportunity.

Let’s seize them. Who’s with me?

I’ve been participating in the ‘No Mother’s Day’ campaign – the brainchild of Christy Turlington Burns and her organization, Every Mother Counts – and will continue to do until Mother’s Day on Sunday. But not everyone agrees with the campaign. For some, it’s the message of the campaign – that we set aside the celebration of ourselves as mothers in order to draw attention to those who die in childbirth (isn’t celebrating mothers central to valuing mothers, and shouldn’t we seize every opportunity that we can to turn our attention to the value of mothers?) For others, it’s the strategy of the campaign, which encourages silence (not everyone agrees that silence is a useful – or empowering, or effective, or meaningful – strategy. Shouldn’t we raise our voices, they ask? Shouldn’t we FIGHT silence?) It’s a controversial campaign, and one, I think, that raises great questions around how we use our platforms for social good. So I sat down with Christy to talk it through.

Catherine: So, Christy… obviously I know about the campaign. I was in the video. I get it. But tell us- what do you hope will happen when people see this campaign? What is your goal?

CTB: Well first of all I just hope they watch the video- I really think it does a great job explaining what we’re trying to do. And I hope they’ll share it with their networks as well. I love that we have some comments and questions coming in on the website- that’s the whole idea! My original hope was just that people would consider the facts we present in the No Mothers Day film and then in turn question them. People are thinking about it, talking, reacting. All those people are now aware. And that’s incredible because now hopefully those same people will come join us at everymothercounts.org to solve it together.

Catherine: Right, but going silent won’t save lives, right? What do you say to those who worry this effort won’t really have an impact?

CTB: No if all we had to do was go silent then I think we really could solve this pretty quickly. No Mothers Day was not designed to be an immediate solution. By not answering your phone or responding to email on May 13th you won’t save a life today, but you could be a part of saving thousands of lives from that day onward. Until a majority of the public is aware that there is a problem, we won’t be moved to solve it, and this is the role of No Mothers Day – to get their attention, begin a dialogue and build a community of activists. We believe that once people know the facts, they will want to do what they can and come to us to find ways to engage. We want people to become aware of the problem but perhaps more importantly, become aware that there are solutions and that their participation is needed and welcome.

Catherine: So what do you say to moms of young kids? Is this really about ignoring your kids on Mother’s Day?

CTB: We understand how important Mother’s Day is to you. All of us are mothers too, and having our children bring us breakfast in bed or making us a special gift is something we’d be really sad to go without. But the scale of the tragedy of maternal mortality is so great, and there are so many families around the world unable to celebrate Mother’s Day, that this is a sacrifice that we’re prepared to make if it raises awareness around the problem and encourages people to provide support and funding to help solve it. What action you choose to take is up to you. Say no to gifts and phone calls, or no to gifts and yes to phone calls, or just go silent on social media – it’s your choice. Or maybe the options we came up with on our Facebook page don’t work for you- that’s ok. Come up with your own way to engage and ‘disappear’. It’s about finding a way to spread the word and join in solidarity with our sisters in motherhood and that can be a very personal choice. Our primary hope is that you spend a few moments on May 13th to think about those unable to do the same.

Catherine: Do you have any advice on how parents might use this campaign as a ‘teachable moment’ with their kids? How are you talking to your children about ‘no mother’s day’?

CTB: I think of everything as a teachable moment so yes, most definitely. If our children ask, as mine have, what we may want for Mother’s Day we can explain to them that many moms do not survive childbirth and that that leaves millions of children without mothers every year. I tell my kids I am lucky to have them and they are lucky to have me.

Catherine: And what next? How does this fit into your overall plans with EMC?

CTB: NMD is a moment in time – it’s designed to get attention. Every Mother Counts is an ongoing advocacy and mobilization campaign. As such, we hope to educate and inspire new audiences to engage on this issue. We hope that No Mothers Day will get people’s attention and shock them with facts, and then in turn, we hope they’ll be moved to do more. Following the No Mothers Day campaign we will have a revamped, action-oriented website with the goal of becoming the epicenter for maternal health information. We hope that those interested in engaging will come to think of us as an action resource center.

Please consider taking part in this campaign (I am, obviously). Even if it only prompts a conversation with your spouse or your kids or your friends, consider that meaningful. Every show of support counts. Every mother counts. Let’s make this count. You can find more information, and the video, at Every Mother Counts. Please check it out.

*cross-posted at Bad Mother Confidential.

This Mother’s Day, I’m foregoing Mother’s Day. I’m asking my family to forgo the flowers and the brunch. I’m telling my husband that I don’t need a gift. I’m telling my mother that I adore her and esteem her, but that instead of a card I’ll be making a donation in her name to Every Mother Counts.

I’m foregoing Mother’s Day, as a show of solidarity with all those women – all those mothers – who don’t get a Mother’s Day. If we don’t all get Mother’s Day, why should I get Mother’s Day? If Mother’s Day isn’t for every mother, why should it be for any mother? We are all important. We all matter. Let this be for all of us, or for none of us.

So. I’m participating in a campaign of silence. I hope that you’ll join me. It’s up to you how you interpret this silence, how you engage in this silence – whether you do this literally or figuratively, in large ways or small – but I do hope that you will join me.

Let’s bring our silences together. And let’s let them be deafening.

So, this party that I’m going to have. It’s coming together.

But it hasn’t been easy. You can’t just get materials for a Kittens, Firemen & Tequila Party at your local party supply store, because they tend to not keep kittens and firemen in stock. So as I’ve already made clear, the fireman is going to have to have a virtual presence. Which is fine, I think. He’s not nearly as important as the kittens.

The kittens, however. I have to admit that I may have difficulty acquiring the kittens. Live kittens just aren’t practical, you know? And kitten plushies just aren’t as compelling as real kittens. So I may just put cunning little French berets on my two aged Siamese and try to pass them off as kitten-ish.

The tequila, though? That’s the easiest part. I even have a Very Special Tequila Drink that I will be serving, and I usually don’t do Very Special Drinks. I’m usually an on-the-rocks kind of girl – yes, even with tequila – or a margarita on the rocks with salt. But this drink? The one that I’m going to share with you now, so that you can practice making it and drinking in advance of The Kittenish Cats, Virtual Fireman & Tequila party? It is AWESOME.

So, behold:

Catherine’s Very Special Super Awesome Tequila Drink That Will Totally Make You Think That An Aging Siamese Is Actually A Himalayan Kitten (aka Cucumber Lime Martini,  Reverse-Engineered From One That I Once Had In Austin, Texas.) (You can totally drink this on Cinco de Mayo, by the way. In fact, I encourage it.)

Ingredients:

Sauza Tequila (duh)

2 cucumbers, peeled and sliced as thin as you can get them (see-through thin, not cucumber sandwich thin)

4 cups water

Quarter cup of sugar

Tablespoon or two of lime (with some lime left over to squirt)

Chili-lime powder (or cayenne)

What to do:

In small saucepan, bring the water and the sugar to a boil over medium heat. Simmer the mixture until the sugar has dissolved into a sugary liquid. Set it aside to cool for a minute. Resist doing tequila shots. Or don’t.

In a blender, combine the syrup (melty sugar water mixture), cucumber, water, and lime juice until smooth. Strain the mixture into a pitcher. Add a quarter cup of tequila and mix well. Fill a martini shaker with ice and add about 1 cup of the mixture, which you shall heretofore regard as the nectar of the gods. If you like a little spicy garnish, rim your martini glass in chile-lime, or cayenne (I like cayenne.)

Shake well and serve. And enjoy. And it you’re inclined to share your favorite drink recipe, I would not be averse to that.

(This post is sponsored by Sauza. As I said last time, I was invited to visit the set of this video – with this lovely lady – which invitation I did of course take advantage of, and so got to meet the fireman and the kitten and it was really pretty awesome. And caused me to think that I should have a Fireman & Kitten & Tequila party. As one does.)

Make a wish, and let…

it…

go.

(Way, way up, to soar and soar and soar and dance and touch and kiss the clouds.)

(This is how we navigated, with our children, the sometimes difficult truth that balloons – and especially Disney balloons, which cannot be transported home on airplanes to live out their natural lives in Emilia’s bedroom – are not forever: we told them that if you set a balloon free, you get a wish.

And wish they did.)

(On location at Disney World, Disney Social Media Moms event, where many wishes danced.)

Okay, look. I’m just going to give you fair warning: I’m going to dork out a little here. Actually, a lot. I wasn’t expecting to dork out, even though I have a very low threshold for dorking. But I did dork out. I am dorking out. About being at Disney World. As a Cast Member.

I don’t know why it makes such a difference. Disney World hasn’t changed since I was here last year. I haven’t really changed, either, except in the usual ways that one changes over the course of a year. (Yes, much in my life has changed. America. New York. Babble. But I haven’t changed. Mostly.) But it somehow makes a difference, having this little silver pass in my pocket, and sundry cards upon which the imprint The Walt Disney Company, and being able to say, I’m a Cast Member. I guess because, I’m now family, and becoming part of a family that you love is kind of a rush.

Of course, one of the things that is wonderful about Disney is that it is so inclusive, so welcoming. Everyone is family here. Everyone belongs. Everyone gets to participate in the happy. Say what you want about it being a business, about it being a global corporation — it is nonetheless – fully nonetheless – a bubble of happiness. And I love being part of that bubble.

I love it a lot.

/DORK DORK DORK

I wrote this post a couple of years ago, in a moment of desperate hand-wringing about what it means to do good online. I’ve been thinking about it a lot in recent weeks, as I’ve dug further into social good efforts, here and at Babble. I love using social media for social good, and exploring what it means to use social media for social good, and finding more and better ways to use social media for social good – but the question always emerges, ‘isn’t this good for you, too? And doesn’t that complicate things?’ The answer to which is, yes, and, maybe. And also: see below.

Here’s the thing about doing good, and it’s a moral problem that philosophers and theologians have worried over for millenia: is there such a thing a pure altruism? Do we ever – can we ever – really do good without considering – even just a little teeny eeny bit – how doing such good is for our own good?

I’ve taught philosophy. I’ve sat in rooms with earnest 19 year olds and looked them in the eye and said, we are always concerned for our own good. Always. Unless we are Jesus or Socrates, and even then. Then I’ve sat back and let them yell at me.

But it’s true, I think. Whatever good we do, we do for some reward. We do it for a place in heaven, or to boost our reputation, or to please our loved ones, or to just please ourselves, to feel good. When Socrates was asked by Glaucon to explain whether any man would be good if doing so guaranteed pain and censure and misery – Glaucon’s point being that man (his term) is only good because society tells him to be, or because he gains some other reward – Socrates responded with an extended discussion of how the good soul is good in itself, etc. But as I used to tell my students during these tricky discussions of Plato’s Republic, we’re still left with a good. Socrates’s objective, after all, is to persuade Glaucon that the truly good life – the philosophic life, in his view – is worth making all manner of sacrifice to pursue. Glaucon needs to be seduced to such a life; he will only pursue it if he thinks that it is best for him.

This is true for all of us. Why we think a certain action/effort/choice/life is best differs from community to community, person to person, but still. We only do what serves us. We are not, none of us, truly selfless.

I think about this a lot in the context of blogging. I have, in the past, written about my nephew, Tanner, who is dying of Duchenne’s Muscular Dystrophy. I have told myself that I write about him to raise awareness of, and money for, DMD. I have told myself that I write about him to work through my feelings about what he is going through and what my sister is going through and what our family is going through. I write about him in the service of a greater good, but I also write about him for me, because it serves me. It makes me feel better. It makes me feel like I’m doing something, like I’m contributing in some way to his life, to the cause. It eases the strain on my heart.

And I write a lot, now, about other causes. About maternal health. About bringing about the end of maternal transmission of HIV. About the welfare of women and mothers in other parts of the world. About the empowerment of girls. About post-partum depression. About how storytelling can serve all these causes. About how the Internet can serve all these causes.

And all of this does some good. I know this. It’s why I do this. But, but… writing about these things means other things, too. It brings opportunities, adventures. In the case of Tanner, it boosts blog traffic, and comments. And that’s where I start to worry. Because although increased blog traffic means that more people are seeing his story, it also means that more people are seeing me, and I never want my motivations to become confused in this regard. This is a worry with telling any story that is not my own, when that story is intended to serve some greater good, but in Tanner’s case in particular, it’s a pain point. I never, ever, want to write about Tanner to get attention for myself, not even of that motivation is sub-conscious, buried. I never want his pain to be good for me. And so I’ve written about him less and less, because things are getting worse for him, the story is getting sadder, and I do not do not do not want to exploit that, not even to just make myself feel better, to talk it out, as they say.

But it’s a fine and blurry line, because his story could help others and raising awareness is always good, right? And so what if it serves me? Why do I worry?

I worry because I feel a little sick whenever I notice that Tanner is good for traffic. I feel sick even writing the words, Tanner is good for traffic.

I thought about this when I was asked today, by more than a few people, whether I would use my blogging platforms to raise money for Haiti. Lots of people are donating a dollar for every comment that they get, said this person and another and another. The Pioneer Woman is doing it. Are you going to do it?

Wow, I thought. I am not the Pioneer Woman, but the comparison is nice. And: that would probably yield a lot of comments. I’m donating anyway, but: comments. Traffic. Those are good. For me.

And then I felt a little sick. Haiti doesn’t need my blog to get more comments. Haiti needs my money. Haiti also, arguably, could benefit from me getting the word out to my community, even if my community is smaller that the Pioneer Woman’s. Haiti will certainly benefit from the Pioneer Woman getting the word out to her many millions of readers; the discursive-slash-awareness benefit of the Pioneer Woman pegging a fundraising campaign to her blog is, no doubt, significant. But I am not the Pioneer Woman. Would I really be raising awareness, or would I just be boosting my own numbers? What would Haiti get out of this? Would I do the same thing if it were Tanner? Does it matter? Arguably, it doesn’t matter what I get out of this, either way, whether I get something or nothing at all. But I worry about this stuff, so.

I responded to one person, and then another, that I wouldn’t be doing it. Then I tweeted it instead of responding to everyone else. Which, I never recommend doing. Because, invariably, if you make a statement about a decision that you’ve made that reflects upon the decisions of others, others will get mad at you for judging by implication others whose decisions are different from yours, which always, always sucks.

I said in my tweet, referring to Haiti and fundraising and the decision to not peg my donation to comments: this isn’t about me. And somebody said, by saying that, you’re implying that for some people, it is about them. Which, yes. I was implying that. What I wasn’t implying – regardless of my own choice – was that that’s wrong. I was just implying that it is, and stating that I wanted to choose differently, for me. Because, yes, this is what I think: that when you pursue some social good in a manner that provides a clear benefit to you, you are, in some way, making it about you. You are serving your own good. You are making choices as to how to act for the greater good with very clear reference as to how so doing will benefit you. We all do this. We all must do this. We’re self-interested creatures, and as every political philosopher worth his or her salt since Socrates has argued, we would just never get anything done as communities if we didn’t locate our own good in those communities. And we would never do anything good as individuals if we didn’t see some benefit – large or small, material or immaterial – to doing good. So looking to our own good in the service of some greater good isn’t wrong. I’d have to return my Tom’s Shoes and all those products with pink ribbons if I thought it were.

But I think that it is important that we examine our motivations whenever our own good becomes a factor – a factor that we can see and recognize as such – in deciding how we will act. I think that it is important, to living well, to always examine our motivations – am I doing this for me, or for the cause? – and to ask ourselves whether we are serving the best good when we take our own good into consideration, whether there is a harmony between those goods, or whether it just doesn’t matter. That answer won’t be the same in all cases. Some people – the Pioneer Woman, for example – will accomplish tremendous good by pegging her fundraising to her blog because she will raise awareness and encourage others. Others will accomplish tremendous good doing the same thing because they will exercise new social media muscles and learn how to use their platforms for good. Some people will just be doing it to drive traffic – or to raise their Twitter profile, or whatever – but they’ll still be raising money. I might have done some good with it, too – regardless of my motivations – but I worried myself into a corner about those motivations and then decided that I was most comfortable writing a quiet check.

Arguably, none of this matters. The ends justify the means, as Machiavelli is so often misquoted as saying. And as long as we’re all talking about these causes, these issues – and putting ribbons on our avatars and badges on our blogs and marking ourselves as involved and making it a good thing to be involved – that’s all good, right? It is all good. But it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t sometimes stop and ask ourselves why we’re doing something. And maybe pause, sometimes, and make the choice that is less about us and more about the greater good, even if we could still somehow get a benefit for ourselves. To prove to ourselves that it’s not always about us and our goods and getting something for ourselves out of everything that we do.That even though we’re not selfless, we can still strive in that direction.

For our own good.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a cute fireman holding a kitten and a bottle of tequila will capture the attention of any red-blooded woman within kitten-sensing distance. Or, rather, it is a truth that I have acknowledged, although I’m pretty sure that few would disagree with me. Yes, I know that I’m dealing in clichés. But they’re clichés for a reason. Clichés are clichés, usually, because they’re true.

And here’s the truth of firemen with kittens and tequila: the fireman himself isn’t the clincher in this arrangement. Sure, cute firemen are, you know, cute firemen (see the video below if you doubt this), and there’s something about men who save lives for a living – especially men with a bit of ash and cinder smudged across the chiseled bones of their cheeks – that is undeniably compelling, but I’m a happily married woman with a rugged husband who has fought a fire or two (campfires, mostly, but still) in his time. So, the fireman really is the piece that can be lifted right out of the picture.

The kitten and the tequila, though. They need to stay.

I’m a really busy woman. I’m a really busy mom. I barely have time to breathe. I struggle with stress and anxiety and guilt. I need escapes. I need things that soothe and calm and lift the spirit. Kittens lift my spirit. So does tequila. Really, if you were to construct my dream escape scenario, it would involve cuddling a kitten while sipping a margarita. It would be further awesome if there were friends involved, but that might require more kittens. I don’t know that I’m willing to share the kitten. The tequila, sure, but given the dynamic when Amy and I met that one kitten that one time – she hogged that kitten, she did – I’d really rather keep that kitten to myself. (In case you’re wondering, there’s no such thing as tequila-hogging. Tequila is meant to be shared. Tequila is way less fun if it’s not shared. Kittens are a slightly different story, which is why, if you’re incorporating kittens into a tequila celebration, you need to lay down some ground rules. Like, THE KITTEN IS CATHERINE’S.)

So.

This is the party that I’m going to throw – seriously, you guys – on the very first weekend that I have free: The Kittens and Sauza Tequila and Gratuitous Fireman Party, which will feature kittens – duh – and tequila – double duh – and during which I will air this video of this fireman and this kitten (you seriously have to watch this, because the kitten wears a little French beret. Also, the fireman. But really, the kitten.) And we will all cuddle our kittens – these might have to be plush kittens, of the toy variety, seeing as it might be irresponsible to adopt a bunch just for the purposes of a party – and follow the fireman’s directions for margarita preparation and just, you know, drink it all in.

Who’s in?

(KITTEN!!!)

(This post is sponsored by Sauza. I was invited to visit the set of this video – with this lovely lady – which invitation I did of course take advantage of, and so got to meet that fireman and that kitten and it was really pretty awesome. Amy and I did compete for kitten time. She will tell you a very different story about who won.

And, yes, the fireman really is that cute. Not that I noticed or anything.)