Guess Who is Really "Killing It" at Motherhood? All of Us.



All over the internet, comment threads are exploding. Millennial moms vs. Gen X moms, vs. Gen Y mom vs. your damn grandma. The hullabaloo having been contrived over an article on Elite daily titled "The New Face of Motherhood: Young, Cute Moms Who Are Totally Killing It."   Seems that mothers of all ages certainly have different definitions of what killing it at mothering looks like. Add me to the over 40 crowd, who has long since left trying to prove anything about our mothering, and is more concerned about killing it at places like yoga, book club, or that moms getaway weekend where someone thought it would be a good idea for 12 of us to run 200 miles in two days.  (Now that I want to kill at. Not the perfect two year old’s birthday cake.) That the kids are eating 100% organically? Not at the top of my list anymore. What is? The fact they can totally prepare their own meals,  like all by themselves. That my millennial friends, is killing it,  in lazy, over 40 mothering fashion.  Going on a grand overseas adventure hauling a carseat? That’s a joke, right? 

Anyhow, the article quickly stirred yet another mommy war debate amongst the mom blogosphere and their internet comment threads. Young moms were offended. Old moms were called “lazy hags”  and “jealous” because they didn’t mother that way anymore, a.k.a. the “right” way. Grandma’s just laughed, wondering what or who the hell Coachella is. Young moms trounced on the notion of older moms dissing technology, informing us “that’s just the way it all is these days.” Hold up now, if my old hag memory serves me right, I was inserting floppy disks into my Apple IIC way before your mom and dad even had their first date. And yet, as I sit here and type, all it seems anyone wants to do lately is raise their kids the old fashioned way.  Meaning, like we were raised, old school, circa the 70s and 80s. Now it’s all about buzz words like "slow parenting," and  "say yes parenting," and saying no to the pressures, the gadgets, the stuff, the perfection we all now know (at our slightly advanced ages) that can never be reached. But when the only things  millennial moms have seen since they first announced to the world they were pregnant via Facebook, is the social media version of picture perfect parenting, then that is what I suppose they strive for, and truly think is “killing it” at motherhood.  So who are the moms who are really killing it? All of us. Our moms and our grandmas. Me, in the 40s crowd, you in the 50s crowd, those in the 30s, and yes, even the millennials. In each of our own ways, we are all killing it at motherhood.  

My grandmother was killing it at motherhood, when she gave birth to twins in 1946, assisted by two nuns, without an anesthesiologist within 10 miles.  She spent her days canning food, sewing, home keeping, hand washing cloth feminine protection products (don’t picture it, trust me) or watching her four kids play in the basement, all without TV, or anything electronic. She was the mom of the now infamous population class called baby boomers, mothering the best way she could, with no audience of followers.  Her followers were her next door neighbor moms and friends who naturally became her support village. A support village we actually know and can meet in person....like in real life? That is killing it my friends.

My mom was killing it at motherhood. Having not gone to college herself, she insisted my sisters and I all went to a university, and constantly remind us we could be anything we wanted to be.  Having grown through the  birth of feminism, she raised us to have minds of our own, to rebel against following the crowd, to strive to reach what she never had the chance to. And she did it without parenting books, tween guidelines, educational pedagogy theories, 24 hour structured school, dance, sports schedules,  school grade accountability apps, and luckily, without the constant stream of parental comparison seeping into her day via social media. Motherhood? She killed it. 

My generation were the little girls of the late 70s and 80s, who were actually the first to have electronic mail in college,  before it was even called email.  We were the first moms to embrace the thought of a birth plan, to proudly attempt to exclusively breastfeed, to study and practice attachment parenting. We bought our "wear your baby" slings at LaLeche meetings, not off the shelf from Nordstrom’s. When we realized we wanted to make our own baby food we didn’t logon to the internet and equip our kitchens with $300 worth of Lilliputian blenders, and freezable frog shaped silicon baby food trays. We called our grandmas and asked them how to make baby food. Turns out you just smash up what you are eating and viola! Dinner is served. Actually it was our grandmothers, mothers, and neighbors we reached out to with all our baby questions, not strangers on the internet.  We co-slept, bringing about an entire market of convertible type cribs that attached to our beds. We joined food co-ops before Whole Foods was even a blip on the map.  We demanded more educational TV programming for the preschool set, and entire networks of them appeared. We threw elaborate birthday parties with homemade cakes shaped like space rockets, and managed to do book reports and science projects using dial up.  And the only evidence of all those early years, of all the killing it we did as mothers, is on 4x6 prints in  photo books we used to scrapbook in,  not across the entire landscape of the internet in no less than five different cloud accounts. Yep. We killed it too. 


Now the young cool millennial moms are killing it. Of course they are. They are killing it because of the killer moms that came before them. Maybe they are killing it in more stylish clothes, with more hippie bohemian kids, with more technology, more virtual friends, with more sass, gumption, and an all out in your face (and on Instagram!) “I am parenting like a boss!”  mentality. You know what I say to them? Awesome! Hell yea you are killing it!  And I’m glad you are.  We love that you are killing it. Kinda makes us proud. Each generation wants the next to do better, be better,  mother better, as it will make all of our futures better. But can you do me one favor? Give a little credit to the moms who came before you. If it wasn’t for us, well, you know how that goes. 

Guess Who is Really "Killing It" at Motherhood? All of Us.



All over the internet, comment threads are exploding. Millennial moms vs. Gen X moms, vs. Gen Y mom vs. your damn grandma. The hullabaloo having been contrived over an article on Elite daily titled "The New Face of Motherhood: Young, Cute Moms Who Are Totally Killing It."   Seems that mothers of all ages certainly have different definitions of what killing it at mothering looks like. Add me to the over 40 crowd, who has long since left tying to prove anything about our mothering, and is more concerned about killing it at places like yoga, book club, or that moms getaway weekend where someone thought it would be a good idea for 12 of us to run 200 miles in two days.  (Now that I want to kill at. Not the perfect two year old’s birthday cake.) That the kids are eating 100% organically? Not at the top of my list anymore. What is? The fact they can totally prepare their own meals,  like all by themselves. That my millennial friends, is killing it,  in lazy, over 40 mothering fashion.  Going on a grand overseas adventure hauling a carseat? That’s a joke, right? 

Anyhow, the article quickly stirred yet another mommy war debate amongst the mom blogosphere and their internet comment threads. Young moms were offended. Old moms were called “lazy hags”  and “jealous” because they didn’t mother that way anymore, a.k.a. the “right” way. Grandma’s just laughed, wondering what or who the hell Coachella is. Young moms trounced on the notion of older moms dissing technology, informing us “that’s just the way it all is these days.” Hold up now, if my old hag memory serves me right, I was inserting floppy disks into my Apple IIC way before your mom and dad even had their first date. And yet, as I sit here and type, all it seems anyone wants to do lately is raise their kids the old fashioned way.  Meaning, like we were raised, old school, circa the 70s and 80s. Now it’s all about buzz words like "slow parenting," and  "say yes parenting," and saying no to the pressures, the gadgets, the stuff, the perfection we all now know (at our slightly advanced ages) that can never be reached. But when the only things  millennial moms have seen since they first announced to the world they were pregnant via Facebook, is the social media version of picture perfect parenting, then that is what I suppose they strive for, and truly think is “killing it” at motherhood.  So who are the moms who are really killing it? All of us. Our moms and our grandmas. Me, in the 40s crowd, you in the 50s crowd, those in the 30s, and yes, even the millennials. In each of our own ways, we are all killing it at motherhood.  

My grandmother was killing it at motherhood, when she gave birth to twins in 1946, assisted by two nuns, without an anesthesiologist within 10 miles.  She spent her days canning food, sewing, home keeping, hand washing cloth feminine protection products (don’t picture it, trust me) or watching her four kids play in the basement, all without TV, or anything electronic. She was the mom of the now infamous population class called baby boomers, mothering the best way she could, with no audience of followers.  Her followers were her next door neighbor moms and friends who naturally became her support village. A support village we actually know and can meet in person....like in real life? That is killing it my friends.

My mom was killing it at motherhood. Having not gone to college herself, she insisted my sisters and I all went to a university, and constantly remind us we could be anything we wanted to be.  Having grown through the  birth of feminism, she raised us to have minds of our own, to rebel against following the crowd, to strive to reach what she never had the chance to. And she did it without parenting books, tween guidelines, educational pedagogy theories, 24 hour structured school, dance, sports schedules,  school grade accountability apps, and luckily, without the constant stream of parental comparison seeping into her day via social media. Motherhood? She killed it. 

My generation were the little girls of the late 70s and 80s, who were actually the first to have electronic mail in college,  before it was even called email.  We were the first moms to embrace the thought of a birth plan, to proudly attempt to exclusively breastfeed, to study and practice attachment parenting. We bought our "wear your baby" slings at LaLeche meetings, not off the shelf from Nordstrom’s. When we realized we wanted to make our own baby food we didn’t logon to the internet and equip our kitchens with $300 worth of Lilliputian blenders, and freezable frog shaped silicon baby food trays. We called our grandmas and asked them how to make baby food. Turns out you just smash up what you are eating and viola! Dinner is served. Actually it was our grandmothers, mothers, and neighbors we reached out to with all our baby questions, not strangers on the internet.  We co-slept, bringing about an entire market of convertible type cribs that attached to our beds. We joined food co-ops before Whole Foods was even a blip on the map.  We demanded more educational TV programming for the preschool set, and entire networks of them appeared. We threw elaborate birthday parties with homemade cakes shaped like space rockets, and managed to do book reports and science projects using dial up.  And the only evidence of all those early years, of all the killing it we did as mothers, is on 4x6 prints in  photo books we used to scrapbook in. Not across the entire landscape of the internet in no less than five different cloud accounts. Yep. We killed it too. 


Now the young cool millennial moms are killing it. Of course they are. They are killing it because of the killer moms that came before them. Maybe they are killing it in more stylish clothes, with more hippie bohemian kids, with more technology, more virtual friends, with more sass, gumption, and an all out in your face (and on Instagram!) “I am parenting like a boss!”  mentality. You know what I say to them? Awesome! Hell yea you are killing it!  And I’m glad you are.  We love that you are killing it. Kinda makes us proud. Each generation wants the next to do better, be better,  mother better, as it will make all of our futures better. But can you do me one favor? Give a little credit to the moms who came before you. If it wasn’t for us, well, you know how that goes. 

First Week of Summer Thoughts



1. I’ve done more laundry this week than I do during the school year. STOP with the 10 towels a day kids. For the love of Downy Unstoppables just freakin' STOP.  See the TOWEL hook? Use. It. 

2. We’ve done  outdoor play and non screen time this week and I think it was wonderful.  Now, please take the iPad and go binge watch something until next Wednesday.

3. My grocery bill is going to triple over the next 8 weeks. Last night at 10 p.m.someone asked me what was for “second” dinner. I guess we are spending summer in Spain’s time zone. 

4. One of the kids hasn’t taken shower since last Saturday. This and #1 do not make sense. And don’t think I want to know where the towels are really coming from.

5. I have already read one book. Not one I had planned to read, not a bestseller, a book club choice,  a must read, or a deep and moving piece of quality literature. Thank you Carl Hiaasen for once again writing characters that make this  “one sandwich short of picnic kind of momma” feel normal.  And laughing really, really hard. Summer satirical fiction at its best. 

6. Waking up at 9 a.m. every day is lovely and a blessing but I FEEL LIKE A SLOTH. Do I set my alarm next week or continue my post traumatic school year disorder sleep recovery therapy?

7. By the way, Jiffy Pop works as a second dinner. So do burnt marshmallows. And bomb pops. 

8.  Someone at Milton Bradley really needs to update the board game “The Game of Life.”  A Victorian house with a library, parlor, servants’ quarters, marble fireplace, and wraparound porch for $200,000? For me and my three cars and five sets of boy/girl twins? Show me the way.

9. Ice cream cones make everyone stop talking.


10. Grateful for living without a schedule, a to do list, a deadline, a homework assignment, and a sports practice. Amen summer. Bring on the next two months! 

Thoughts on the Last Week of School

I am done. I know I have been saying this since May 1, but really, this time I mean it. Done. WELL. DONE. Think hamburger patty left on the grill for three days DONE. I am seriously considering just telling the kids tomorrow morning they don't have to go anymore, and Friday is now today. Mazel Tov!

To all the lovely moms I see at PTA meetings, games, carpool lines and school events, listen, you are all great and all, but I don't want to see and of you until mid-August. Nothing personal. It's not you, it's me. I'm just not that into you anymore. As a matter of fact, I am not into ANYTHING anymore. I have no more cheery small talk in me, and I'm truly afraid if I open my mouth all that will come out is F words. Big ones. Loud ones. At the beginning, middle and end of every sentence. So ,here is my hand waving at you from the safety of my car. See ya in a few....

Teachers, a.k.a. saints in my book, thank you. Thank you for taking care of my kids for nine months. I know you don't want to see me anymore either, and I won't try and talk to you on the last day because I know you are one noun away from dropping several "F bombs" yourself. Hang in there. I bought you beer. It will be in a big gift bag with an apple on it. 

Yesterday, my kid's school sent home next year's school supply list. Uhhh... I'm gonna need another copy of that. When I saw it I had a... well, let's just call it 'an episode,' and it may or may not have ended up accidentally on top of a burning stress relief aromatherapy candle. Glue stick shopping in June? HELL. NO. 

I'm fully aware that six weeks from now, I will be begging for a routine and just a few hours alone, but right now, I just want to enjoy several days with my kids with no "to-do list What. So. Ever. 

Moms, we did it. We made all those spelling word lists, math fact sheets, reading logs, science projects, geography bees, holiday plays and class parties our BITCH. Cheers to us. Now pass the suntan lotion...

The Original Top 10 Ways to Give Your Kids a 1970s Summer






           

It is officially the end of May. The Pinterest pages, Facebook feeds, and family magazine features are loaded up with all the activities you should do with your kids summer. AS. IF.   As if we need more activities. MORE I say!  As if I am sitting here, ok, really lying here in my end of school year coma,  thinking, "OMG! I CANNOT wait to tackle that homemade moon sand recipe  we will dye ourselves with the skin of organic vegetables, then shape our homemade sand into a perfect replica of the Millenium Falcon! ” Or, “Why yes, I am going to schlep 4 kids to that new science museum two hours away, where we will eagerly wander through the exhibits,  each completing the 10 page scavenger hunt I created last night. Then we will come home and ‘discuss’ at great length the scientific theories we learned, because, brace yourself,  what if we don’t keep our minds active ALL summer? GASP!  Wait, hold it! We must, just MUST go to the dollar store and buy 125 pool noodles to construct a backyard water park! We will invite the neighborhood kids over, serve vegan popsicles,  watermelon chunks cut out like dolphins, and a vegetable crudité platter shaped like a palm tree.  And what summer pool party would be complete without nitrate, skin, meat, additive, and taste free hot dogs on gluten free buns covered in artisanal ketchup?

I am done. Sort of like I how I was done with the school year, but I am already done with summer. And by done, I mean I am done with all the forced smile inducing, uber planned and supervised, over the top  summer life experiences  I am supposed to provide for my kids. You know what I want my kids to experience this summer? The same type of summer I would have experienced in the late 1970’s.  The exact same one.  I survived it, and they will too. As a matter of fact, it must have been pretty memorable because 30 years later I can tell you exactly what it entailed. It entailed FUN. Fun we made all on our own. What. A. Concept.

My top 10 ways to give your 2014 kids a 1970’s summer.

1 .       Let them watch TV. Plenty of it. But only the TV Land channel. I want my kids to watch The Love Boat, The Carol Burnett Show, The Jefferson’s, Charlie’s Angels, My Three Sons, The Six Million Dollar Man,  Gilligan's Island, $100,000 Pyramid, and my personal favorite, Hart to Hart.  Seriously,  what little girl in the late 70’s  didn't want to be an amateur detective married to the CEO of Hart Industries, driving around in a yellow Mercedes-Benz SL Roadster, while sporting a matching lilac pant suit and  perfectly coiffed butterfly winged wavy brown hair?  Because I sure as hell did.

2.       Eat whatever you  want, and/or whatever can find.  There will be no more pantries full of organic vegetable chips, and non-GMO graham crackers. No more refrigerators full of anti-pesticide fruit, free range eggs, and cold pressed juice.  This will be the summer of Frito-Lay and Red Dye #5. I want to see my kid’s reaction when I tear open a tiny envelope of cherry Kool-Aid, sprinkle it into a BPA laden plastic pitcher, dump 4 cups of regular, granulated, white, and maybe even generic sugar (not raw, stevia, or agave,) then add water from the tap, and  viola! You are hydrated! I will be over here drinking a Tab. Lunch will be fried bologna and a blue can of Planter’s Cheese Balls, and for dinner we will pile in the car and go pick up a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, a styrofoam quart of mashed potatoes,  and O. M. Geee, dessert will be pineapple upside cake! Made from canned pineapples in…….wait for it……syrup!

3.       Make them play outside. Like all day. All. Damn. Day. Hot? Drink from the hose. Run through the sprinklers. Swim in the pool until your hair feels like straw, turns green, and the bottom of your feet are calloused from the bottom of the pool. Search for ladybugs, play hide ‘n seek between the houses, run down the street gutters after a rain storm. Read under a tree. I hear this lady named Judy Blume writes good stuff.

4.       Send them to the movies for the entire day. I will drop you off at around 11 and pick you up for dinner. Its’ real simple. You sneak from one theater to the next. Nobody cares.

5.       Spend three nights in a row at your best friend’s house. No, you don’t have to call to check in every hour. And yes,  it’s totally ok their parents will be at work and nobody will be home all day. It will give you plenty of time for #1, 2, and 3.

6.       Make stuff, like from stuff you find. No trips to Hobby Lobby for pre-cut, pre-stuck, pre-fabricated crafts.   Find crap in the garage and assemble it into something you can play with. No, you can’t Google how to do it. Ropes are fun.

7.       Have them put on a talent show. A  real, genuine, sing and dance and entertain the hell out of me talent show.  I promise I won’t upload it to Youtube or share it on Facebook. I pinky swear. No, there is no theme, no requirements, no directions, no anything. No, there is no right way to do it. You have an imagination. Please use it.

8.       Play this until you want to throw it against the wall, or smash into 1,000 pieces.  It’s the original train your brain app.



9.       Build a fort in the backyard. No, I am not gonna help. Yes, you can use the $125 Pottery Barn Kids duvet cover from your bed. I don’t care anymore. Making a memory trumps 400 thread count cotton.

10.   Finally, learn to find the amazing in the ordinary. Trust me. You will need this skill in your 40’s. I pinky swear.