Work It: a blog for Working Moms

What's your (mothering) style?

By Jo

What kind of mother are you? It's a question I've often pondered. Sometimes it's a guilt ridden accusation, as is true of so many working moms.

More recently its been a reflection of my own personal search. Eight weeks ago our family relocated from Phoenix to the Twin Cities  for my husband's 9-month-placement. New city, new community and I'm working from home for awhile. There have been the inevitable adjustments that come with a big change for a family of four, but there have been a few surprises too.

In a new state, there is no fixed group of girls that I hang out with. On one level that is a huge loss. My girlfriends are wonderful. Yet I've discovered that sometimes there is great value in working things out on your own. I've grown in confidence as my husband and I have been working on what is best for our little family. Maybe I've talked to him more about things that would normally have been shared over a caramel macchiato with the girls.

As a result of this process I've noticed that I'm becoming more creative as a mom. I've let go of expectations placed upon me,the real ones and the perceived ones. I'm also daring to become more creative professionally, daring to think outside my self-imposed boxes. It's unnerving, but exciting.

There were more discoveries in web site I found. It's MotherStyles examines mothering styles using Myers - Briggs, a personality test often used in many employee training programs. It acknowledges that not only are children unique, but so are we mothers in the way we do life, and raise our kids. I haven't explored the whole site yet. However, I have read a book excerpt on my personality type's mothering style. Whilst these things are always just a tool, it  was insightful and helpful. Yet another signpost on my journey of working out this mom, woman, wife, professional life. In my own style.

Lessons in Letting Go

By Jo

Do you ever find it hard to let go?

We all experience times when its difficult to juggle our commitments, longings and responsibilities. Family, work and dreams take up a lot of energy! But I wonder if on those rare occasions when we don't have to take care of everything and everyone, whether we know how to let go?

Over the summer I spent a month in England with my family. The initial reason for travel was my job; I was speaking at a conference. But since we are from the UK, it made sense to make it a family occasion, vacation and visiting relatives.

We were surrounded by wonderful extended family who were supportive without overstepping boundaries. My husband wasn't working and was eager to spend some quality time with our daughters. In theory I should have been able to relax and enjoy myself. But I couldn't let go.
I missed our girls while I was working, but it wasn’t just that. Somehow I couldn't let go of the responsibility, I couldn't share it. Aren’t I THE MOM? Shouldn't I be doing everything? Feeling everything? Thinking everything? Knowing everything? Now I had less responsibility and everything was working well. I felt strangely disempowered and guilty.

I confided in my husband. He gently replied,“There's nothing to feel guilty about. They're with their father."

How presumptuous. How insecure I am on those days when I think I’m everything my children need? I confess, sometimes I carry responsibilities I could share. As a result, there are days, weeks, months when my stress is self-induced.
The juggle of work, family, marriage and play is stressful, yet sometimes it’s validating too. I may say it’s a burden, but I want the burden, or at least recognition for carrying it! The last thing I want is someone doing my job better than me. I insist on being it all...maybe to compensate for not being around 24/7, maybe because I need to be needed. I realize it's time to let go. I'm not there yet. It’s a lesson I'm still learning.

Village People

by Jo

"It takes a village to raise a child" is such a well worn African proverb, that it's probably on the verge of becoming a cliché. Nonetheless it’s something I have been thinking about for some time now. My parents are Nigerian, but growing up in London, England - I felt swamped by relatives - endless aunties, uncles and cousins always in and out of our lives. Most of them were not related to me at all.

We became family because we shared a common experience. Nigerians who were trying to make sense of England and retain their identity. My "cousins" and I were the children trying to straddle two different cultures and discover who we were. We learned from each other.

Years later, I live in yet another culture. I’m reminded of the power of the village: A community of people who do life together.

If there is some truth to this proverb, then we're not meant to do life alone. To have every skill for the home, for work, to know everything, to be everything at all times. There are some skills I have - and plenty I don't. Instead of feeling inauthentic as a mom, or inadequate in my career, I’m learning to reach out and seek advice, rely on others.  Some of my village are married with kids, some aren't. They come from different walks of life, different ages and cultures. Some of them I see regularly, some are neighbors. Some are villagers in cyberspace.  Their presence enriches my family and my working life. I hope I make a positive contribution to theirs.

Yet village life is a risk. You lose the anonymity of the urban metropolis, the façade of the suburban smokescreen. Life has a slower pace. You get to know the people around you. These are relationships that go deep, cultivated by time and shared experience. It can be vulnerable at times.

I could do life alone, in my little nuclear unit. Safe, known and alone. But I think I’m more interested in exploring the 21st Century village for the working mom, and seeing who I meet there. Who knows, maybe they’ll be others who want to do life together.

Under Pressure

By Joannah

I read an interesting article in The Observer (a British Sunday paper) recently. It was about the stresses and strains that today’s young fathers face as they try to balance work and family life. As I reflected on the article it actually got me thinking about us  - the Working Moms Blog community.

Like the dads in that article, we’re spinning many plates. We’re trying to get established in our careers, which generally means putting in those long hours. Sometimes, we try extra hard because we want to show our employers just how committed we are.

We're committed to our families, too. We adore our families. We want our kids to have great lives and memories that include us! We want our partners to remain head over heels in love with us.
Is it possible to do it all – and if so, at what cost?

For the men in this article, plate spinning came at a high price. Depression. Stress related illnesses. Guilt about how little time they spent with their families. Low self esteem because life wasn't what they hoped it would be. They knew something was wrong, but didn't know any alternatives.

Ironically they felt that women had each other to talk to about their "stuff". In their opinion, women had an outlet for their pressure....

I'm not so convinced.

So I'm putting it out there. How are you coping with the plate spinning?
I don't just mean the practical side of things, I'm also wondering how you feel.

Do you have stress related illnesses?

Have you noticed that emotionally, its harder to hold it together?
Are you worried that you might be depressed?

Perhaps it's time for a conversation about the pressure....

The real world

by Joannah

It was supposed to be a simple trip to Petco to look at fish, birds and rats. Tia, our 22-month-old was giddy with excitement. Zoë, only 5 months, was pretty nonchalant, happy to hang out in the baby carrier.

Tia’s the kind of toddler who makes friends with everyone she meets. There was another family in the store with a toddler, a cute boy. Anticipating that Tia was about to make a new friend, I smiled as we walk towards them. Except this time it didn't happen. My husband Chris suddenly grabbed Tia’s arm and led her to another part of the store, muttering rather loudly, "I don't want that man anywhere near my daughter."

Stunned and confused, I look at this family again. The little boy's father had an explicitly racist tattoo on his arm. It's bold, it’s brazen and its there for everyone to see.

Our girls are oblivious to everything. Tia’s smiling at the fish tanks. Zoë’s happily drooling all over me.But my heart broke a little that afternoon.We're a bi-racial family. I'm a black woman, Chris is a white man. Tia and Zoë are the perfect mix of us both.

Chris and I aren’t naive. As a couple, we've experienced our share of racial abuse. Complete strangers, both black and white, have shouted unprintable insults at us from across the street. Now, even if I am shaken, my self esteem remains intact. I’ve learned to see someone else's racist attitude as their problem, not mine.

My heart broke because I saw Tia and Zoë's future. They were learning how to deal with racism. I saw their hearts toughen up as they grew accustomed to the tears and pain that prejudice leaves behind.

There was nothing I could do to save them.

I know we can't protect our children from the real world. All we can do is equip them the best we can.  But when the real world is a racist man standing next to your own toddler, it’s not a good feeling.

An Epiphany

by Joannah

I’ve always been an activist. Hurdles existed to be kicked out of the way, mountains were there to be conquered, not just climbed.

Then five months ago, I got up and realized that I was afraid to bathe my newborn baby. I could hear a strange rumbling sound in the distance. I dismissed it a couple of times, but it just got louder. I realized it was the sound of my confidence crumbling, and my world as I understood it, falling apart. It wasn't long before I felt completely lost.

My doctor, a wonderful, gentle man, diagnosed post partum depression, and gave me a prescription for anti-depressants and a recommendation to see a counselor.

I was suddenly on a whole new journey. The only thing I was sure of was that I loved my husband, my girls and my God. Everything else was just grey.

The activist, the superwoman, was forced to slow down. It was hard work at first. Sometimes my frenetic pace existed to mask what was going on inside. I think I was afraid of what I'd discover if I slowed down. Actually I knew what I’d discover, which is exactly why I ran. When you’re really busy - it's easy not to feel.

Now I’m learning there are things in our lives that need attention sometimes. Broken hearts that refuse to be fixed, wounds that refuse to heal. Relationships that still hurt, people’s words that still sting. Yes we are wives, moms, professionals, entrepreneurs, - but aside from our titles, and roles, we are simply human.

For me, it was time to stop … and heal.
The process has been humbling, revealing, vulnerable, liberating.
Yet here is my strangest discovery, my epiphany.
In facing up to things - I'm getting closer to being the woman that I'd always hoped to be.

Some Kind Of Wonderful

By Joannah

Last week a wonderful thing happened. It was Saturday night and our two little girls Tia and Zoë were fast asleep.

So my husband Chris and I talked.

It wasn’t one of those conversations where we “downloaded” all the stresses of life. And wonderful though they are, it wasn’t a conversation about our girls. It wasn’t a conversation about money, the house, work. Nor was it one of those intense conversations where we struggled to understand each other through our tiredness, confusion or pain.

It was a conversation where we just talked, relaxed, laughed and then talked some more. The pressures of life were suspended. It reminded me of when we first dated.

I get many opportunities to appreciate what I’ve got in my husband. He comes home from work exhausted, yet still scoops our children into his arms with a huge smile. He works hard and goes to college, but tries to give us his all. He encourages me in my career and makes sacrifices to make my dreams possible.

That night I got something extra special. It was more than a chance to appreciate him. I got to enjoy being with him too.

We’re all too familiar with the pressures that come with being a working mom. And we rarely feel that we are doing a good enough job! That night I realized that I have a wonderful companion for the journey. He holds my hand. He tells me I’m doing a good job when I feel like I’m a failure. He sees me, he loves me. He’s there and its some kind of wonderful. I couldn’t do it without him.

I think we all need a close companion for our journey, a partner, a sister, a friend. Someone we can appreciate, but also take the time to simply enjoy. Who is the companion in your life?

Joannah is a new "Work It" writer. Welcome!