Questions for you, stay-at-home wives and mothers

At my sidebar, you can see a new poll I opened, directed at wives and/or mothers who stay at home. The subject of the poll is to find out how many of you planned to stay at home - say, when you were growing up - and for how many it was an unexpected bend in the road. Of course, a poll cannot capture the complexity of an individual situation, so whatever you have to add, I would love to read here.

I would also love to hear your say on the following:

1. How long have you been at home? How old were you when you came home? If you worked outside the home before, how many years of work experience did you have behind you.

2. What prompted you to come home - and stay home? Did you or your husband initiate it? Were there religious, social, financial reasons?

3. What are your particular joys about being home, and/or in what ways do you believe you being home contributes to your family?

4. What are your challenges, frustrations, weaknesses and fears about being at home? Are you afraid of losing your qualification, not having an independent source of financial support, not doing something that is considered "significant" by the rest of the world?

5. Do you live in a community where being a stay-at-home wife/mother is common? If not, have you ever had to encounter naysayers? How do you deal with awkward questions?

Of course, feel free to comment anonymously if you wish. I look forward to reading your input.

Breastfeeding language

Hat-tip to A Dose of Joy, who sent me a link to this most interesting article. While I might not agree with each and every word, the concept certainly gives some material for thought: perhaps breastfeeding can be given a better chance when we refer to it as the norm, and to other forms of infant feeding as inferior. Of course breastfeeding as a whole is a wonderful miracle - but it is also normal.

The article is long but worth reading.

"Women may say they "breastfed" for three months, but they usually say they "nursed" for three years. Easy, long-term breastfeeding involves forgetting about the "breast" and the "feeding" (and the duration, and the interval, and the transmission of the right nutrients in the right amounts, and the difference between nutritive and non-nutritive suckling needs, all of which form the focus of artificial milk pamphlets) and focusing instead on the relationship. Let's all tell mothers that we hope they won't "breastfeed"--that the real joys and satisfactions of the experience begin when they stop "breastfeeding" and start mothering at the breast."

Certainly the purpose is not to make bottle-feeding mothers feel guilty, but shouldn't we be free to state the obvious fact: that formula is significantly inferior to mother's milk? When nursing hits the rough spots, if a mother thinks there's no substantial difference between breast milk and formula, will she be inclined to fight to make it work?

A disclaimer which seems to be necessary every time I write about breastfeeding: I realize there are mothers who badly wanted to nurse their babies, and for some reason or other, were not successful, through no fault of their own. My last intention is to make anyone feel guilty, inadequate as a mother, or any such thing.

I do understand why guilt is part of the equation, though, because every parenting choice we make is subject to lots of judgment, especially now that parental authority itself if questioned. Parents who are "too strict" are told they will traumatize their children, and parents who are "too indulgent" are told they will raise selfish, irresponsible brats. The world is overflowing with "experts" who are ready to tell you things will go terribly wrong if you don't do them just their way.

Still, I believe it should be possible to discuss breastfeeding without worrying someone's feelings will be hurt simply because it is mentioned formula is inferior. Do I feel guilty when I hear that organic, free-range, pesticide-free food is healthier than what common supermarkets hold, or that I'm supposed to exercise more often than I normally do? Do smokers feel guilty when they hear smoking is harmful? Perhaps, but it doesn't mean I'm hurt because the topic is discussed.

As long as no one is pointing fingers at me and saying, "hey, you! Yes, you, who refuse to buy local organic goat's milk because it's too expensive! You're making an irresponsible health choice and you and your family will be all terribly sick!" - my guilt levels will probably remain tolerable.

What I'm trying to say is that I believe we mothers should learn the art of dicussing all the alternatives without it all sliding into a war full of nasty personal comments and mud-slinging. Regardless of our personal circumstances and choices, we have such a wonderful opportunity to support each other, why not take advantage of it?

A bedtime conversation

We're taking another glimpse into the life of Becky, an urban teenager who finds herself living in a traditional family out in the middle of nowhere. Click here to read the previous part.

***

Everything about Catherine annoys me: her ridiculous dresses, her braids, her knitting and her piano practice. But more than anything, it drives me crazy how she always looks happy about everything. And remember that she spent all her life in this miserable place, with no entertainment but books and needlework! Maybe she's just pretending? I decided to check this.

It was late in the evening, and we were already in our beds. The room was dark, and only Catherine's bedside lamp was still on. As always, she was praying before bedtime. That was when I decided to drop my bomb.

- Catherine, - I started, - Have you ever had a boyfriend?

You'd think I asked her whether she wanted to pose for "Playboy". She got beetroot-red, and only shook her head silently.

- Well, I had a boyfriend back home. - I said, - His name was Ted, and he was really handsome. I met him through Jane, my best friend. I knew right away he liked me. I was wearing a miniskirt and knee-high boots, and Jane spent nearly an hour doing my hair and make-up that evening. He was looking at me all evening, but he had to have a few drinks before he was bold enough to ask me to dance. Later he invited me for a ride in his car. He had his own car, you see, - I added.

- He drank and then drove?! - Catherine was staring at me with horror. I decided to to tease her.

- Yes, but you know, he wasn't very drunk, - actually he wasn't drunk at all, Ted is always sober no matter how much alcohol he has in him, - we went for a ride, later he stopped at a quiet spot and kissed me. That was my first French kiss. - I decided not to tell what he immediately tried to do next. Catherine was close to fainting anyway.

- Later we went steady. We were seeing each other often, riding around in his car, we went to movies and parties. Naturally, we broke up when I moved here. But it's nothing, I already started getting tired of him anyway. And you, Catherine, would you like to have a boyfriend?

As if it matters, I thought, whether she wants to have a boyfriend or not! First, there aren't any guys remotely close to our age around here, and second, who would want to go out with her anyway?

- I will never have a boyfriend. - she said.

- Never? But you do want to get married someday, don't you? - Even ugly women get married, and she's not ugly, just really... plain.

- Of course, Becky. I want to get married someday and have many children. But I don't need to have a boyfriend for that. Mother says that she and Dad will be involved in finding the right young man for me. If they approve, we will start getting to know each other, and if everything goes well, we will get married. And we will not kiss or hold hands or remain alone until we are married, it's not supposed to be done, you know.

Oh well, I thought, I knew it's only a matter of time before what I do is subtly criticized. I had nothing more to say. I closed my eyes and pretended I'm falling asleep. But then I heard Catherine's voice again.

- This is the first time you talked about your life before you came here, Becky.

I turned my head towards her. I told myself that if I see pity, I will not say another word, but she just looked interested. Of course, living here and being homeschooled, how many new people does she meet every year? Two or three?

- There's not much to tell, really. I had a normal life, just like everybody else. School, friends, shopping, going out on weekends. My parents were lawyers and both worked long hours, so when I was little, my Grandma often came to watch over me, and later I was left mostly to myself. You never knew them, right?

Catherine shook her head.

- Well, both my parents were pretty ambitious and wanted me to succeed, they could afford to send me to a good private school and I had good grades, so we didn't have too many confrontations. Even in the evenings, when we sat in the living room together, they would often pull out their laptops and browse emails from clients, or some legal documents.

- And when they didn't work? Did you, for example, do anything together as a family?

- My Dad loved photography. That is, theoretically, because he never actually had time for it, but he liked to look at expensive cameras when we were out at the mall. I would then go to look at clothes with Mom. Mom usually bought herself a new business suit every week or two, had a different shade of lipstick to go with each, and always looked very sharp when she was ready to go to the office. Other than that... well, my parents never used all their allotted vacation time. It's not like they never wanted to get away from work for a while, we often talked about the big family trip we planned to take in the future, but somehow when Dad could take a few weeks off, things would get really hectic at my Mom's office, and when it would all calm down, Dad would be busy again, and so it just never happened.

I paused for a few moments, then added:

- I'm sure they would put more of an effort into it if they knew how little time they had left. But they couldn't possibly know, could they?

All of a sudden I realized how miserable I sound. I didn't want to go on. I faked a yawn and pulled the blanket up.

- Well, just look at the time. I'm so tired, aren't you? Good night, Catherine.

I'm losing weight

I'm currently 55 kilos (121 lbs), which is 3 kilos less than my pre-pregnancy weight, and equal to my highschool weight. Shira, on the other hand, is growing nicely. I know, I should get my thyroid checked, but I have a feeling this is quite simply because I'm having difficulty to eat enough to keep my weight. Nursing burns up to 500 kcal per day, and I'm not eating more than I did before I had Shira. No wonder I'm losing weight.

To complicate matters, I'm not the type of person who eats for fun or comfort when alone, and most of my meals during the week are taken alone (when my husband returns very late from work we might not even eat dinner). So eating is mostly functional for me. I don't have much of an appetite. Add to this the fact that I'm often in a hurry and simply don't have time to sit down and eat a decent meal.

If you are thin and want to gain some weight, or at least keep your current weight, it can be an extra challenge if you're vegetarian (like myself) and/or have dietary restrictions, such as lactose intolerance.

I want to gain some weight, because I don't like seeing my ribs so clearly, however, I want to do that in a healthful way. No junk packed with sugar, cholesterol and hydrogenated fats, thank you very much! So, just a list of ideas for myself and other moms who might be struggling with keeping their weight while nursing:

* A bowl of oatmeal, made with whole milk and with a handful of raisins added, is a wonderful, nutritious breakfast.

* In a hurry? Have healthy snacks available to you throughout the day. All kinds of nuts (walnuts, almonds, cashew), dried fruit, or a yogurt with a handful of dried berries mixed in, can tide you over until you have time to sit down for a proper meal.

* A sandwich with a salad of avocado and hard-boiled eggs is great for a quick dinner.

* I made a carrot cake with a reduced amount of sugar and oil, and loaded it with good stuff such as raisins, cranberries, blueberries, sesame and sunflower seeds.

Well, I'm off to eat something. When you're nourishing a baby (either born or unborn) with your body, nutrition really must be a priority. And even if you aren't pregnant or breastfeeding, it's important to take care of your health!

The school of marriage

A few days ago, I received an email from a lady who quit the work force to be home full-time. She did, however, meet some challenges in making the transition, and asked me about learning the traditional duties of a wife. Here is part of my reply:

What does it take, really, to be a good wife? Just like you, I'm learning "on the job" and slowly discovering the answers. While growing up, I didn't have a good training or example.

One of the challenges of women who are used to working outside the home and then come home, is that they usually had someone else manage their time for them. At home, we become managers of our own time, and sometimes it takes a while to build a working routine, especially if you come home when you already have little one(s) around. Most of the homemaking tasks aren't very complicated or difficult, it's scheduling them on a regular basis that's the trick.

See a post I wrote a while ago: how to become managers of our time.

Of course, many young women these days don't even know how to cook or iron, I had no clue until I was about 20. Fortunately that's something that can be learned on the job. If I had to name just a few practical things a wife should know how to do efficiently and well, that would be laundry and ironing, cleaning and keeping clutter at bay, cooking (knowing how to put a healthy, wholesome and nutritious meal on the table - it can be a simple meal) and baking, mending clothes, and keeping a garden if you have one. There are many other things but they are less than essential in my opinion (such as, you can survive without being very good at sewing or canning). But again, scheduling does the trick. There were times when my husband went without clean socks, not because I can't do the laundry but because I didn't find the time to do that.

Being a good wife is far more important than being a traditional wife (though the two often overlap!) Another woman, or a book (unless it's the Bible), or a counselor cannot really teach you how to become a good wife. Only you are your husband's helpmeet and only you can adapt yourself to his unique needs, which are different for every man. Some things might be good and traditional and womanly, but less than important to your husband. I used to be very annoyed when I couldn't get a crease out of a shirt while ironing, until one time my husband came to me and said, "thanks for ironing my shirt, it looks great" - while in fact that shirt wasn't ironed at all! I stopped fretting right away. On the other hand, my husband likes the refrigerator to be very neatly arranged, which might not be important to another man.

Naturally, communication is the key here. By asking your husband what he wishes to find in a wife and mother at home, it will be easier for you to know which skills and abilities you should focus on.

Check out this post, where I elaborated on this subject a bit. It was meant for a young woman who was engaged and preparing for marriage at the time, but I still think you will find it interesting.

Shira is turning 6 months

I can't believe six months passed since our beautiful, precious baby was placed in our arms. Where did the time go? I wonder if I will keep saying that in 5, 10, 20 years...

Six months of love and joy. Six months of hugs, cuddles and kisses. Six months of nursing and nurturing my child at my breast. Six months of learning and growing towards becoming the mother I hope to be some day. Six months that seem both the longest and shortest in my life. Six full, busy months. I'm so tired and so happy.

Endless adventures. My baby focuses her eyes on me, then smiles her first smile. She rolls over now and sits nearly without support. She's trying to crawl. Soon, she'll be all over the house. And it also seems we've got a teether. I'm looking forward to all the excitement that will come: standing, walking, talking. How fascinating to be here to see it every day, nothing compares to this.

I love watching my husband as a father. Shira adores him. Whenever he looks at her, she smiles. When he picks her up, she squeals with delight. She loves me, naturally, but I believe I'm seeing the buds of a very special relationship that will grow between her and her father as the years pass.

How wonderful that God chose to give us this sweet, adorable, in all ways lovely little girl.

How sweet to mark this half-birthday.

And on we go...

... telling the story of Becky, who isn't too happy with her new life. For the previous part, click here.

I thought things were bad, but now it's getting worse. Aunt Anne is determined to make my life completely and totally miserable.

One of these days, she told me that for tomorrow, she assigns me as her personal helper and I will work by her side all day long. Alright, I thought, this means a break from school, doesn't it?

Next day, she woke me up at five in the morning. Five! It was still dark outside. What on earth was she thinking? But I knew better than to say this aloud. Instead, I politely asked:
- What's going on, Aunt Anne?
- Nothing special, Becky. Get dressed quickly and come downstairs, we're baking bread today.
No kidding, I thought. Why does it have to be so early? But she dragged me out of bed anyway.

That was the first time in my life I ever touched dough. I couldn't even imagine how sticky and disgusting it is. I was in dough up to my elbows, I had dough under my fingernails, I even broke one nail! I suspect it remained in the dough, but no one noticed.

After breakfast, Aunt Anne sent me to do schoolwork for two hours, but for the rest of the day, she kept me by her side. I had to peel and chop vegetables for lunch (I think I must have cut my fingers a hundred times), load the dirty laundry into the washing machine and hang it to dry, pick berries at the garden, stir the jam while it cooked, fold the dry laundry, sweep the living room floor, and a thousand other chores I'm too tired to write about. Never before I was so happy simply because I can finally crawl into my bed and sleep.

Today, Uncle Ben went to town on work business, and gave Aunt Anne a lift so she can make her weekly shopping trip and run some errands. Most of the fruit and vegetables we eat come from the garden, but there's still a lot to buy. Aunt Anne was gone all morning, so Catherine took over preparing breakfast and lunch. I thought I could slip away, but she wouldn't leave me alone. We had beetroot salad on the menu. I had to peel and chop the beetroot, and my hands are still bright pink, even though I've washed them three times. Then we went to do our schoolwork, and Aunt Anne returned around lunch.

After that one miserable experience, Aunt Anne didn't make me get up at the crack of dawn to bake bread (Catherine sometimes volunteers to get up early instead of Aunt Anne, and bakes bread for the whole family - have I mentioned I think she's crazy?); when she saw that I already learned how to wash the floors and dishes and operate the washing machine, she decided that I should learn what she calls "fine feminine arts". I tried to protest, but in vain. C., shining with enthusiasm, volunteered to help. I'm trapped! At least they aren't making me play the piano. Yet.

So, what did Aunt Anne mean by "fine feminine arts?"

Sewing - by hand and using the sewing machine
Knitting and crochet
Cross-stitch and embroidery
Making flower arrangements

Doesn't it sound like it would bore anyone to death? And it's just the beginning. Catherine happily told me that as soon as I try my hand at all of the above, she'll be glad to show me how to do calligraphy, basket-weaving and scrapbooking.

- Make that every day after lunch, Becky, - said Aunt Anne. - You don't need to be very good at sewing, but you should at least know how to fix a loose button.

Every day? I couldn't take that. I protested. If you believe this, Catherine stepped up for me. Aunt Anne allowed me to practice sewing and all that every other day, and on days when I don't, bake with Catherine or work in the garden. Thanks a lot!

I wish I had thought twice before coming here.

The first sewing lesson was terrible. It seemed as though I managed to stick the needle in my fingers more often than in the fabric. But Catherine is optimistic. Alright, I understand that fixing a button can sometimes be practical, but why, oh why would I ever want to knit sweaters or make doilies?

- I'm not saying you will need it, Becky, - said Aunt Anne, - and I'm not saying you will like it. But I do believe you ought to at least try.

So, I was given a whole basket of clothes to mend, and I'm knitting a scarf. I keep missing stitches and it looks dreadful, but Aunt Anne and Catherine don't seem to care, they are just delighted when they see me in the process. I still don't see the point in all this. Aunt Anne doesn't mind that the buttons are lopsided, as long as I "keep busy".

What I fail to understand is how C. can endlessly sit and do all that stuff without anyone making her to. Whenever she has a spare moment, she takes out her knitting. She does that while we wait for the boys to wash their hands for dinner, in the car if she goes to town with Aunt Anne, and even in bed before she goes to sleep. I wonder how come she doesn't take her knitting needles to the bathroom yet.

I forgot to mention another brilliant idea of Aunt Anne. While we sew or knit, we do that to the sounds of classical music. It's supposed to "fill us with energy and inspiration". C. is far from objecting, of course - if she could cross-stitch with one hand and play the piano with the other, I have no doubt she would do that.