Mom Chat: Tell us Everything

Maybe you read it in the newspaper, or heard a friend say it. Maybe you read about it online. Someone, somewhere has gotten fed up with whatever they feel a company is doing or what they stand for. And this time they don’t just grumble to themselves, or perhaps a good friend. No, this time it needs to be bigger. It needs to be heard by more people. It needs to feel like they are making a statement.

“That’s it! I’m boycotting ______!” You can fill in the blank yourself with a company that you feel has pushed the public too far, or a name you’ve heard in the news.

Now, we all make decisions with our wallets, with our buying power, every day. You make a choice when you buy your groceries at Store A instead of Store B. You do it when you buy coffee at Café X and when you buy an article of clothing at Store Y. But when I choose Store A, I’m hardly “boycotting” my other neighbourhood stores, although I am deciding not to support them with that visit.

So what’s the difference? Is it more deliberate? More enduring? A way of ensuring others know about your decision? A decision not just based on convenience or service level but a deeper emotional reaction to a company’s business philosophy or practices?

Mention Nestle formula online and be prepared for a heated reaction. And many are boycotting BP after seeing photos of oil-covered birds and sea creatures making the rounds online. Home stores, news stations, anyone is a potential target.

Does a boycott ever do any good? Does it ever create the attention we hope it does? Are you boycotting anything right now, or have you in the past? What and why? Was it an individual decision or did you do it because you knew of a group already boycotting a certain company or product?

Tell Us Everything!

We've all heard the expression "it takes a village to raise a child". It always sounds so philosophical, so thoughtful. Yet, as a new mom, to me it screamed: "I'll never be able to do this alone!" as though I was not born with enough energy, enough wits or maybe just not enough arms to handle life with my newborn.

Oh, I suppose I could handle my newborn all right. What I couldn't seem to handle some days is how to juggle the demands of a newborn as well as find time to eat, to shower, to leave the house before noon, because when a baby doesn't nap, those things tend to fall by the wayside. And I didn't really know where to take my new babe when so many people we knew worked during the day.

We lived out of town, and didn't have a lot of friends with young kids. Our families were local but busy juggling work and their own lives. It hadn't occurred to me that I might need a network for myself and my new babe just as I had always had professionally, but lo and behold, I did.

Ironically, it was after moving away that my network appeared. It began with two moms who started out as neighbours and ended up close friends. We planned playdates, coffees and started attending a neighbourhood playgroup together. When a child was sick, the other two moms would email saying "I'm headed to the store, what do you need?" We loaned and borrowed, laughed and vented. By the time my second baby was due, these two had already worked out a schedule between their two families to care for our son while we were at the hospital should the need arise.

It takes a village to raise a child. I grew to realize it didn't mean I couldn't do it alone, it meant that it was so much better to do with support, and with others to come to my aid if needed.

Do you have a village? Did you when you were a new mom, or like mine, did yours develop over time? Who is in your village...is it traditional family support, friends or did help come from any unlikely sources? What difference did it make to you?

Tell us Everything!

…you know, for my whole life. Perhaps I’m being melodramatic, but is there some way we can just shift the world’s clock and buy me back the time I seem to have lost?
Lost time? You may laugh. But somehow I seem to have lost twenty minutes in my life, and it feels I may never catch up. I was even twenty minutes late to my own wedding! (PS: Sorry, honey!)

Dinner is at six, drinks at five? Sure, sounds awesome. Of course, that probably means I’ll be standing in line at the store buying the wine at 5 pm, but I’ll be there soon! (A little tip? Overbuy on wine and you might get away with it. Just saying.)

I’ve never been one to be late for work. I’m a Type A, perfectionist, want the world to just-run-by-the-rules control freak. People like me don’t show up to work late. They may show up two minutes before their work day starts for 15 years, but they don’t show up late. So why, socially, can I not get my act together?

I know what some of it is. It’s this pressing need to try to cram in one more thing or do things right before I transition from one part of my day to the next. So yes, I might be rushing to get out the door, but you can be sure that not only are my two little ones ready, but in the last half hour I also blow dried my hair, put on makeup, threw in laundry, sent four emails, read six, tidied the kitchen and did five other random tasks that could have waited.

Why can’t I just leave all the extra stuff and leave on time? Why do I choose the rush of, well, rushing over the rush of getting where I’m going with time to spare? Are any of you living like this too? Are we all crazy? Or are you an early person driven crazy by the latecomers? What are you thinking while we're “on our way!” again?

Tell us Everything!

Some days I watch my kids and wonder what will be the moments that somehow make it into their long term memory banks… the ones they will remember above all the other details that fade away. Their days are so full of learning and new experiences.

Yet we all know they will only remember precious few things from these early years. And sometimes it’s the funniest things that stick in our minds from when we were very young.
Some days I work to try to build memorable moments into my son’s life. My daughter is not quite old enough to be building those memory banks yet, but she is getting close. However, I’m painfully aware that the things I hope they remember may not be what remains in their memories when they are 25, 35, 55.

Some of my earliest memories are things that would probably make my parents cringe, or at the very least roll their eyes. I remember a pet fish dying when I was very young, and being horrified that it was flushed down the toilet afterwards. I can remember getting a tiny jolt at bedtime from an electrical outlet while staying with someone and being totally terrified to fall asleep afterwards. And I can remember excitedly picking out a special dessert, expecting bright green lime jello and being served pistachio pudding. After the tears dried, it took me 20 years to try pistachios. I’ve still never tried the pudding. However, I do also remember receiving my first big book of bedtime stories, and how special I thought it was. I still have it to this day.

What are your earliest memories? What remains vivid to you to this day? Are any of your earliest memories ones you think your parents tried to build for you, or are they random like mine?

Tell us Everything!

Yesterday I had a great conversation with some moms who opened my eyes to something interesting. We were chatting about what we do when, for example, you take your son shopping and instead of the blue version of something, he wants the pink. I made a comment that my son had admired my new pedicure the other day and had wondered if he could have painted toes too. Without thinking, my response was sort of a “more of a girl thing, pal” and he giggled and said when he grew up maybe he’d buy his own polish and paint his toes. I giggled too and told him he was most welcome to.

However, upon mentioning this online, I found a circle of moms who had been happily painting their son’s nails if asked. The argument was, why not? There are lots of years ahead to do what society expects; why not let them experiment now? I hadn’t really thought of it like that. My son has no older sisters, so he grew up without asking to try much that we might normally consider for girls. He did play with dolls at a playgroup, and I asked if he would like his own. He said no thanks. But if he had said yes, I would have bought him one, no problem. I’d buy my son a doll, a pink toy, or a pink shirt. But if we don’t care what society thinks, why aren’t our boys running around in barrettes, dresses and sparkly tights? I think we all have lines drawn, so where are they?

But why did I not paint his nails? Probably because I knew it was a casual comment and he didn’t pursue it, so it wasn’t a big deal. Did I subconsciously feel it was something he might be judged on, and would rather shield him from that judgment? Perhaps.

Do we let our boys do what they want? Moms, where do you stand on the spectrum? Do you encourage your boys toward traditionally “boy” toys and colours? Or do you happily indulge requests for nail polish or pink items? Where would or do you draw the line?