Playing the Victim: Reveling in the so-called "Mommy Wars"

{photo credit: mommyish.com}

When our husbands ask us: “So what’s this ‘Mommy War’ thing everyone is posting articles about on Facebook?” are we not at least a little bit embarrassed to try to formulate a response?

“Well…er… Some moms have strong opinions about parenting choices, and… um… it makes the rest of us feel bad. They feel like what they’re doing is right, and it’s not what I’m doing.”

Or perhaps:

“Well, sometimes us women go on Pinterest and discover that there are 13 Good Night Moon activities that this other mom did with her children… and we only did 2.  So, y’know, we feel like total failures. That other mom’s a jerk.”

Maybe even:

“Remember when I lost my milk supply early on with Chandler?  The nerve of those women breastfeeding in front of me.  It was like they didn’t even care about what they were putting me through. I couldn’t take out the formula bottle in front of them.  They’re such judgers. Judging.”

After uttering one of these statements, a light bulb may go off.  CRAP. I’m the weaker brother (or in this case, sister).  I am calling out my sisters on their failure to take into consideration my insecurities – expressed or not – on everything from how I feed and diaper my baby to what school I’m sending my kindergartener to.  Good Lord.  I need to get over myself.  

Oftentimes, when I meet another mom she has strong ideas about child-rearing.  Why?  Because it’s her business to.  She has done her research and she may have decided that she’ll breastfeed, but she’s not going to co-sleep, she’s going to stick with disposable diapers, she’s only feeding her kids organic food, and she’s definitely sending her child to the local classical charter school. 

She feels strongly about all of these things.  She loves to talk about them.  And you know what, these choices she’s making are hers to make, and they are of vital importance to her.  She shouldn’t be afraid to be enthusiastic about them – particularly not on her blog or her pinterest board as if that’s force feeding it down our throats.  

Some of my dearest friends feed their children organic food and are horrified by all those nasty pesticides and toxins that are in our food.  It is so worth it to them to beef up their grocery budget so that they can avoid feeding that “poisoned” food to their children.  

As the non-organic Aldi shopper that I am, I have a few choices.  I can go home and cry myself to sleep because I’m a horrible mom that’s been poisoning my child.  I can also get pissed off at my friend for holding such strong opinions and call her to repentance for making me feel bad.  I have the option of reading some studies and articles and re-examine my choice regarding whether or not it’s worth the cost to buy organic, just to make sure I know why I stand where I stand.  Or I can just listen intently– and delight in the fact that this mom feels confident in one of her parenting choices.  

    

Here’s a truth: I am not the center of the universe.  When I’m reading someone’s blog and they are championing the virtues of co-sleeping and how much better it is for my baby, I can choose whether to feel like that blog is about attacking me… or not.  And let me tell you, the answer (in almost every case) is not.  In the unlikely event that this blog, facebook post, or pinterest board is actually about attacking my decisions as a mom, then why the heck am I reading it in the first place?

Here’s the scenario in a face-to-face conversation.  I don’t co-sleep.  Why don’t I co-sleep?  Because when I fell asleep with my baby still in my arms, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking my laptop was next to me and quickly pushed it out of my bed.  The laptop screamed when it hit the floor.  So, I don’t co-sleep.  Plus, my husband isn’t a fan of it.  Done.  You co-sleep?  It helps you bond with your baby?  You’ve done your research and you worry about the side-effects of not co-sleeping?  Awesome.  I am so okay with that.  Because when I try really hard, I can be a grown-up who’s not ruled by my insecurities.  I can let you make your decisions and even share them with conviction, without feeling threatened. Unfortunately, I don’t always try really hard, so I’m not always a grown-up.

When I was a teacher, education companies were constantly pitching their curriculum to our department. 

• “Our product will help your student’s finally reach their potential."
• “If you don’t use our product, your students won’t learn.  They’ll fail their standardized tests.”
• “Good teachers use our curriculum.  Here, just look at these charts or read these testimonials.”
• "Your students have been struggling because you picked the wrong curriculum last year."

These statements are far more overt than the ones we so often read between the lines (or even impose) in the so-called “Mommy Wars.”  As a teacher, I cannot turn off the light and hide underneath my desk.  I don’t write a pointed letter to Prentice Hall or Houghton-Mifflin for making me feel like a failure.  In fact, those things would never occur to me.  Because I don’t take their opinions (even when presented as fact) and over-personalize them.  I know that they are committed to their curriculum and believe in it 100%.  Good. They should.  I’m not sure what kind of rep they would be if they didn’t tout the excellencies of their program above all the others. 

So, what do I do?  I simply take in their information, and make a decision about what curriculum I’m going to adopt for my students.  What if I choose Houghton-Mifflin, but I find out a week later that my best friend at the district next door can’t imagine life without Prentice Hall?  Do I ask myself: “Why is she trying to hurt me?  Why does she think I’m such a terrible teacher?”  Surely not.  That would be silly.  We’re grown-ups, remember?  We can celebrate the other teacher’s success and their curriculum choice convictions without resorting to feelings of bitterness or playing the victim.  

I suppose the reason I’m writing this is to remind myself of what I already know – that sometimes the pendulum swings too far, that me expecting and requiring other mom’s not to voice their passions with strong convictions  because… well… it makes me feel bad, that’s just really my issue.   My inability to want to get out of bed in the morning because I was up late the night before on Pinterest learning about all the ways I’m failing to enrich my children’s life – that’s a me-issue, not a them issue.  At what point am I going to stop reveling in the role of the weaker sister, ravaged and paralyzed by insecurities I continue to feed, and start calling myself to repentance?  I need to repent of my warped thought processes, of finding my identity in the opinions (perceived or verbalized) of others, and of projecting my insecurities onto other moms. Ultimately, I need to get over myself because this is just one more way I’m trying to live my dream of being the center of the universe. It’s been my dream since birth, y’all.  Thankfully, it just isn’t the reality.  Lord have mercy.