Swine-flu scare is making me mad

The enormous proportions of the swine-flu scare is beginning to annoy me so much. It is so frustrating that the media decides to grab on to anything it can find on order to feed any weakness it can spot in even the most grounded of humans. Because that is what media is doing. Instead of clearly providing us with purse facts, it feeds our weakest spots, it taps in to our deepest fears and nightmares by painting a horrible apocalypse of death and gloom that will turn seemingly rational and realistic people in to irrational and highly volatile beings. And although it is clear that there are cases where this flu, as with all flu's, tragically have led to death, the fact of the matter is that the swine-flu, as all flu's, is mostly a nasty, annoying, energy-draining case of....well, the flu. I have never had respect for the type of journalism that will happily exchange facts for stories, and sadly, there seem to be a lot of exchanging done right now.

So, swine-flu. Shall we lock ourselves up, leave the country? It is a good thing I have a ´n earthquake kit in the garage, because, if you believe the news, or rather, people who read the news, it is high time to stock up on the rice-roni and canned spaghetti hoops, that is what one mother in my playgroup is doing this week. Just in case the government will proclaim nation-wide evacuation, or something...
In my playgroup I also heard comments such as:
- My son's friends all have Mexican nannies/I live in a neighborhood with a very high Mexican population. Do we need to move out/get our flu-shots/stop playing in the park/not leave the house?

It's time for a serious reality check.

Magic fairy-request

I never thought that time would become such a commodity, and that I would be so ready and eager to trade it for almost anything else I own.
The thing is, I need time, and lot's of it. How on earth am I supposed to be able to do all the things I need to do before I get so old that my body will refuse my actions (believe me, at nearly 36, it's already happening)? I am probably not the first one to express a wish of cloning, or a desire to cut myself in half. I really do need to be in several places at the same time. We have playgroups, ballet practice, after-school, play-dates, swimming, my studies, his work, the odd dinner-party, the occasional concert, and a house that would benefit from some TLC.

At night, when the kids have gone to bed, I sit down, take a deep breath, and I start counting out loud all the things I have done, all the things I need to do, and all the things I really should do but don't have the energy for. My husband looks at me and tells me to stop being so hard on myself.
- You shouldn't put yourself under so much pressure. He says. You should take it easy. Take things a bit slowly.

I shoot him an evil look.
- Well, if I don't do them they won't get done, and they have to get done.
His mislaid sympathy annoys me. He means well, but I don't need to hear it. I need a magic fairy who will make it all better. How will give me more time and who will take over a substantial amount of the need-to's. A 'how to be a better, more efficient and yet loving towards my children-person' fairy.
Or a magic godmother. Or a house-gnome. Or whatever, I don't care, just, please, someone, let me get it all done before I crumble.

You can't be angry all the time, some things are not so bad

I know why American women look so incredible so shortly after they give birth. Not only do the keep very healthy during the pregnancy, they also recover very quickly after the birth. And the reason for this?
Daycare facilities at the gym!
The facility at my local gym allow babies as young as 6 weeks old. It is very easy to bring your child to the playroom and go to your yoga class or spin class for an hour. The facilities are great, the staff is lovely. And I get a work out. And a break.
I love the daycare idea.

Exhausted

Sometimes I really feel like packing a suitcase, getting in the car and drive as far away from my family as possible, no looking back, no return. Wow, little people has a knack for sucking the energy out of you.
Leopold, my youngest, is in the prime of his terrible two's, all ripe and fresh. Went from being a very affectionate lovely boy, full of cuddles and sweetness and turned in to a growling monster, angry, frustrated, constantly screaming and throwing tantrums to the point where I refuse to leave the house and be in public with him.
What happened to my sweet boy? Where did he go?

And more importantly, how do I approach it without risking my sanity and his health?

He's forgotten the few words he's picked up in his short life and these days everything is "uhu - uhu - uhu- uhu", in a very repetitive, demanding, sharp pitch.
Everything has turned against him. His monkey, his books, his car, his sister and his parents. We are all evil and out to get him. A friendly kiss on the cheek, a smile, a tickle, it's all designed to hinder him and make him angry. He's walking around in circles, constantly feeling frustrated, never being able to relax long enough to let a good mood catch up with him.

I know that what every I will do, whether it's out of love, giving him a sandwich, reading him a book, taking him to the playground, or out of necessity, telling him not to touch the stove or leave the flower-pots alone, he will eventually combust. This makes our days together very miserable, trust me. We're exhausted and in a bad mood.

I wish I could just pack my bag and leave and never come back. Or maybe come back when it's all over. In five years or so.

We have no time, and the time we have we waste away?

I have come to the conclusion that whether you're a willing stay at home mom or a reluctant one, it doesn't really change the fact that you bend over backwards, cutting yourself in half trying to crowbar everything that needs to be done into the small amount of time you have, and at the end of the day there is still no time to yourself and you end up feeling exhausted and drained, crashing on the sofa with a book if you're lucky, ending up in front of the TV, if you're unlucky.
The difference is that if you are an reluctant SAHM, chances are that you have even less time and that you are even more stressed out, bordering on cardiac arrest, developing high blood pressure.

It becomes evident that it is absolutely impossible to do a mother's work (however "un-involved" one might be, because I am a self-confessed non-involver who doesn't need to get my kids attention 24/7, but think that they are perfectly capable of amusing themselves too) and try to cram in the evening-course at the open university, have time for homework, try to go for a run, see some friends, be nice to my husband, try to engage in conversation with husband, and sometimes, because sometimes it's all I'd like, to just sit and surf on the internet for beautiful pictures of flowers or google the name of everyone in my old high-school class, because sometimes, one needs that kind of stimula as well.

When the day is gone and peace and quiet is almost about to ascend upon my home, I pick out that book I've meant to read for every and of course, end up feeling guilty that I'm reading my own book, instead of listening to Kate when she's reading out aloud from whatever Rainbow Magic she might be in to, and if I go on the computer thinking that I will just engage in some frivolous and completely selfish Facebooking for a bit, I get torn up that I don't use the time to look for music-groups and toddler-fun for Leopold, which I have been meaning to do for so long now that he will be a freshman in college before I get around to it, and definitely the oldest kid in the group who's shaking a maraca to Mary had a little lamb.

And when I try to concentrate on my school-work, that course that I am so passionate about, which won't lead to me suddenly becoming a career woman making tons of money, but is simply only for the benefit of making me feel good about myself and letting me do something I have an interest in outside of the home, I feel so, so, so guilty because I try having a life outside my family.
No, wait, that's not true. I don't feel guilty at all, what I feel is frustration over the fact that I don't have enough time to really devote to what I really enjoy doing, and then I feel guilty, because my kids should always come first, right?

If it had comforted me, I would have at least given myself the option: You know, you could try to become one of those women who don't really want to do anything except be their kids, you could become one of those women who doesn't have a craving for activities beyond the four walls, instead of wasting the prescious time you have on silly stuff like courses and hobbies and stuff, then at least it would be up to me, but I know for a fact that those women have no more time that I do. They too feel incredibly over-whelmed on the verge of breakdown trying to make everything fit without a heart attack on top.

Why is it so hard for us? Where is this pressure coming from? And what do we do with our time? It must disappear of somewhere?

We need change - not just here, but everywhere.

It is not as bad in the UK as it is in the US, but that doesn't mean the issue shouldn't be addressed.
And while we're at it, let's do something about the diabolical state of affairs when it comes to American women's right to decent maternity leave and pay, whilst knowing that their job is safe and waiting upon return.

Some things we argue about

We are both kind of forgetful and we can also, when we want to be, a little lazy. Not lazy, more content to leave things to the last minute. Why do things before you really need to get them done, that sort of thing.
Which means that things get left and makes the other person think that they have been just left, without anyone having any intention of doing anything about them. Which causes arguments.
- Why did you leave the washing up to me?
- I didn't. I was going to do it. After I have finished reading the paper.

- Did you just leave the socks for me to put them in the laundry-basket?
- No, I was gonna take them. Tonight, when I get back from work.

My pet peeve is all forms of laundry, old dishes and chargers, cables and usb's lying around everywhere.
His is old light bulbs not being changed and old things being left in the refrigerator.
Together we live in a pretty messy household. Not messy - lived-in.

TV

When my children are so wound-up, over the top hyper that they find it hard to sit still, let alone string a sentence together (a common state of affairs every day around 5 o'clock, give or take an hour) i put the TV on and let them sit and indulge themselves in some mind-numbing, no brain-activity needed, mass-produced moving images type of kind. Actually, they don't need to be on the verge of a melt-down, I let them watch TV any way. And to my defense, it's usually not brain-numbing TV, it's actually really nice, sweet programmes.
And I don't actually feel the need to excuse myself on this one. I belong to the group of parents who don't think that TV will kill our children, or turn them in to freaks. I also belong to the group of people who wouldn't allow the TV to be turned on 24/7, substituting other activities like, for instance, taking part of real life, but there you go: my kids watch TV.

A close friend of mine and I often run in to this (friendly) argument when we spend time with the kids in each others homes. She thinks that TV is an evil and would rather drop down dead than let her 3year old son watch half an hour of Tweenies (you can take the English out of England but you can't take England...- this is BBC programming we¨re talking about:)) in the evening.
- He should be playing, using his imagination and not be slumped in front of the TV like a zombie.
If you look at the 3 year old at 5.30pm, after a day of play dates, cycling in the park, feeding the ducks, playing with matchbox cars and painting huge landscapes that would put van Gogh to shame, at this point of the day it doesn't look like you'd get much inspired coherence out of him, he's pretty much done and ready to combust. The result is that for an hour or so, he will be completely intolerable, running around like a restless goblin, not knowing what to do with himself, pulling out every toy imaginable without playing with them, throwing tantrums and demanding attention in the loudest, most intense manner.
As an experiment, I convinced my friend to let him watch some TV, just a little. I put on some Bob the Builder, and what do you know, an angel is sitting in the sofa, emerged in "can we fix it? Yes we can!", calm as a summer breeze. An lo and behold, the next day he had even made up a new game: he was going to build a house in the garden, just like Bob.

The moral of the story is a bit dubious. My friend could see the point of the experiment, and could agree that, limited time, supervised, in front of the TV, wouldn't scar her boy for life. But as she still couldn't get over the zombie-reference (all in her head, by the way) she couldn't justify TV viewing in the evenings, but will rather let him watch it in the morning after breakfast, when he is his most active and ready to play. So he has less time to build his house in the garden, and he is still running around like a hellrazer before bedtime, but half a battle won, and all that.
There is still some work to do, but we'll get there.

We're raising human beings, not the next Shirley Temple

I have a pet peeve, and I might get tomatoes thrown at me for this one, but here goes: I can't stand loud, ill-behaved children in restaurants and cafes. I'm sorry, but if your child can't sit down for more than two minutes before having to climb on furniture, pull table-cloths and run around, knocking waiters over, than I don't see why they should have to be submitted to a place where common etiquette expects people to behave in a certain manner. That is unless, of course, you'd think it would be OK to actually tell your child that: "No, sit down, please. Use an inside voice and don't eat with your fingers."
Because, guess what: it is OK to show your child that what might be OK at home is certainly not OK anywhere else.

It's the thing about rules and raising children. Different families, different rules, and all that, I really couldn't care less what you do at home, but I really do think it is important to show our children that outside the home, in the big world that is out there, certain behaviors are less OK than others. And it is OK to tell our children that. It won't scar them for life. It won't harm them and it won't come back and haunt them at the psycho-therapists office years later. It is OK to set behavioral boundaries for our children. We will do them a favor in the long run because they will not grow up spoilt and self-centered and without friends. We will also do the people around us a favor too, since being around kids with tantrums is one of the worst thing there is. (Believe me, my youngest is no exception to this rule, and when he is starting to throw an absolute wobbly, I pack up and leave. No excuses.)

So today, as me and Kate, my eldest, are enjoying our macaroons, apple juice and jasmine tea, there is a party of five, two mothers and three kids next to us and chaos sets in only five minutes after they enter. The kids are tired, cranky and generally not very happy. They whine. They cry. They nag. They throw tantrums when they don't get what they want (and what they want are the good pastries, not the boring oatmeal cookies, I mean, good lord, why take your kid to a french bakery if you don't want them to have the good stuff?). They crawl on the benches and under the table, they knock stuff own and spill a whole glass of water on the floor. They run to and from the bathroom bumping in to other customers. The noise level is excruciating.
And all the while the two mothers keep stiff smiles and nice voices saying things like:
- Oh, dear. That's OK.
- Do you need the bathroom again? OK.
- Maybe if you sit up, you won't spill your drink again.

It's tiring.
Frustrating.
Two things: if kids are too tired, don't push it. Take them to a playground instead.
But if they need to be in an environment with other adults than their parents, they need to understand that it is not OK to rip the place apart. If you can't fight the battle, don't join it.

Maybe I sound like a cold-hearted b*** now, I know, but I don't tolerate it when my own children to behave like that, so don't enjoy it much from other children either.

If there was such a thing as Karma, it would be this

My FoF is slowly getting her divorce-papers in order and her life back on track. A weight has been lifted from her shoulders. In fact, she is smiling again.
Drinking a Martini, eating prawns, and smiling a bit.
We go out to dinner and she says: I have to get used to this again. To be out without my wedding band.
But when she says it she doesn't sound upset or sad. She sounds OK.

Meanwhile, her soon to be Ex is agonizing over how he will be able to afford to pay rent, alimony, Spring Break with the kids while keeping his mistress in the custom that she has become used to.

No one is Super-Mom, but we all try

I have made no secret of the fact that I feel very frustrated by this generation of over-protective, hyper-hands on uber-alpha mothers that we live amongst right now. The Hysterical Need To Do Everything And Then Some breed of mothers who raise over-protected and therefore spoilt little brats who have no idea how to function normally and interact socially with other people.

But here's the thing. Can you help but be nervously fretting that you will ruin your child every chance at a decent life if every one around us tells us the opposite? If we are being force-fed opinions left, right and centre (usually supported by "Experts") on how and where and what we are doing wrong every given second we are trying to everything right for our children?
We are irresponsible for taking them to the playground because it is a germ-filled and dangerous place. So instead we build a mini-Disney-land in our back-garden, because we know that children can't be without physical stimulation.
We would be scolded for leaving our children in day-care, yet we are told about the importance on social creatively simulating interaction, so we are being bad parents if we don't sign them up to at least three activities a day.
I could go on.

In my case, I actually found myself (and I would brand myself as a fairly chilled out person and my style of mothering to be the same) lie awake in bed one night fretting over the fact that I let my son go to sleep with a bottle of warm milk at night.
It is the only way he will sleep, and finding that out put a stop to months of agonizing bed-time routines (or rather, lack of) where it would take hours for him to settle. My husband figured it out. I was still very much in the "no-outside-stimulation-before-sleep" zone, but had to give in, finally.
- Why would you fight me on this one? he asked me as I in a last, exhausted attempt, tried to tell him that what he did was wrong.
- He's falling asleep, doesn't he? he asked. Within minutes. Why not just do this, and make it easy for us?

Because I knew what my pediatrician would tell me from now on, at every check-up we went to.
- You can't let him fall asleep with a bottle. You will ruin his teeth.

IE: What you are doing is bad, and you are inflicting pain and hurt on to your child and you will scar him for life and all this because you are a selfish, lazy parent who just can't do the right thing.

All because of peaceful bedtime.... Is it worth it?
So I lie awake in bed, thinking about what I am doing to my son as he, and the rest of the family lie nicely tucked in and sleep away in Wonderland. And all I wanted was to be a good mother, to do the right thing, but to also have some peace and quiet after a long, stressful and hectic day.

This is what we are doing right now. This is what society, and us, are doing to each other. If it's not teeth, it's something else. The lack of physical sports-activities which you are sure will harm your child although all he has never showed any interest what so ever in any sports, he'd rather play guitar. The times you have not read four books at bedtime, because you are exhausted, and now you think your daughters reading might suffer.
The times you have turned on SpongeBob Squarepants when really, it should be a strict diet of Baby Einstein although Baby Einstein doesn't seem to captivate them for very long, and you really need them out of your way because you need to cook, and fold clean clothes and make that phone-call, and-.

Is it any wonder that we are nervous wrecks? Is it any wonder that mother's will try and compensate for their lack of perfection in the areas that they feel that they are in control of???

And most importantly: as it is happening to all of us, us mothers should support each other, not point out where we might go wrong. It is hard enough as it is without the rest of society trying to brand us a irresponsible, thoughtless, selfish mothers, we don't need to tell each other that too.