Just a few short weeks into my SAHM adventure, I wrote about Dr. Laura, and my thoughts on her Today Show appearance to tout her new book, In Praise of Stay At Home Moms. In that post I said "Dr. Laura went on to use terms including “denigrated” “not supported” “made to feel stupid”…and that there “isn’t much in society that says what you are doing is wonderful”. Maybe I’ve just been really lucky—I haven’t run into any of this. In fact, my experience has been quite the opposite... In fact every single person that has made a comment on our decision has made a positive comment."
That was then. This is now.
It's been a wonderfully adventurous summer here in Tatiman-land. Full of challenges for the Tatiman. Learning to walk-Check. Learning to say "please"-Check. Learning to 'baaaa' like a sheep-almost there (Tatiman says 'daaaaa'...like a dyslexic sheep). Full of challenges for the mommy, too. Taking the Tatiman on a cross country flight-Check. Attempting to get back in shape-Check minus. Feeling totally comfortable in my SAHM role-RUH ROH RORGE.
I'll admit it--my pride has had a few dents and dings as of late. The first came while on our trip to California to celebrate my college roommate's birthday. It was my first time meeting new people in a 'professional' (read: non play group) setting. Of course everybody exchanged the usual niceties: "What's your name?" "Where ya from?"...those were easy enough. And then the never before, but now kind of dreaded "What do you do?" Gulp. This group of 30-somethings was filled with high achievers. Consultants. Educators. Executives. Engineers. Computer Geeks. And one lowly SAHM. It was, for sure, a conversation ender. I wanted to scream "...but I used to be an attorney" on more than one occasion. I wanted to stamp "...but I'm still cool to talk to" on my forehead. I wanted...to crawl into a little hole.
The second ding, and my inspiration to come back to my blog, was a little newspaper article I was interviewed for. The article mentioned how I left my law firm to stay at home with my son (among other things, which are neither here nor there). On the newspaper's website, strangers made all sorts of comments--that I know I shouldn't get fired up about--but I'm not just a SAHM, I'm a Mama Bear now, too. What really burns me is that people assume that I am in my situation because I could not hack it as an attorney--or because I took the easy way out of the workforce. How denigrating.
And, I'm not even sure why. I am so in love with my job, that I sometimes find myself tearing up when I think about how lucky I am. I was there when my son took his first steps. I was there to snuggle him when he got his first black eye, followed by bruised forehead, fat lip, and scraped nose (nobody said learning to walk is easy). I am proud of the person he is becoming, and heck, I may even take a bit of the credit for it. But, it does sting a little bit when I know that I haven't changed, but others' perception of me has.
In line for a taco at my former college roomie's blowout Bday party, I struck up a conversation with the party-goer behind me. We followed the proper introduction etiquette, but I got to go first. And when I got to the "What do you do?" part...she gulped, shifted her weight back and forth...and then squeaked out, "I'm an artist." I got so excited...tons of questions filled my head (what kind of art? do you have a studio? what inspires you...etc etc etc) and then she continued "...it's kind of embarrassing."
WHAT? Embarrassing? You create beauty in the world around you. You make people smile or laugh or cry through your work. You found something you love and you had the guts to turn it into your career.
Touche.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
On a serious note.
Every now and then a horrible story makes the prime time news. A child is killed, or luckily escapes, after years of physical abuse. Each and every time one of these stories hits the airways, the newscaster questions how the abuse went unnoticed for so long.
I don't believe it goes unnoticed. I believe the general public is too scared to speak up. Too scared of what? I don't know. But our experiences this past weekend have convinced me.
The Tatiman has great big blue eyes, and acts like the Mayor of Munchkin land when we are in public. He thinks his stroller is the lead car in a parade, and he waves and pipes up "Hello" to every.single.person we pass. Needless to say, he garners a lot of attention from baby loving folks.
We celebrated July 4th visiting friends in California. The Tatiman and I flew cross country earlier in the week, and DH followed us out before the weekend. Tatiman made friends in every single line we waited in, exchanged flirts with people in every single elevator. And had no less than 50 people in his airplane fan club. Mayor Tatiman had a blast leading the cross country party.
The Tatiman also learned to walk in California. His first trick was falling, face first, into a glass coffee table at our beach condo. Within moments one of his big blue eyes was swollen and surrounded by bruising. Nothing like celebrating his first Independence Day with a shiner. So much for those adorable pictures in his patriotic outfit.
Thankfully, the Tatiman did not seem to experience much pain. After about 30 seconds of crying the episode was over, as far as he was concerned. We were surrounded by friends, and didn't really notice anything 'off' until we began our trip back East.
Nobody waved at the Tatiman. Nobody commented on his big blue eyes. Nobody asked me how old he was. Nobody laughed when he pointed at the lights on the plane and yelled "Light on!" in his silly little voice.
EVERYBODY stared. Everybody gave DH and I the once over...and then went back to what they were doing, glaring up at us ever so often.
In an entire 8 hour day of travel, exactly three people commented on the Tatiman at all. One, a father of 2 boys, struck up a conversation in the airport by saying "Hey Boxer" to the Tatiman. That gentleman shared a story of his oldest son's first black eye, and when I told him that he was the only person to comment, his response was "Yeah...but you know everybody is looking." A lady getting on the plane after us asked if he was in a bar fight, and then continued on to her seat. And one other woman commented, after sitting in front of us the entire flight, that he was a well behaved baby (true)--no mention of the eye.
Once we got home I asked DH if he noticed that nobody interacted with the Tatiman the whole day, and almost nobody commented. We had come into contact with over 200 people, easily--and a measly three showed enough interest in a clearly injured child to speak up. We both agreed that this is how abuse goes "unnoticed." It is noticed, but nobody does anything about it.
I would have preferred 200 people asking me how he got his black eye, to 197 glaring at us and turning a blind eye. I have faith in humanity because of those three. Three people trusted their gut enough to strike up a conversation with us. I'm sure they were trying to feel us out a bit, see how we reacted to comments about our little bruiser. I hope that if they felt anything was off, they would have reported us. We need more of those people. We need people who are looking out for the littlest folks, who can't look out for themselves.
Please, please, please...if you see something that seems out of the ordinary...don't hesitate to speak up. You could get a funny story about a newly crowned toddler...or you could save a life.
I don't believe it goes unnoticed. I believe the general public is too scared to speak up. Too scared of what? I don't know. But our experiences this past weekend have convinced me.
The Tatiman has great big blue eyes, and acts like the Mayor of Munchkin land when we are in public. He thinks his stroller is the lead car in a parade, and he waves and pipes up "Hello" to every.single.person we pass. Needless to say, he garners a lot of attention from baby loving folks.
We celebrated July 4th visiting friends in California. The Tatiman and I flew cross country earlier in the week, and DH followed us out before the weekend. Tatiman made friends in every single line we waited in, exchanged flirts with people in every single elevator. And had no less than 50 people in his airplane fan club. Mayor Tatiman had a blast leading the cross country party.
The Tatiman also learned to walk in California. His first trick was falling, face first, into a glass coffee table at our beach condo. Within moments one of his big blue eyes was swollen and surrounded by bruising. Nothing like celebrating his first Independence Day with a shiner. So much for those adorable pictures in his patriotic outfit.
Thankfully, the Tatiman did not seem to experience much pain. After about 30 seconds of crying the episode was over, as far as he was concerned. We were surrounded by friends, and didn't really notice anything 'off' until we began our trip back East.
Nobody waved at the Tatiman. Nobody commented on his big blue eyes. Nobody asked me how old he was. Nobody laughed when he pointed at the lights on the plane and yelled "Light on!" in his silly little voice.
EVERYBODY stared. Everybody gave DH and I the once over...and then went back to what they were doing, glaring up at us ever so often.
In an entire 8 hour day of travel, exactly three people commented on the Tatiman at all. One, a father of 2 boys, struck up a conversation in the airport by saying "Hey Boxer" to the Tatiman. That gentleman shared a story of his oldest son's first black eye, and when I told him that he was the only person to comment, his response was "Yeah...but you know everybody is looking." A lady getting on the plane after us asked if he was in a bar fight, and then continued on to her seat. And one other woman commented, after sitting in front of us the entire flight, that he was a well behaved baby (true)--no mention of the eye.
Once we got home I asked DH if he noticed that nobody interacted with the Tatiman the whole day, and almost nobody commented. We had come into contact with over 200 people, easily--and a measly three showed enough interest in a clearly injured child to speak up. We both agreed that this is how abuse goes "unnoticed." It is noticed, but nobody does anything about it.
I would have preferred 200 people asking me how he got his black eye, to 197 glaring at us and turning a blind eye. I have faith in humanity because of those three. Three people trusted their gut enough to strike up a conversation with us. I'm sure they were trying to feel us out a bit, see how we reacted to comments about our little bruiser. I hope that if they felt anything was off, they would have reported us. We need more of those people. We need people who are looking out for the littlest folks, who can't look out for themselves.
Please, please, please...if you see something that seems out of the ordinary...don't hesitate to speak up. You could get a funny story about a newly crowned toddler...or you could save a life.
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