Can you be a feminist and a stay-at-home mom at the same time?
I am a stay-at-home mom. I am also a licensed mental health counselor. One of those sentences fills me with pride, the other makes me cringe a bit. Can you guess which is which?
Technically, I should say that I used to be a counselor since I’m no longer seeing clients (unless you count the toy disputes that I mediate between my dog and toddler), but I can’t quite bring myself to use the past tense. It feels like a failure, like I’m surrendering part of my identity or betraying the ideals of feminism if I admit that – for right now – I’m just a stay-at-home mom.
Even now, I compulsively qualify my statements. I set an imaginary time limit (“for right now…”) or minimize the role itself (“just a stay-at-home mom”) so that I don’t risk appearing too content with my choice. Can I call myself a feminist and a modern woman if I’m happy – or even proud – to be a homemaker? Continue reading “The Feminist Homemaker”
Just another day in baby land…
0600: Strange noises coming from baby’s room. Remain motionless and hope that husband gets out of bed first. Crack one eye to see that husband is actually in the shower (damn). Stumble, bleary-eyed, out of bed. Further investigation confirms suspicion that baby has indeed awoken. Instantly regret last night’s decision to watch “one more episode” of Game of Thrones and consequently staying up until midnight. Remember that I am not 20 years old anymore and vow to never repeat this mistake again. Attempt to not fall down the stairs while going to make a bottle.
0630: Baby falls back asleep after his bottle. Gently (oh so gently) lay him back down in crib and creep out of nursery like a ninja. Send fervent thanks up to all the gods while stumbling back to bed and grab a sock to drape over my eyes. Wonder for the hundredth morning in a row why the sun must be so infernally bright. Continue reading “Dispatches from the Baby Zone”