I was touched by the below piece, printed with permission from the editor Heather Janssen, because I could relate so well to Carol Lang’s daughter’s habit of talking back “as if  my equal.” It begs the question, “Is this inevitable, no matter how frustrating and painful, if one is intent on raising a strong daughter? As opposed to the former, girls should be passive and docile and keep their opinions to themselves or just not have any strong opinions at all? Is this a natural progression in the mother-daughter relationship, if we want them to grow up willing and able to express themselves boldly? If so, how on earth are we, as their mothers, supposed to handle it internally?  Because really, sometimes it just sucks to be on the receiving end of it.”

get born is a magazine that deserves to thrive. To do that, it needs subscribers. At only 16.95 a year, for four issues, it’s a great bargain to open the pages and have the divine pleasure of knowing, “Thank God, I’m not the only one who has ever felt this way.”

The Impostor Mother

by Carol Lang

When I was a kid, I didn’t play house. I didn’t play with dolls.  I played kick-ball and climbed trees. I chased boys, rode my bike and roller-skated all over the neighborhood.

I was a Girl Scout, but did poorly in all things “traditionally domestic.”  My mom gave up after a while.

When I was older, I did babysit. The money was awesome and the time with kids short. I didn’t dislike the kids but mostly I liked staying up late and watching Saturday Night Live.

I went to college, studied math, computers, chemistry. Drank too much but got good grades. I met a boy.

Got a husband, and a career with lots of promise.

Husband said he knew I would want a family some day and he was comfortable, and confident, to wait.

I got pregnant. I cried. Husband celebrated. I pretended I wasn’t pregnant, most of the time.

I really wanted to keep working. I knew that was wrong. I planned a long maternity leave.

I became a mother. I wasn’t prepared. I had absolutely no freaking idea what I was supposed to do with the amazing miracle my body had created. So precious. So fragile. A piece of my heart outside of my body (Elizabeth Stone).

I read. I read a lot. Good mothers are smart mothers, well educated mothers.   I spent money — on the “right” toys, “right” foods, “right” products, “right” activities.

All my mother friends seem so confident, so on top of things.  Their babies so perfect. Perfectly wonderful, or perfectly horrible. Mine just are.  We mothers play a game. It’s competitive, ruthless. I am uncertain of  the rules but I play.  A game of extremes:  best or worst; smartest or dumbest; strongest or weakest.  No average. No middle. I compete, fiercely. I only lose.

Along came Baby #2. And, #3.

What am I thinking? There’s no way I can handle all this. What made me think I could serve, protect, love three priceless, precious beings?

Babies are getting bigger, older. Challenges are growing, too. I feel pressure to find solutions.  I keep going.

I get promoted. And, promoted again. I am surprised this is happening. I am scared all the time. I wonder a lot about priorities.

I can organize. I can plan. I am over-protective, control-freaked, and obsessive about every detail.  Babies are active, and involved in many activities, maybe too many, maybe not enough. I can feel things start to unravel, but I must keep going. I must keep them going. Good foods, family dinners, homework in on time, to bed on time, clean bodies and clean clothes. And, myself, I must smile – stay calm, relaxed. My heart pounds out of my chest. I hope no one will see.

I am faking it. Every day I fail to meet the measure, meet the expectations.

I hate you, mom. You’re a bitch. Leave me alone.

Quiet, shhhh – someone will hear you and I’ll be found out.

My oldest son fails geometry.

My younger son lies, a lot.

My daughter is full of sass, rebellious and recalcitrant. She talks back as if my equal.

The paint is coming off the walls and there are more weeds in the gardens than flowers.

I look over my shoulder.  I worry I will be exposed, the imposter mother.   I fear for my babies.  Am I good enough for them?

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Related posts:

1. The Business of Being Born
2. Born Mother
3. Bad Word

There’s a tape about money playing in your head.

It might sound like this: Money doesn’t grow on trees. You have to work hard for money. Poor people are more moral, more kind, or more generous than rich people. Rich people got there by cheating. Rich people are corrupt and selfish. People on Wall Street are greedy. I hate rich people. I’m a starving artist. I always work for free. My jobs never pay me enough. I can’t afford it. . . .

There’s a tape playing about your body in your head.

It might sound like this: Skinny Bitch, I hate skinny people. If I were skinny I’d have everything I want. I hate people who can eat whatever they want. Looks shouldn’t matter. Beauty is about what’s on the inside, it shouldn’t be about what we look like. There’s no correlation between being skinny and being healthy. You can be healthy at any weight. People discriminate against fat people. Fat people are nicer than skinny people. Skinny beautiful people are mean and rude . I look like I’m pregnant. My thighs are huge. I hate my body. I’m like a fat cow. . .

Which is fine.

As long as you’re okay with staying fat and poor.

If you’re aiming to become rich and thin, those tapes are a problem. They’re keeping you fat and poor. It’s a self-defeating habit. It doesn’t impact skinny, rich people at all.

Now, I’m done being fat and poor. It’s far more fun and exciting to be thin and rich. More choices, better kinds of attention, more strut in my walk, more confidence in my being, more swing in my hips, better swagger, more freedom, nicer stuff, better ways to spend my days, better food from every angle, more excitement, more liberating, more freedom.

To get there, I have to reprogram my brain back to being a thin person.

I was a thin person before. I’m a naturally thin person. I love being thin. It feels good to move my body when it’s lighter. I love buying clothes. I feel healthier. I have more energy. I adore getting on the scale. I feel great when I pull on my favorite pair of jeans. I love skinny people. Skinny people are awesome and fun and funny. I love eating healthy foods. I love exercise, running, yoga, biking, hiking. weight training, pilates, and swimming.

I love living in abundance. I love having more choices. My choices control my money. I am great with money. Money grows on trees – what DO you think it’s made of?  I love that my accounts grow while I am sleeping. I have everything I need and want. I can buy that if I want to. I can have that if I want. Money comes easily and frequently. Money helps me serve my purpose.

It’s especially useful to retrain your brain if you have a daughter. Think back to your mother’s beliefs about money and bodies – your thoughts are probably not so unique. Most likely, they’re inherited and then supported by evidence of your share experiences.

Change your own thoughts and change your daughter’s body and money messaging inheritance. What could be a better motive?

I can help you reprogram your brain. Contact me at traceesioux@gmail.com for Life Coaching.

Related posts:

1. Super Skinny Me
2. High School Musical 2
3. Zero Existence

I talk a lot about emotional osmosis, the idea that feelings are passed down from parent to child, which is how we inherit negative body image, abusive cycles in relationships and similar addictions to our family members. The only cure, of course, is to deal with your internal emotional crap and project positive body image, healthy relationships to people and substances.

I got this in my Daily Quote from Abraham-Hicks Publications and I thought, see I’m not the only one who knows this!

The child is thinking, and receiving vibrational thought from you on the day that he enters your environment. That is the reason that beliefs are transmitted so easily from parent to child, from parent to child, from parent to child. The child is vibrationally receiving your fears, your beliefs, even without your spoken word… If you want to do that which is of greatest value for your child, give thought only to that which you want, and your child will receive only those wanted thoughts.

~ Excerpted from “The Law of Attraction, The Basics of the Teachings of Abraham”

In parenting . . .

It doesn’t matter what you say about your body. It matters only what you feel about your body.

It doesn’t matter what you say you believe about food. It matters how you feel about food (or drugs or sex or alcohol or cigarettes).

It doesn’t matter what you say you believe about men. It matters how you feel about men.

It doesn’t matter what you say you feel about how you are. It matters how you feel about who you are.

Power and freedom is knowing you can control the way you feel.

How you feel always, every time, translates into what you do.

Related posts:

1. Empowering Girls: Happy
2. Maternal Emotional Inheritance
3. Empowering Girls: Dutch Blitz Has Body Issues

I just finished Going Rogue: An American Life by Sarah Palin, former Governor of Alaska and 2008 Republican Vice Presidential candidate.

I’m going out on a limb and asking readers to put aside their political venom to discuss the merging and blending of mothering and working.

Take a deep breath. This isn’t a post about abortion. It’s not a post about Bristol or teen pregnancy. This post doesn’t discuss energy, ANWAR, death panels or the health care bill.

For the duration of this post, if it’s humanly possible, put aside your opinions and positions and accept my invitation to look at Sarah Palin in the context of her ability to govern and mother simultaneously.

Sarah Palin is a bad-ass mom.

A quick-run down of what I consider bad-ass mothering: campaigning for mayor and city council door-to-door pulling a wagon full of toddlers, toting her children all over Alaska to campaign for Governor, giving birth while Governor, breast-feeding a Down Syndrome infant while on the campaign trail running for Vice President of The United States of America.

She didn’t strike a “balance” between work and motherhood – she cohesively merged her work and motherhood seamlessly. Doing so was to the benefit of her personal fulfillment, her children and her work.

She felt a calling for more than motherhood, didn’t see a conflict and just DID it. She didn’t wait for the historically patriarchal Republican Party’s permission. She just did it.

How did she do it? She did what mothers have always done throughout the history of mankind – she did what she needed to do and took her kids with her or found someone to watch them.

The youngest daughter Piper, one of the primary characters in the book, appears at her mother’s side at nearly every pivotal moment in Sarah’s political career. Piper might actually be the most empowered girl in America, next to Willow and Bristol. Like other children throughout the history of moms and kids, she tagged along behind or beside her mom. The only difference is that instead of cleaning the house and doing dishes, Piper’s mom campaigned, governed a city, then a state, and then ran for vice president. She made speeches, mingled with voters, went door-to-door, and posed for photos ops. She signed laws, dealt with reporters and balanced budgets.

The most beautiful thing about this book and Sarah Palin’s perspective is that there is no conflict at all between mothering and governing or mothering and working. She doesn’t even waste a single thought on it.

She does not apologize for having children, for bringing children on a campaign, for a baby crying in the background of a phone call, for a child’s presence at a press conference or a State dinner, for her child answering a reporter’s question, for her children being present at the signing of bills, at the governor’s office or even playing hide and seek in the halls while she hammers out a budget through the night.

Sarah is there, therefore, her children are there. Duh, of course they are.

Think about that for one second. Replay, in your own brain, the number of times you apologize for your children’s presence. Too loud in church, disruptive in a meeting, no babysitter for a social function, working from home due to ear infections . . . and on and on. Think of all the guilt you’ve wasted over it.

She doesn’t talk about the stress of it either. Mothering is a pleasure. Governing is a privilege. She loves doing both. She has passion for both roles and finds them fulfilling. Why would she surrender one to an outdated traditional expectation?

She also does not apologize for leaving her children to pursue objectives child-free. She went to a hotel in California, leaving her family for a few weeks for some precious peace and quiet to work on her book. During the Vice Presidential race of 2008, she campaigned away from her children on weekdays so they could continue going to school in Alaska. Her husband, Todd, their parents, their extended family, close family friends, her children’s friends and parents and a hired babysitter all pitch in to make sure family life keeps trekking along while she’s away. Of course they do. It made me think, “wait, why are we making this so hard?”

She didn’t quit when her family life got complicated. It got pretty complicated when she had an unplanned pregnancy while Governor of Alaska, then found out the baby boy had Down Syndrome. It was further complicated when, a month after giving birth to Trig, her teenage daughter, Bristol, confessed she was pregnant. Her oldest son had joined the military and gone to Iraq and could die at any moment. Any normal family would have a very difficult time adjusting to those circumstances. Before any adjusting could happen, Sarah Palin was asked to run for Vice President and hit the campaign trail. And she did it. Come on, I know women who have an emotional breakdown and take a sick day when they get their period every month.

There is a vital difference between her life and most working women’s lives: Sarah Palin is the boss.

She has no boss telling her its inappropriate to bring her kids to work, inappropriate to campaign pulling a wagon full of toddlers behind her as she talks to voters door-to-door. She has no human resources department counting her sick days and no one telling her she can or can’t be home at 3:00 to greet her kids after school. There is no one telling her she can’t work from her kitchen table when she needs to. No one telling her it’s unprofessional to bring children to a budget meeting or a major speech.

Some of us bang our heads against the brick wall of the patriarchal work-day establishment asking for maternity leave, paid sick days, family medical leave – talking to employers and trying to convince human resource departments of our worthiness as mothers and workers, and arguing over legislation, trying to convince politicians to support family medical leave and a flexible workday – and raging against the fact that our available choices all suck (I mean Me here).

Sarah Palin went around the brick walls. She just believed such nonsense didn’t apply to her. So it didn’t. I’m fairly certain it won’t apply to her daughters either.

Photos from (but not in this order) Positives in Politics, ivstatic, Kansans for Life, NY Daily News,  Telegraph.

Related posts:

1. I Hate Sarah Palin!
2. The Washington Post Better Pick a Girl!
3. Devaluation of Motherhood

Today my Mom yelled at me.

So I cried until the room was a lake.

~Ainsley

(The cartoon mother (me) is screaming Get Off The Table!) I’m certainly not proud of the yelling and I did apologize.

Still, as a writer, I can’t help but show you my parenting flaw, so you can see the artfully-crafted verse my daughter has written.

Related posts:

1. Empowering Girls: Attitude Problem
2. GIRL HERO!
3. Empowering Girls: Clean Your Room!