Choices?! - October 30, 2006

Today, a significant number of African-American women can elect to be stay-at-home or work-for-pay mothers. This is a mixed blessing. We’re proud of our careers. We also rejoice in being fortunate enough to opt out of paid work. How do we choose? Sometimes it’s easier being told what to do.

For this discussion, let’s suspend financial considerations and concentrate on what mothers are deciding. Should I work full-time, for pay while raising a family? Should I manage our lives as a stay-at-home mother? Perhaps I can work part-time, consult, or freelance? I could take time off then return to employment; or, strategically maneuver in and out of paid employment. How about running a home-based business? There’s a dizzying array of options.

This is a luxurious problem for African-American women. Most of our female forbearers had to work. Some of our mothers succeeded in transitioning from blue collar jobs to professional careers. Although they heroically moved beyond traditional sexist and racist jobs, an income wasn’t optional. Others endured the legacy of the day-by-day money struggle. No matter your inheritance, odds are, if you’re wrestling with this, you’re a pioneer - the first in your family to have a true choice.

After soul searching, research, analysis and guessing, each woman selects an option. Yet, something bothers us. We’re insecure. Is this best for me and my family? What does it teach my children? Am I honoring those who came before me? What about individuals judging me?

People are generous with unsolicited advice. Family and friends blurt out their criticisms. Talkative cocktail party conversants become silent when we mention that we do not work for pay. PTA members whisper about us when they learn that we labor more than forty hours per week away from home. Everyone has an opinion. Few are constructive.

We, the collective black family must stop judging. Let’s support one another; no matter how divergent our perspectives. There are many reasons a woman stays home or works outside the home. No matter the outcome of the process, the commonality is how difficult it is to resolve the conundrum. Most of us engage in daily evaluation of our choices.

No two mothers are identical. Comparisons are anti-productive. Pledge to do what is best for your family. Then begin your unique journey. This is an on-going procedure.Ê Be flexible and open when finding your comfort zone. It will change as your family evolves.

I am grateful to our ancestors for sacrificing so that we may grapple with such issues. The only dishonorable thing we can do is waste this gift of self-determination. May the strength and wisdom of our dynamic heritage guide us through this modern ritual.

Light Moments - September 25, 2006

I just received my first notice to not publicly embarrass my son. As we were walking to his school, I asked if he wanted to chant the cheer I composed for his classroom. He responded, “No. Not outside. It’s better in the house.” Never mind that this cheer is part of a litany of activities our family engages in to help ease the difficulties he’s having transitioning from toddler to early childhood care. Forget that I’m priming him for a pleasant and quick morning separation. All he cared about was hiding my corniness. At almost three years old he’s differentiating between my acceptable public demeanor and private silliness. The question is should I impress upon him that I have ideas about his public persona? Perhaps it is better if I teach him to be free to be himself in public and private.

Seizing upon an educational opportunity my son and I were listing No-No Behaviors. Suddenly his posture deflated, shoulders curved and he walked away from me sighing, “Ebberting is naughty.”

When my mother happily announced to her only grandchild, “We’re going to the park today; just the two of us.” Her true love replied with a sly smile, “And get hotdogs. Shh.”

Every child needs an adult confidant. Most secrets are benign. However, just in case, the person should love the kid enough to discern when to break the confidence.

Who’s Raising The Children? - September 6, 2006

Each election season politicians espouse campaign priorities. Children’s issues are always on the list. Award winning speeches are delivered yet little progress is achieved. It’s time that adults in the United States act on behalf of children. We must value the process of shepherding a human from birth to adulthood. Whether they are paid professionals or family, actual people have to raise children. This is a difficult job. Work that is dishonored, underpaid and overlooked.

Professional childcare work is assumed to be the last resort for people who can’t find challenging employment. In many cases, untrained childcare workers are people who can not find other jobs. Nannies that possess the skills for working with children often are overburdened with household duties which distract them from their primary role. People engaged in this work do not have the same employment protections as other professionals. Parents who sacrifice careers to be primary care-takers of children are regarded as slackers by those who make different choices. The national attitude is that caring for the future of humankind is the lowest vocation.

As a nation, we give little thought to who raises the next generation; what resources these people need; or, how we can construct a system that helps all families rear their children? Throughout the country parents are forced to piece together care networks until kids are full-time students. Raising kids doesn’t end when school begins. Teachers are not babysitters. Guidance counselors are not social workers. Families and communities should work with educators, not abdicate childrearing to them. Employers have to work with parents to ensure that this happens. As the number of dual income and single parent households increase, the need for creative, loving, engaging, and educational childcare grows. Television, video games and computers can not raise children. We need trained professionals, community / faith / employment-based centers and government programs that support families.

U.S. residents deserve a national culture that emphasizes rearing our young not warehousing them during office hours. The responsibilities of raising children are manifold. They include, keeping kids healthy and safe, exposing them to the world, listening to, educating and enjoying them. It’s an exhaustive list and exhausting task. Many parents are so busy providing basic necessities that they can not spend adequate time with their children. These same parents do not have affordable, quality childcare to supplement their efforts. “Whether provided by parents or by care-givers at home or in daycare centers, child care raises questions of quality and safety as well as availability and cost.” (Mary Frances Berry, The Politics of Parenthood, Pg.17)

Instead of lamenting about children’s issues, politicians and community leaders should design, promote and enact child-friendly policies. Good programs exist but in many parts of the country it is statistically more competitive to enroll a child in one than in an Ivy League school. Many of the most affordable programs are in jeopardy of closing because of lack of funds. In order to keep tuition reasonable they have to reduce expenses. Most daycare and after school care centers do not have budgets that enable them to pay staff a livable wage. Therefore, they are not hiring first choice educators.

It will take a revolution to prove that this country values kids and those who raise them. Revolutions ignite one flame at a time. Light your fire. Demand quality childcare in your area. Donate to and/or volunteer at a program you admire. Change your discriminatory mindset. Respect the parents, professionals and undocumented workers who are raising our kids. Teach your children to do the same.

Mommy's Wardrobes - August 21, 2006

When did Mommy become a negative adjective? Lately I've noticed the word Mommy increasingly associated with fashion no-noes. Mommy jeans are to be burned. Mommy haircuts are unstylish. Mommy cars are advertised to its customer base - mothers - as the anti-Mommy vehicle. What is wrong with being aligned with motherhood? Why are ugly things labeled Mommy items? Since when are all women expected to look like Sex in the City extras?

Okay. Some moms need to spend a bit more time thinking about their appearance. The oversight is not entirely our fault. Postpartum bodies are not standard issue sizes. The demands of caring for home, families and career don't leave much time to peruse fashion boutiques and style magazines. I love wedge sandals, but they are not conducive to sandboxes. Despite these excuses we don't have to live in snuggly, comfortable, oversized sweatpants and T-shirts. Do we?

I'm not a fashionista, but I have decided to stop wearing my husband's sweats. Replacing them is hard work. I prefer sporty to trendy looks. Contemporary loungewear fits my personality, but it isn't practical. The Christmas after our son was born my husband lovingly bought me two velour hoodie/pant sets. After exchanging them for the teeny bopper XL size, I happily donned my new gear. The pants snagged on the playground. The zipper pull broke the first time I machine washed them. These are now one of my "good" casual outfits.

Don't fret for me. I've discovered micro fiber hiking and running clothes that fit my lifestyle and self-image. However, they're too expensive for this "We have the education fund to build, Mommy." That's why I wear the dreaded Mommy Wardrobe of comfy athletic pants (in my size) and a (fitted) plain shirt. Last year I had a part-time gig searching for non-Mommy jeans. When I finally found a pair they were $30 over my budget. Early in my treasure hunt I found $9 black Mommy Jeans. I wear them more often than the fashionable ones, and they are now my "good" jeans.

Women who opt out of high maintenance hair and fussy wardrobes should be heralded for not succumbing to marketing pressure. They prioritize their needs and utilize the best of what is offered. The frustration is there aren't many choices. Sure there's appealing designer casual wear but two garments cost as much as a semester of prep-school. Even if you can afford them, they require dry cleaning or fall apart after one month of play dates, soccer practice, laundry and car pooling.

How about this? Mommy fashion offenders pledge to diversify their wardrobes if the fashion industry produces comfortable, functional, machine washable, wrinkle resistant, affordable, stylish clothing? I'm talking about real clothes. I've seen Mommy makeover television shows. Sure a woman feels glamorous in leather and stilettos. And? Show me four seasons of cute duds that can keep up with me, and I'll show you my idea of Mommy couture. Sound good? Let's take this a step further and begin respecting the word Mommy.

The next time you see a woman with a child in tow looking her best, try thinking, "That's great Mommy gear!" Save the highest praise for things that deserve to be associated with the backbone of the human race. As Mary McLeod Bethune once said, "Next to God, we are indebted to women, first for life itself, and then for making it worth having."

Nanny - Sitter - Mother? - July 24, 2006

I am the Afro-Caribbean-American mother of a bi-racial toddler. Our son is pale like his father. We live on the liberal Upper West Side of Manhattan. People often assume I am my son's babysitter. Those who are progressive enough to recognize that we're mother and child don't know what to do with us.

To preempt false assumptions, I've developed an absurd habit of referring to myself as "mommy" during one-way conversations with my baby boy. If we didn't share physical features, to the casual observer, I could be his sitter. I could also be a family friend, stepmother or aunt by marriage. My family's challenge is addressing this classism and racism.

Most people of African decent remember the first time they were called a "nigger". All parents of African decent can recall the first time each of his/her child(ren) was labeled one. I never intended to teach a baby how to deal with such a weighty issue. However, as a result of the many nanny confusion incidents, I have become extremely deliberate concerning how I behave when my son and I are the targets of this blatant classism/racism. I neither react nor incite confrontation (in front of my child). I remind myself that these infuriating episodes are opportunities to demonstrate to my son how he can educate, correct and if necessary, dismiss a person who is affected by these contagious diseases.

Memories - July 3, 2006

Motherhood is filled with glorious moments. I have three wonderful memories of being a mother: 1) Sneaking into my infant son's room to see my visiting mother rocking, cuddling and singing to him; 2) Rocking and cuddling my toddler son at 2:00 am as my mother peeks in on us; 3) Basking in the feeling that envelopes me when my son cons his way into bed with my husband and me. Seeing my boys safe, comfortable and together fills me with inexplicable joy.

Colic and Us - June 19, 2006

I wish I had known more about colic before my initiation into motherhood. I wish I had known that it far exceeds the crying and irritability books describe. I wish I had known that the experts do not have a clue about its origins or how to avoid/soothe colic. After experiencing it with my own child and engaging in obsessive research, I have my own theories. Why shouldn't I? Everyone else seems to be guessing about colic.

As colic goes, my son's special time wasn't bad. For ten weeks, every night, from 4:00 pm until 10:00 pm he would screech and shake until his complexion was a vibrant red. He sounded like a two hundred pound, wounded bobcat, stuck in a trap. Although he was unresponsive to my attempts to calm him, occasionally he'd rest or cry himself to sleep if I attached him to my naked chest and marched around a pitch black room. The only thing I dreaded more than this daily ritual was the potential of being caught in public during his special time.

I don't know what was worse: my fear that he was in pain, or my apparent inability to control it. As I unsuccessfully tried to soothe him during these episodes, I feared that our neighbors were stabbing voodoo dolls with our likeness.

Each day at 3:00 pm I raced my bundle of joy home in anticipation of his transformation into the demon thing. As our naked bodies marched around the dark room, I'd be chanting, "I Love You. I Love You." When my husband overheard me, he commented that it was sweet to remind the baby that he is loved. What I really was doing was reminding me to be careful because I did love that disagreeable, unmanageable source of my discontent.

The most important thing I learned from this experience is that all children arrive unbaked and desperately in need of that fourth trimester to finish cooking. Colic exemplified my son's unfinished state. A syndrome that probably could have been avoided if I had realized how undone he was and that he still needed to be attached to me as we were when I was pregnant.

Paying Attention - June 5, 2006

One of the most precious baby shower gifts I received was the opportunity to pose for a maternity portrait. It isn't the fabulous painting that I now find so valuable; it's the advice that the artist imparted to me. During our pre-sitting he asked about my fears of impending motherhood. I replied that Type A personality Kamyra was frightened that she would screw up raising the child gestating inside her. His retort was, "Don't worry. Your child will show you how to raise it." He was correct. If I pay attention to the person my son is, not the person I want him to be, he shows me how to raise him. I'm learning how to teach him by discovering the ways in which he learns. Boundaries that are appropriate for him are revealed to me as I observe his limitations. Although I've read a library full of books on the topic, my son is my personal childrearing guru.