Women's Conventions: A Close Shave?

Last week I spoke at the Massachusetts Governor's Conference for Women. It seems sort of retro that even today we still need conferences that are devoted just for women. But considering that we have plenty of unresolved issues, gathering thousands of women together en masse does seem to be a good thing.

I thought it was telling of how far we've come since our sisters a generation ago took the cause public. Those hairy-legged, bra burners demonstrating outside of courthouses have been replaced by women in suits at convention centers collecting goodie bags filled with fancy disposable razors that vibrate. Now that's female empowerment! (And the Venus razor did give me a nice, close shave this morning.)

As I've been on the governor's conference circuit, a tour that has taken me to red, blue, and purple states (this is my own political designation for those states that swing both ways), I realize more and more that all of us women want the same thing.

Women need to feel that whatever they do, whatever "choice" they make in motherhood, career and life, they are doing the right thing. We are all looking for validation. As I've traveled around the country, the stories I hear are powerful, and filled with plenty of "Oprah" moments where audience members often crumble in tears. These universal issues about how to be true to ourselves and 'present' for our families strike a nerve with all women regardless of age, ethnicity or voting record. It cuts to the core of who we are -- as women, mothers and daughters.

Last week, a young mom with a one year old stood up in front of fifty women and announced as she choked back tears, that she felt like a failure. She said she was in a job she adored and had a child whom she adored, but why then was it so hard, she asked. Why did she feel so guilty all of the time? Why did she constantly feel as if she was in conflict?

The truth is that there isn't a lot of support for mothers. For those who work outside of the home, the workforce is not structured to let you have a life. And for those who are at home - which by the way, is often not really by choice but by necessity (many moms can't work because their husbands are never home and someone needs to be there for the kids) - they also don't feel like they have lots of options. Why is it so hard? Lots of us are trying to answer this gazillion dollar question and come up with solutions. But the solutions are more complicated than we'd like to think. So I guess these conferences for women aren't nearly as obsolete as I had first thought. We still have a lot of work to do and as we do it, we might as well get a smooth shave.

Mommy Are You Happy When You’re Not With Me?

About a half a dozen times yesterday my 4-year-old son Jonah asked me the same question: "Mommy are you happy when you're not with me?" This wasn't the first time he posed this question. About a month ago, out of the blue, he asked the same thing. In a knee jerk, sing-songy mommy voice, I cheerfully answered "No honey I'm not happy when I can't be with you, I always want to be with you." I punctuated my answer with a big hug and a quick kiss. But four weeks ago, his question didn't feel as loaded as it does now.

Now I figured Jonah couldn't help but feel my stress over having no childcare and household help over the past two months. I was doing little to hide my tension and clearly it was taking its toll. A highly sensitive and perceptive child, Jonah was feeling my brewing resentment toward the world and in particular to the mounting piles of dirty laundry.

The cliche "a happy mother is a happy child" has never felt more appropriate. As I struggle to do a bare minimum of work, begin looking for a real job, the kind that comes with a 401 K and a dental plan, research a potential new book, make plans for the holidays, and clean my house including a pile of dog vomit I found on my white living room carpet this morning, I realize my sour mood is affecting my kids.

So yesterday when Jonah asked again if I were happy when I wasn't with him, the question stung. This time as I truly considered what he was asking I decided to re-jigger my answer by turning the question around. "Are you happy when you go to school and have playdates," I asked Jonah. "Yes," he answered. "Are you happy when you go to karate?" "Yes," he said. "Well, I'm happy when I play with my friends and I go to work and I get to exercise my brain. That makes me happy. But it doesn't mean I don't love you."

When I repeated this story to a bunch of my girlfriends desperately searching for some mommy soul support and an interpretation of Jonah's emotional state, my friend Kerry, a mother of a one-year-old thought I scored an ace parenting move. "Brilliant!" she declared when I told her how I shifted the question. "It really is easier when your kids aren't old enough to truly talk to you," Kerry laughed and I agreed.

Jessica, also a mother of a four-year-old boy who is well read on positive parenting strategies seemed to think Jonah's question wasn't as heartbreaking as most of my other friends did. She reassured me that four-year-olds can't imagine a world outside of their own and therefore Jonah's question was just a legitimate inquiry into what I do and how I feel when he's not around.

Ultimately, it did seem that Jonah was finally satisfied after I explained that yes, I can be happy when I'm doing things for myself just as he does for himself and my love for him is always there. Today he hasn't asked me that seemingly awful question. But he did tell me that he loved me. So far so good.