Not sure if it’s the high pollen count around here or what, but my eyes are watering something fierce over these incredible Mother’s Day cards from Strong Families.

These vibrant and beautiful cards show families in every form.

These cards celebrate the diversity and uniqueness that results when families are created (or chosen).

These cards push back against the tired, stereotypical narrative of what it means to be a mother by sharing images of families who don’t usually have access to the tallest or loudest platforms.

So hop on over to Strong Families’s card generator – pick your favorite and add your own special message (like I did to the one up top), and send it to a special mama in your life!

Also – if you’re looking for some suggestions for alternative Mother’s Day gifts, I’ve written up a list for The Frisky. Spoiler alert: it does not contain advice on brunch, jewelry, or spa days. So, please – check it out and share some other ideas in the same vein if you have them!

Childhood is a time to experiment, to make mistakes, to be silly and creative, and to use your imagination. I know there are a lot of things I did in my childhood that are (thankfully) in a photo album somewhere in my parents’ basement, instead of permanently cached online. For example, I wore a full-body Darth Vader Halloween costume when I was just a little too old for it to still be cute. A great memory, but looking back, I’m glad it’s not part of my online identity.

And fair enough. We all have embarrassing photos we’d prefer never saw the light of day. However, it’s Zuckerberg’s presumption over *what* we should protect our children from that is the issue. Zuckerberg is specifically referencing a post about a woman who shares pictures of her 6-year-old son dressed up in tutus, make-up, nail polish and dresses. She wonders whether this mother is thinking about the potential ramifications these pictures may have on her son later in life.

I, on the other hand, am thinking about the potential ramifications of not sharing them.

Before I get into this further, I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that the 6-year-old boy in question is referred to as a “cross-dresser” throughout Zuckerberg’s post as well as the one she links to (note: the mother of the child did not refer to her son as such). It seems completely out of place to ascribe this adult term to a child who likes to play dress up. Kids – amazingly – enjoy playing dress up. Whether that means a young girl dressing up like Captain Hook (is she a cross-dresser?) or another child dressing up like Lotso Huggin Bear from Toy Story 3 (should we start labeling those kids “Furries?”) – it’s all just dress up. It’s fun! It’s silly! It’s creative! It’s childhood! So, can we please lose the labels? That would be a great place to start.

If we didn’t have such strict and stringent gender codification in our society, then pictures like this would be as innocuous as the mom who posts pictures of her son playing soccer or of her daughter playing with dolls. It’s only because these pictures step outside the norm that they become questioned.

Maybe – and just hear me out – instead of suggesting that we *don’t* share these pictures over fear that it will damage our children somehow, we actually share more of them in hopes of normalizing and accepting these types of things. SO much pressure is put on the whole “BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN” part when a child happens to travel outside his or her traditional gender box. Some times it could mean a lot. It could possibly mean that the child in question is challenging their gender identity and there is truly something deeper going on. But for many children who step outside these incredibly rigid gender lines, it just means they enjoy bold, beautiful colors, or sparkles, or being fancy, or materials that feel nice and special.

Being a “pink boy” doesn’t have to mean anything beyond being a boy who happens to love pink. It’s adults who put the larger significance on it. When Zuckerberg lumps dressing up outside gender norms along with “making mistakes” of childhood, she’s placing a (negative) value on it, when it is simply just another part of a child’s life, along with digging in the dirt, reading books, playing sports, etc…

Zuckerberg says, “It’s a fantastic thing to be proud of your child. We should always love and support our children no matter what, and we should applaud parents who bravely support their child in the face of society telling them otherwise. But it’s one thing to capture an adorable moment and send it to a few close friends and family. It’s another thing entirely to send it out into the void of the Internet, without thought of future repercussions.”

Would she say the same thing to the mother who posts a picture of her little girl dressed up for a ballet recital?

I’m thinking of “future repercussions.” I’m thinking that posting pictures like these – showing kids having fun and being creative – sets a precedent that children have the ability to express themselves freely. These pictures also help challenge the status quo, so that the next time a little boy happens to paint his nails or wear pink, it isn’t cause to stop the presses, make a huge deal of it, and question the child or the parents. It would be just another kid, doing things that some kids just happen to do.

So, I say… Share! I’m not advocating sharing anything that would embarrass your kid, of course. But I also don’t agree that stepping outside gender norms is embarrassing or troubling at all. So share your child being his or her self – whether that be knee-deep in dirt or waist high in tutus (or rocking pink crocs & a purple hoodie while walking down the street with his dad… As the case may be).

It’s often believed that nobody can recognize a baby’s cry as accurately as his or her mother, but a study published today in Nature Communications by a team of French scientists led by Erik Gustafsson of the University de Saint-Etienne found that fathers can do it equally well—if they spend as much time with their offspring as mothers do.

…

When the researchers split the data along gender lines, they found something interesting. The factor that best predicted which parents were best at identifying their child’s cries was the amount of time the parent spent with their babies, regardless of if they were the mother or father

The part I’ve bolded is what stuck out to me. Regardless of gender, parents who spent more time with their newborns were able to correctly identify their cries. Science!

EZ & MD…the early days.

I’ve written before about MD and his quest for some semblance of paternity leave from work when EZ was born. He cobbled together a month off between 1 week of allotted paternity leave, 1 week of paid vacation, and 2 weeks taken under FMLA. If he could have had more time to spend with our new family, I know he would have taken it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. And, in the reality of the United States, both paternity and maternity leave don’t come easily. Parents are stuck using paid vacation or sick time, or making the difficult choice between going back to work or staying home without a paycheck and benefits.

Pile on top of this the cultural status quo of women being the primary caregivers (leaving men to hurry back to work post birth) and then we wonder why men who haven’t spent much time with their children can’t identify their cries… The Smithsonian piece sums up what this all means rather nicely at the end:

Fathers might have the same innate parenting skills as mothers, but only if they make the enormous time investment necessary. This study indicates that it’s usually not the case, and though its sample size was extremely limited, broader data sets show the same. According to the most recent Pew Research data on parenting, the average American mother spends 14 hours per week in child care duties, compared to just 7 hours for the average father—so while men can develop the ability to know their babies just as well as women, most fathers out there probably haven’t so far.

The question now becomes… how do we get to the place where parents can make that time investment?

Earlier this morning I anxiously awaited the verdict in the Steubenville rape case. I was on edge, and I wasn’t even personally connected to this case beyond being a woman, a mother of a son, and somebody with a ton of heartache and sympathy for the victim. My emotions were a mix of nerves, fear, and anger. I was scared that the verdict would be ‘not guilty’ (and wondered of the potential repercussions) – but I wouldn’t allow my mind to hold on to that thought. How could anyone who heard all of the evidence and testimony come back – in good conscience – with a not guilty verdict? I was also so damn mad each time I read a headline or tweet where a publication had put quotes around the word rape, as if it was quite real or actually happened.

Then, finally – the verdict. Both young men were found guilty, solidifying what many of us already knew. Since this was tried in juvenile court, the sentencing wasn’t as harsh as it could/should have been: Ma’lik Richmond was sentenced to a minimum of one year in a juvenile rehabilitation facility with the maximum extending until he turns 21 on a juvenile charge of rape; Trent Mays, who was also found delinquent on a charge of illegal use of a minor in nudity-oriented material, was sentenced to a minimum of two years and a “consecutive” sentence that could last until he turns 24.

Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richmond

It’s been reported that the boys – who had yet to show any real remorse – broke down crying upon hearing their sentences. Are we expected to feel sorry for these boys? Where were these tears while they were sexually violating their sixteen year old victim? Sure I feel bad that their futures are pretty screwed up because of this, but that’s on them. You know who else’s future is probably going to be really challenging? Jane Doe’s. She has to not only live with the fact that she was raped, but that evidence of her rape was broadcasted via social media while her town rallied behind her rapists instead of her. So sorry if I’m not feeling overly sentimental for the two young men crying in court earlier today.

There’s also this – after being found guilty, both Richmond and Mays made statements of apology, but you know what they forgot to apologize for? Raping her.

“I would truly like to apologize to [girl's name], her family, and the community. No pictures should have been sent around, let alone taken.”  - Trent Mays

“I would like to apologize to you [girl's name]. I had no intention to do anything like that.” – Ma’lik Richmond

Excuse me if I can’t muster up an ounce of sympathy for these young men. I know teenagers are impulsive, I know that they can sometimes do stupid things (trust me, my list of teenage stupid would be pretty bad), but let’s not equate rape with “stupid, teenage actions.” Stupid teenage actions involve “borrowing” your parents car to skip school or staying out past your curfew and sneaking back in the house smelling  like cigarettes or pot. Raping an unconscious girl, photographing it, and sharing said photographs is not simply stupid nor can it be excused as regular teenage behavior. I will not devalue either teenagers in general or young men specifically by defaulting in that direction.

These boys SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. There is no excuse for not knowing this. In the months since this case first came to light, there have been many discussions over rape and rape culture. I wrote about teaching my son not to rape, and this is something I continue to stick by. There are many layers to what happened in Steubenville from it occurring in a community that holds up its student athlete population in an unhealthy way, to promoting rape culture and sexist behavior threaded within its infrastructure.

I will repeat and will continue to repeat this until I’m blue in the face: We need to reframe how we talk about rape in this country. We need to end all the victim blaming BS and teach everyone in our society that rape is not okay and DO NOT RAPE.

My son is six years old. He already knows about bodily autonomy. Its starts early. He knows he is in charge of his body and he also knows he is not in charge of anyone else’s body. That means he stops if somebody lets him know he’s playing too hard. It means he asks before he tackles or tickles a friend. It means he feel comfortable enough to tell somebody stop or no and understands the power of those words. These are the building blocks that will then allow me to explain rape to him when he is older. Because I sure as hell just won’t assume that he’ll figure it out.

So while the verdict in this case came back as guilty, and Jane Doe can begin to regain some sense of justice in her life, this is far from over. We have only just begun as far as dismantling rape culture in this country. We have only just begun having the real, painful, but oh-so-necessary conversations we need to have.

Update: I just heard about CNN’s reporting of the verdict and it’s awfully appalling. CNN seems to be reporting the story in a “these poor boys & their now crappy future” frame. No, absolutely no. This wasn’t just something that happened to these boys. The rape is what happened to the victim, Jane Doe. Richmand and Mays aren’t the victims here – they are the perpetrators.

Tots In Genderland

Deborah invited me to pin to the board and of course I said yes, as this is right up my alley. I have a ton of pictures/posts from this site alone that challenges our views of gender stereotypes as they relate to children (but will do my best not to overtake the Pinterest board with them!). With my long curly-haired son and his painted toes and sparkly capes and penchant for pink, you know I am never at a loss to discuss these things.

One of my latest pins leads to a new photo essay from photographer Gabriele Galimberti who spent 18 months traveling around the world, snapping pictures of children and their favorite possessions. The pictures provide a glimpse into the lives of these children, and Galimberti’s own observation of his experiences is just as remarkable.

“The richest children were more possessive. At the beginning, they wouldn’t want me to touch their toys, and I would need more time before they would let me play with them. In poor countries, it was much easier. Even if they only had two or three toys, they didn’t really care. In Africa, the kids would mostly play with their friends outside.”

Maudy – Kalulushi, Zambia

What stood out to me as I looked through the photos was how much more gendered the toys became the more visibly well off the children were. Was this due to how these children were being raised or simply due to economics (which toys were affordable)? We often talk about kids, toys, and gender in absolute terms, but these pictures reminded me that there are many layers to consider when looking at this topic worldwide. Here in the US, we – for the most part – look at this topic through a privileged lens, whereas other areas of the world may not have that opportunity. Due to scarcity and economics, they do not have the same “luxury” to debate these ideas. That doesn’t make our need to discuss them any less valid or necessary, especially living in a culture that is so consumer based. But the reminder to look outside our world every so often doesn’t hurt either.

Sarah: Jordana Horn wrote an interesting post on Kveller.  She’s a talented writer with an interesting take on parenting and on life in general, and normally I find myself agreeing with her. But not this time. I understood her point, but I felt this ‘kvetch’ in my stomach, and I commented: Yes, it IS cool to brag about your kids. Or your job. Or your hooker boots. But maybe – just maybe – more of us should try to keep it real on Facebook, too. Just like Hollywood can mess with our heads about “true love,” Facebook can do a number on our self-esteem as parents. (Methinks I have a blogpost for Kveller.com ).

And there it was.

I had no idea what to do with the idea until I realized I was living the post.”Write about what you know,” people say – and that’s what I try to do. I write about being an expat in Israel. I write about divorce and fringe parenting (I was a noncustodial mother for a while.) I write about the things I’ve lived – the ugly and the exquisite. And so, after surviving another Saturday with my kids, I realized that THERE was the premise.

Avital: Yeah, I remember you asking for “lies” we tell on Facebook.

Sarah: YES. I crowd sourced. I love crowdsourcing. I love writing WITH an audience – not just for an audience. In fact, when I write, I usually write with a friend — someone who I send the post to as I go along. That person becomes my muse.

Avital: Well, it certainly worked with this post. It resonated with a TON of people!

Sarah: I’m thrilled by the reaction.

Avital: Why do you think people connected to it so fiercely?

Sarah: I think a few things worked for this post:

1. we are all the imperfect parents of imperfect children.
2. anyone who says they LOOOOOOVE being with their kids 24/7 is either lying or had a labotomy
3. I framed the post around my experience — my fuckups.

Avital: Yeah, there was definitely a feeling of – been there, done that. At least one my end as a reader. We need way more of that for sure.

Sarah: Actually, that’s why Im surprised by the tremendous reaction: I figured people would read this and think to themselves “yeah, been there done that. what’s her point?”

“Thursday. In varying degrees of joy and frustration” via Sarah’s FB page

Avital: We’re exposed to so much online – we’re all plugged in whether for work or pleasure or just because we don’t know what to do otherwise. So we’re bombarded with all these images – whether from Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest of “perfection.” It can be overwhelming.

Sarah: Yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. And I think envy is a totally natural response to it. Man, I wish I could rise about that, But when you find yourself wanting to compete against perfection, it’s exhausting.

Avital: Totally exhausting. And it only feeds into the self-doubt and internal judgment that is already present for many of us. Or at least…present for me.

Sarah: Yup. It isn’t JUST the pictures of families, or the sweet status messages. It’s also the stuff people are posting – the “organic foods” articles (While my kids eat Doritos), or the articles about brain development and tv (while my kids watch a Simpsons DVD).

Avital: I’m trying to dig back to the dark ages – how did people do this before the internet?

Sarah: PTA meetings. Brownie meetings. My mother HATED those.

Avital: Yeah, although at least with those – you could leave them for the most part when the event was over. Now, it feels like no escape unless you actively unplug (and who likes to do that? ha!)

Sarah: She and her close friend who lived on the other side of the country used to joke that they were the only ones who didn’t wax their legs. She kept it real – before “keeping it real” was a catchphrase. She’d show up to these meetings in a headscarf like a babushka, she never wore makeup, she didn’t give a good godamn. Well, at least i don’t think she did. She died before i could realize tha tmaybe she did care.

Avital: That’s the thing – we never know what sort of front folks are putting up. It sounds like your mother was incredibly genuine though, from everything you’ve shared about her.

Sarah: I’d like to think she was – from the grit under her nails from gardening, to her bare lashes.

Avital: But I do wonder what the tangible ramifications are of being exposed to all this “perfection” and trumped up ideal what is “good.”
I feel like that might be a perfect segue to another essay you wrote.

Sarah: we up the ante on ourselves.

#NoMoreFakebook via Sarah’s FB

Avital: On my end – I got so fed up with all these supposed images of what the ideal good mother was that it made me want to scream and tear my hair out. Instead, I decided to write a book(I happen to like my hair). The more I thought about it, the more I thought it would be more powerful to include stories from many women – all sharing their stories in hopes of breaking down this “good mother myth.” Sort of like your #NoMoreFakebook crusade

Sarah: I think we have a new hashtag, mama: #goodmothermyth

Avital: Lets rip back the curtain and let our real selves shine through. As I was slugging through the whole book proposal process, one of the things that kept me going was the hope that somewhere, one day, a new mom would be in a bookstore and find this book and connect with one, two, or many of the essays within it. And then she would realize that she wasn’t alone. And that she’s good, dammit.

Sarah: yes!

Avital: Even if she doesn’t have a Pinterest perfect life.

Sarah: I love that line – “a pinterest perfect life.”

Avital: Thanks. I mean, I have a Pinterest account. I dig the concept as much as the next gal, but… I use it with a hefty dose of reality. It would also help if corporate media didn’t keep pushing this myth as well.

Sarah: …and freaking Hollywood.

Avital: Fueling the “mommy wars.” Just today somebody I know wrote a thoughtful analysis about Sheryl Sandberg and “leaning in” and the editors chose to run with a title that included “mommy wars” when it really didn’t have much to do with the premise. So frustrating.

Sarah: hate. it.

Avital: How do we overcome this? We need to raise up our voices. Reclaim the way our stories are being told.

Sarah: We have to use humor. What we don’t want to do is to sound like clamorous harridans (I’m misspelling something somewhere).

Avital: But I think sometimes the truth isn’t always funny.

Sarah: Because there are sweet moments of motherhood that should not be overlooked – but by sharing the rough stuff, we allow those moments to really sparkle.

Avital: And that’s okay too.

Sarah: Indeed.

Avital: Really, I would just love to see ownership and promotion of real stories of motherhood/parenting that are vehicles for (not so) subtle judgment or competition.

Sarah: But you know what might happen? We all might try to outdo eachother with keeping it real.

Avital: Oy.

Sarah: “Oh, you have a sink full of dirty dishes? Well, I’ll see you your dirty dishes and raise you a clogged toilet, biotch!”

Avital: Is there anyway to… not “win” necessarily, but just come out unscathed?

Sarah: i wonder if there’s something hardwired in our nature that makes this so. And no, not everyone is like that — but i’m seeing it already.

Avital: Did you see any reactions like that re: your #NoMoreFakebook post?

Sarah: Not yet.

Avital: I’m just glad that your post got the reaction it did. Makes me hopeful that others are fed up, like me, and ready to scream out their realities – regardless of whether they’re pretty or not.

Sarah: I’m hopeful, too – and I think that even off the walls this could lead to more meaningful friendships between people.

Avital: That would be lovely.

Sarah: Hey, we’re talking. We built a friendship online out of this premise – your book. What I mean is we nurtured a friendship that germinated from the premise of your book, The Good Mother Myth.

Sarah and I talked for a bit more after this, but this was the meat of it all. The big thing from – that I took from Sarah’s post and that propelled me to create the book, was this idea that we’re constantly being inundated by messages of “perfection” and what is “good.” It’s enough to drive anyone to an early grave. What about you? What’s your reality? How do you not cave to the various messages hurled at us on a daily basis?

While I am thrilled to see midwives covered in the NYT as something other than folk heroes, I disagree with specific elements of the characterization and want to provide readers with some facts on midwifery as a safe, practical, and age-old healthcare practice, as compared to a trend that we as women choose based on pop culture or emotion.

1. Midwifery is not a trend or a fad; it’s probably the oldest profession in the book.

Midwives? Not a trend. Midwives are truly the oldest profession in the world, not to be confused with prostitution, which I am pretty confident didn’t actually pop up until much later than women started supporting each other in childbirth. Women supporting each other in childbirth, is an old business, folks, I am talking seriously old here.
The Old Testament offers us the following Hebrew term translated “the midwife” (hameyaledet) that can be translated “the childbirth assisting woman.” This term occurs in the singular (“midwife”) three times: in Genesis 35:17, Genesis 38:28 and in Exodus 1:16. The plural form (“midwives”) occurs at least seven times, and all in the first chapter of the book of Exodus. I am not sure I would consider the Old Testament trendy, but I do believe they were on to something.

2. Midwifery is not just for “crunchy types” – it’s the leading form of health care for pregnant women in some of the most developed countries around the world.

COHI workers in Sri Lanka

Midwives around the world are the lead and primary health care providers for pregnant women. This includes women delivering in villages and huts, and it includes women delivering in high tech hospitals and birth centers all over the world. Midwives are trained in healthy birth, and how to identify risky pregnancies through thorough prenatal care and screening. When this model works, women’s and babies’ lives are saved, ensuring that the 15% of the population that needs emergency care gets it in a timely manner.

In many of the more developed places where midwives are the primary health care providers for pregnant women, we are on average talking about moms who are educated, professional, and have access to information, insurance, and the provider of their choice. The key difference between us and them? They are very likely covered by a socialized health care system.

Another perk that women in most socialized countries benefit from is the post-deliver home visit. This goes a long way in saving socialized systems from paying out for mental health as this can easily be assessed in a home setting where it can easily be missed in a clinical setting. Other things that can be observed during home visits are hygiene, drug addiction, and domestic violence. All public health causes that the US has yet to champion.

3. The main reason you may have so much trouble getting into a midwifery practice has less to do with the quality of care they provide or its “elite” status and more to do with the profit-driven nature of the American health care system.

The primary differences between physicians and midwives in the US are cost and the model of care being offered. Health care in the US being a for-profit venture places us, women of reproductive age, in a powerful position. The impact of the US dollar is no small threat, or promise, and as consumers of pregnancy and labor care, it is up to us to decide what model we want. If we were to lobby with our dollars for midwifery care, we would find it poking up in far from trendy places like middle America and even, I dare say, in red states. As long, however, as the profit margin rests with the physicians then this is the model of care that will continue to reign supreme.

What an article like this one hopefully does for women and midwives is raise the profile of this midwife-provided care as an option to pregnant women, and the need, around the world, for more midwives. A recent report from the World Health Organizations provides new information and data gathered from 58 countries in all regions of the world. Its analysis confirms that the world lacks some 350,000 skilled midwives — 112,000 in the neediest 38 countries surveyed — to fully meet the needs of women around the world.

COHI’s work in Sri Lanka

If boutique midwifery clinics in Park Slope and Manhattan are what it takes in the US for midwifery to become a profession that people choose to pursue and that we as mothers choose to support as consumers, then more power to this trend. But if this is not what happens and midwifery in the US continues to be available only in upwardly mobile urban centers and the more rural and organic thinking communities then many women who would greatly benefit from a powerfully, transforming, and intervention-free birth, which is what midwives excel at doing.

4. Midwives can help mothers give birth to healthy babies, but no one can promise a perfect delivery from start to finish

Lastly, one myth of the midwife that I would like to dispute that is asserted by the author is that midwives offer control to the delivering woman. In the US, those of us who come from power and privilege often assert this during our interactions with our health care providers. Choosing to use a midwife for your delivery does not, for all of the positive attributes to this model of care, guarantee us the happy, empowered birth we dream of. That responsibility lies with us, and only us. One of the sad outcomes of increased use of midwives, and this is not to be attributed to midwives, is the dogma surrounding the “right” way to be pregnant, to delivery, to feed, and to raise up our kids. Shame on us as consumers for the disengagement we afford ourselves and the pressure we place on midwives to deliver the birth we want. In birth, as in life, it is equal parts preparation and luck. You get what the birth fairy brings you, and it is the job of whoever is providing your health care to ensure that you are informed, advocated for, and safe.

*COHI is currently participating in Amplify Austin, a 24 hour event geared toward raising money for non-profits in Austin, TX.

 Sera Bonds is a social justice, grassroots activist committed to working towards balancing the scales of access, equity, and availability in women’s reproductive health care. She has training in massage therapy, midwifery, a Bachelor of Arts degree in Women’s Studies, and a Master’s degree in Public Health. Her community organizing background ranges from reproductive rights to violence against women, to welfare and poverty issues to anti-war campaigns. She has worked on women’s health issues with teenage and minority mothers in rural areas of the Western U.S.; with refugee communities in Boston, Massachusetts; and with midwives in Northern India, Guatemala, Tibet, Palestine, tsunami-affected Sri Lanka, Sudan, Tanzania, Haiti, and Israel; with commercial sex workers on issues of HIV/AIDS in Vietnam; and with female evacuees from hurricanes Rita and Katrina in Louisiana. She founded Circle of Health International, as U.S.-based NGO, with the hope of giving voice to conflict- and disaster-affected women’s reproductive health needs on an international scale. Sera served as a visiting lecturer and Public Health Scholar-In-Residence at Ben Gurion University in Beer Sheva, Israel, an International Reproductive Health Fellow at NARAL-Texas, and was selected as a recipient of Boston University’s School of Public Health’s Distinguished Alumni Award. She currently lives in South Austin, Texas, working for a U.S. abortion advocacy organization focusing on increasing access in the Southern U.S., and lives with her husband, two toddler age sons, and loves every minute of it.

My friend Annie from PhD In Parenting -  who has written about Meyer and Sandberg before -  is eager for the focus on the work/life balance to move beyond a women’s issue to one that is a parenting issue. In hopes of widening the conversation, Annie has put out a call, asking for parents to write about their own households  and what the parenting split looks like within it. I asked Annie more about her motivation behind this call for stories:

There are two things that prompted me. One is the continued focus on work/life balance as a women’s issue. I’d like to see it be a people’s issue. Why do women need to worry about whether their workplace has family friendly policies, while men (and men’s bosses) just assume they’ll keep on doing what they did in the same way they did before they had kids? The other reason is that I keep being told that equally shared parenting is impossible if the mom breastfeeds. I know that isn’t true (it wasn’t in our home) and I want to provide some examples for how you can breastfeed and still maintain equality.

I’m all for adding more stories to the narrative of parenting, and said that I would be happy to share my own…

We need to start by going back in time, about ten years ago. I was teaching high school social studies and was the primary wage earner while MD was in school full time working on his doctorate. That’s the way our unit of two worked for four years. I paid the bills, and MD wracked them up (well, okay, he wracked up student loans, but we’re still paying for them, so….). Then, just as he finished his program, we got pregnant. Literally, on the day he graduated, I woke up, peed on a stick and bam – we were having a baby!

We also decided to move out of state that summer. MD had a job waiting for him, and I was finishing up my Masters thesis, which I had began two years earlier (Yes. I simultaneously worked full time while working on my MA). At the time we moved, I was already 6 months pregnant, and couldn’t fathom starting over teaching at a new school only to leave 3 months in for maternity leave, so I opted to focus on my studies. MD, with his new job, was the primary wage earner now. Our roles were reversed but things went on as usual.

If by usual you mean hula hooping in the yard while pregnant. Then, yeah. The usual.

I firmly believe that it was because we had both been the sole wage earner at a point in our relationship that we were able to easily slide into an equitable parenting relationship. We had already done away with the traditional gender roles, so we didn’t fall into that trap either accidentally or willingly.

When the kiddo was born, I was in the editing phase of my thesis, and still focused on my academics. MD was working, but manage to scrap together a month off between paid family leave, paid vacation, and unpaid time off from work. I also firmly believe that MD having an entire month off from work helped solidify are more equitable parenting structure, and I can only imagine the benefits our family would have received had he been eligible for more. (Alas, in this country, we know that ain’t happening).

Here’s a breakdown of parenting in the Norman Nathman household through the years:

-When the kiddo was a wee one, neither of us slept much, but we slept enough. We breastfed, which necessitated me being up with the kiddo at all hours of the night. However, in the beginning, he was also making a lot of wet and dirty diapers. Since I was the one up to feed him, MD was the one to deal with the diapers. I was able to fall asleep much faster/easier and MD is the master of going right back to deep sleep, so he was fine. Breaking up the nighttime parenting like that caused less resentment on either of our parts and assured that we both got some sleep – which is totally better than no sleep. I’ll be honest and say that co-sleeping was also key for us. I know it doesn’t work for everyone, but being able to roll over, get my son nursing and essentially fall back to sleep was huge in allowing me to feel like I wasn’t running on fumes 24/7.

Our family of 3
(6 years ago!)

-While MD was home in that first month, pretty much everything else was equal – we shared meal prep, cleaning, baby stuff, etc… After he went to work, only a few things changed. I took on a bit more responsibility when it came to household chores, most notably laundry and grocery shopping, but everything else remained fairly equal.

- Babywearing was our savior. Seriously. I know not every baby enjoys being worn, but EZ was all about it. MD would pop the kiddo into a sling or mei tai and head off on a walk or go do the dishes. I could get things done while wearing him that I doubt I could have accomplished otherwise. Babywearing helped keep us sane well into the toddler years, and prevented many arguments about nap time – both between parents and parent & child.

A father, his son, and an Ergo.

-Now, with the kiddo being 6 (SIX!) years old, and both of us working, it’s a little bit different but still pretty equal. We both have strange schedules – since I work primarily out of the home, my time is a bit more flexible, however MD only works 4 days a week, so he has some flexibility as well. We split school drop off/pick up between ourselves depending on who is home or who has appointments, etc… EZ has a few after school activities that also get split evenly depending on who is home (as in, if MD is off work, he’s the one taking the kiddo). Grocery shopping is an even split now as well, same goes for cooking. We each tackle cleaning in our own ways. I prefer to clean as I go, whereas MD enjoys doing one huge deep clean every 2 weeks or so. It balances the housework nicely and we manage to have a decently clean house (save for the hundreds of Lego pieces that still manage to fall under foot).

-When he’s home, MD is the go-to parent when it comes to bedtime, and I only do it when he’s working past 8 (which happens 2x/week). The kiddo is old enough to do bath time by himself and he also pitches in with some chores. I’m more than happy to have him see his father fold laundry, wash dishes, make dinner, as well as seeing me take out the trash, do minor fix-it type jobs around the house, etc…

-As I type this, on a Saturday morning, MD and EZ are downstairs playing Wii after having read books together. I’ve worked on our taxes and typed up this post. Our weekends are usually split between things we want to do and things we have to do – each of us gets some alone time if we want/need it.

I don’t think of our family as remarkable in any sense, but I do think we’re outside the norm when it comes to our parenting split. I don’t think of my husband as my son’s babysitter and he doesn’t see himself in that role either. Sure there are days when I take on the brunt of household chores or parenting responsibilities, but the pendulum swings both ways. Next weekend I’ll be gone for a couple of days, but I have no worries over what will happen while I’m away. MD doesn’t live up to or default to the “big oaf” daddy trap – it’s insulting to both of us. He’s a parent just as much as I am. Our parenting methods might differ, but our goals are the same.

I will say though, that we do get some pushback from those outside our family. MD’s place of work sometimes doesn’t understand why he tries to rearrange his schedule to be able to attend school or sports events. When he wanted to take a month off after the birth if EZ, he was met with a bit of resistance and a lot of bewilderment from his boss who couldn’t comprehend why MD would want to be home with his family. Also, because I work from home, there’s a lot of expectation from others that I take on all of the housework since “it’s just so convenient!” There is still definitely an overall attitude that women – by default – take on the majority of household chores, regardless of their work status. If a woman chooses to be a homemaker, then I can understand that thought, but otherwise? We all live here, we all pitch in, it’s as simple as that. We’re raising our son so that he understands the value of equality, both inside the home as well as outside of it.

However, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention our village that helps us out, made up of both biological family and chosen family. Our intentional community of friends and relatives help us out from carpooling, playmates, shared meals, in times of need, etc… That helps lighten the load for all of us. We are also fortunate to have work that, despite some unique challenges, affords us with a good degree of flexibility.

All that said – it’s far from perfect here. There are days where the house is littered with rumpled baskets of clean clothes because nobody feels like folding them. We probably eat take out more than we’d prefer simply because we get too lazy/busy to cook. I’m fairly certain my kitchen floors haven’t been washed in months (they look clean, so…) and there’s usually a dirty pot or dish in the sink. But, for the most part we’re happy, healthy, and usually have clean underwear, so I’d say we’re managing pretty well.

Yeah, it can get messy, but we have fun.

What about you? What’s the situation like in your house? Are their two working parents? One parent working the other at home? Just one parent? What does the work/life balance look like in your home?

“Ah-vie-tull?”

“Ah-vittle?”

At almost 33 years old, I still not quite used to the ways my name gets butchered on a mostly daily basis. When I correct people (it’s pronounced Ah-vee-TAHL for the record), it can still take them a few tries to get their tongues around the not so familiar name, but more often than not, they will follow up with a compliment. “Oh…such a beautiful name. It’s quite unique.”

And yes, it is unique. Do I really need to go into the heart crushing experiences of my youth where nary an Avital keychain or magnet was to be found amidst the Jessica’s, Sarah’s, and Rachel’s in touristy gift shops? I am more than well aware that it’s not a super common name. But that knowledge didn’t quell my first day of class nerves that lasted through college as I awaited for the well meaning professor to trip up when they called out my name, or, as occasionally happened, bypassed my first name entirely as they searched the rows of students for some guy named Norman. It also doesn’t quell the annoyance at still having my name butchered at coffee shops or doctors’ offices.

That said, I also know the benefits to having an unusual name. Once somebody finally gets the pronunciation down, they don’t forget about it. The name sticks in their memory – for better or worse.

The reason I bring all of this up is because of 9 year old Quvenzhané Wallis and the challenge her name seems to create for some people. When it was first announced that Quvenzhané had been nominated for an Oscar, it felt like her name turned into an easy punchline for jokes from morning news reports to late night comedians. Some would just laugh while stumbling over the pronunciation while others made actual jokes. About the name of a 9 year old girl.

The night of The Oscars, her name became the focus again – once when the various reporters at E! decided to dub Quvenzhané  ”Little Q” to make their banter easier, and again when a reporter informed the young actress that she would refer to her as Annie (as it’s been widely reported that Quvenzhané will be playing the title role in a reboot of the classic film). Thankfully, Quvenzhané  set the her straight, stat.

(This isn’t even touching on the absolutely inexcusable tweet from The Onion. I could rant on about that all day, but I’ll point you over to Bitch, where my friend T.F. Charlton does an excellent job of explaining was was so wrong about it)

Here’s the thing: Names have power. They are a central part to our identities, and they deserve some respect, whether they’re easy to  pronounce or not. PostBourgie wrote a thoughtful analysis about the importance of names and the significance of Quvenzhané’s name, particularly as a young girl of color.

Not saying Quvenzhané’s name is an attempt, consciously or unconsciously, to step around and contain her blackness.  Yes, sometimes black people have names that are difficult to pronounce.  There aren’t many people of European descent named Shaniqua or Jamal.  Names are as big a cultural marker as brown skin and kinky hair, and there’s long been backlash against both of those things (see: perms, skin bleaching creams, etc.).   The insistence on not using Quvenzhané’s name is an extension of that “why aren’t you white?” backlash.

Despite my own hard to pronounce name, I will never be in the same situation as Quvenzhané Wallis. My white privilege assures me of that. So I can only imagine how many more challenges she will face, compared to my own, when it comes to her name. Our identities are intrinsically woven into our names, and when people can’t even be bothered to learn how to say them it sends a clear message – one that devalues, saying you’re not good or important enough to bother. If her turn in Beasts of the Southern Wild, and her handling of the spotlight so far tells us anything, Quvenzhané  is more than good enough.

I also want to hear who you would have included – share below!

And, as a little teaser… I will say that the inspirational woman I have somehow managed to snag to write the foreword of my book is among those listed! *zips lips*