When Kathryn Bigelow smashed through Hollywood’s glass ceiling at this month’s Oscars, she took with her years of women directors being pigeon-holed and typecast as directing “chick flicks.” As Manhola Dargis points out in her savvy article yesterday on the topic, Bigelow told Hollywood what’s what and silenced the critics. Yes, there will always be the Nancy Meyers and Nora Ephrons and Drew Barrymores who will direct lighter fair, but Ms. Bigelow showed all of us that no matter what Hollywood thinks or reports about female directors, there’s now room in the club for women to direct more “manly” type films, if you will.
Flash to another section of the NY Times yesterday and you’ll find another outlet of the media doing just what Hollywood did to female directors up until this year - typecasting mommy bloggers as doing anything and everything to promote their blogs and make money. The article is snarky and sassy and makes it seem that all we’re out here doing is shilling for baby wipes at the expense of taking care of our kids.
The”mommy blogger“ behemoths have rightly stated their opinions online and I care not to rehash the debate of who said what, if you’ve chosen to work at home or at an office or out of your car or whatever. I just wanted to point out that even if it took 82 freaking years (can you even imagine blogging that long?), Ms. Bigelow rose above the “chick flick” female director fray and did something powerful and magical with her movie.
And we have to remember that we can too. The media can write its sensational headlines and try to pit mom vs. mom, blogger vs. blogger (or both), but as long as we write about what we believe in and do what we like with our sites, no one can mess. Eventually we will break through the clutter and be seen for more than the dirty diapers we journal about on occasion.
I just hope I’m alive to see it.
Months of filling out forms, making phone calls (some out of desperation), writing notes and chatting (battling the rumor mill) will all come (hopefully) to an end this week when we find out if our son got into one of the private schools we applied him for Junior Kindergarten. (Save the snickering for somone else.)
I know this isn’t the be all end all of anything or that my son will end up some sort of mutant rebel in a crackhouse if he doesn’t get into school, but because I can smell the acceptance diss letters in the mailwoman’s bag, I’m having heart palipatations like you can’t believe. (Only amplified by the fact that we’re headed out on vacation on Friday just about the day the magical envelopes are set to arrive.)
I can commiserate with her, sort of, but she does have a little special-ness that I just can’t compete with. (And not because she’s cute as a button IRL.)
But other than harass my husband with the what-if scenarios (which include everything but me lying naked on the doorstep of our first choice school in a harrowing attempt to woo someone with my sick-ass bod to let my child into the school if he doesn’t get in), all I can really do is wait. it. out, cross my fingers and hope for the best.
The good news is that if it doesn’t work out, a bunch of us are just going to open up a one-room school house in my basement just like Little House on the Prarie. Because I can rock a bonnet with the best of them.
Good thing there’s only 5 days to go. My wardrobe and heart can’t take much more angst.
Every month I coordinate a topical discussion with a speaker for parents of my son’s preschool. And every time one of these smart and distinguished speakers appears I walk away more informed and also a little bat sh** crazy.
Today, we had the pleasure of listening to the well-spoken Allison of Ecominders who helps people to remember to be green and reminded me of all the dangers lurking around my house.
The one I’m most mad about right now? That my new and fabulous Ice Mountain water cooler stores its water in BPA laden water jugs. I should have known and looked for that devilish #7, but I was naive and really was enjoying the hot tap. I’m not totally down on Ice Mountain, though. When I called and asked the company about BPA in their water jugs, the customer service rep had her talking points at the ready. But even if the ingestible amount in the plastic is .001 I still don’t want it near my baby.
So besides getting bat sh** crazy at myself for not being more dilligent in my research, what else can I do? Go back to good ‘ol Chicago City tap I guess.
Tagged as:
Green Living
In a change of events to my personal plans (read: need sleep, stop nursing), I can no longer use the awesome nursing supplies provided to me to review by the ever so generous folks over at Bravado.
But, as the saying goes, my loss is your gain.
If you’re nursing and can tell me your MOST embarassing nursing in public story (I didn’t say it would take nothing), you will win a FREE NURSING BRA from Bravado! Winner gets to pick their own size and color and will get the tank within 2-4 weeks (go to - www.bravadodesigns.com to pick).
I’ll say this contest ends next Friday, mmm k? Good luck!
In some ways I feel like life as I knew has come to a screeching halt. My “professional” work doing occasional freelance writing has dried up just like my milk supply.
It wasn’t totally intentional that I would stop writing and breastfeeding around the same time, but apparently, the less time I sit at my computer to write, the less milk I produce.
In my current, sleep-deprived state, I’m not necessarily missing conducting interviews while bouncing baby burrito in his seat, or having engorged boobs in the morning. But, it’s nice to be needed. The cries of hunger that eminate from the crib can now be quenched by daddy, or nana, or just about anyone who I beg to come over to help so I can just. go. pee. I liked being the only one who provided nourishment for his little (not so little at 3 months) belly.
It’s also nice to use my brain. There’s only so much television I can watch in an afternoon (and the DVR makes it so much easier to pack it all in). As much as a small assignment stresses me out, I like having my BlackBerry calendar buzz with a calendar reminder of something other than “Get Diapers.” (Yes, I set calendar reminders for such things.)
Motherhood the second time around has brought me a lot of pride, not the least of which is that I felt comfortable enough to breastfeed in public multiple times, not anxious whatsoever to hide the baby under a terrific hooter hider. (FYI, as a Bravado Ambassador, I found it interesting that according to a recent Bravado Breastfeeding Information Council report, where, when and how to feed your baby away from home is a source of concern for many new breastfeeding moms. Up to 30 percent state that having to breastfeed in public creates anxiety for themselves and their spouses.)
I also felt I could conquer more than perhaps I could. Having two kids decreased the amount of free time I had by a factor of like 70, not two. And such, I can’t really feel good about myself putting the baby on the activity mat and the older in front of the television just so I can write up a few paragraphs.
At least not yet.
I’m in a bit of a personal and professional lull and I’m thinking that’s probably okay for now. While my lack of milk will be a permanent change to my body, the professional well will fill up again as soon as I can see QWWERTY straight on my keyboard again. (See! A typo on QWERTY!)
They don’t stay babies forever, and so if I’m not being needed in the same way, I’ll take what I need for now. A little lull.
by selfmademom on February 16, 2010 · 1 comment
Son: “Mommy, why did such and such (name witheld) leave our class earlier this year?”
Me: “Well, she quit.”
Son: “What’s quitting?”
Me: “Hmmm… (realizing I probably shouldn’t use that term loosely around an almost four-year-old.) It’s when you decide not to do something anymore. Sometimes it’s good and sometimes it’s bad. Like, remember I used to work? Remember I showed you my office downtown? But then I quit my job to stay home.”
Son: “Yeah… you quit because you wanted to be a mommy. And be around kids.”
Me: “Yeah, something like that.”
If only it were so cut and dry, right?
