Mamassage

and your chicks for free

I was just over at The Mother of All Blogs today and found an interesting post about the newest campaign to appeal to take advantage of mothers. If you haven’t heard, there’s a new online “mom–focused web series”. It’s called In the Motherhood. And at first glance, it seems really cool. I mean there are these communities and games and such. In fact, if you were to submit a piece about your life, this “community” could vote on whether or not it gets written into a future script. Sounds great, right? Well, actually, not so much. Not really at all, once you think about it. Ann Douglass and her commenters focused quite a bit on copy write laws, the inherent value of one’s contribution, and the ilk. Most of them appear to be writers, so they immediately went in that direction with their feedback. It’s a thought provoking post/discussion. I thoroughly encourage you to go check it out. And while I enjoyed reading all of their thoughts, I still had this niggling concern that just kept buzzing around the back of my brain. After washing a few dishes and making up Kajsa’s meds, I finally pinned it down. It was this: We as moms have finally been recognized as a rather desperate population. And once that acknowledgment was made, did corporations stop to find a way to truly try to unite and uplift us? Of course not. Why would they? What they did do, though, was find a fairly effective way to exploit our isolation, our feelings of invisibility, and, yes, our “I haven’t slept well in five years. It’s a good thing I don’t have to think about how to make a peanut butter sandwich” boredom. “Come on down!” they say. “We’ll give you an outlet. We’ll let you talk to other grown ups. Just give us (give us!) all your original ides and stories. Then you can watch us make over your life with prettier people who are bound to have more sex appeal than you. But that’s OK, ‘cause you, and you alone, can bask in the knowledge that it was your life to which you’ve now given away the rights. You are the funny, inspirational, touching lady beneath Leah Remini’s skin.” I just don’t buy it. I won’t contribute. I don’t really want you to either. If you want to have online friends and recognition, start a blog. Write posts. Visit other moms’ blogs and tell them how great you really think they are. That’s where the real empowerment lies. Not in some artificial environment brought to you by people who will never see your brilliance as anything but another faceless dollar sign.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Don Knotts died today at 81. He won a several Emmys for his role as Barney Fife, and tickled our funny bones as Mr. Furley.  My favorites, though, will always be Theodore Ogelvie in The Apple Dumpling Gang and his repeat Scoobie-Doo performances as himself/detective/groundskeeper.

Huffman Hero

I must admit it. I watch Desperate Housewives. But I watch, mostly, because it’s sandwiched between the Building Skate Ramps for Kids with No Bones Show, and my serious addiction Grey’s Anatomy. Don’t get me wrong. It’s an OK show. And I really liked it last year. But, really, my life doesn’t need any more quirky, random drama.

Despite all of that, I have another reason for viewing DH. I have a lot of admiration for one of the actresses, Felicity Huffman. Recently, I heard an interview with Ms. Huffman on NPR. She spoke very little about her roll as Lynette Scavo, and chose to discuss, instead, at length another project, Transamerica, In which she portrays a pre-operative male-to-female transsexual. Not exactly a walk down Wisteria Lane, there.

But mostly, I liked her interview because she talked about meeting her husband, William H. Macy , and about her take on acting. She didn’t just rattle on about the wonder of being in a top rated TV show. I felt like I could sit down and have an interesting conversation with her over, say, Chinese takeout.

She was again interviewed recently by Lesley Stahl. And while I don’t tune into 60 Minutes, I did find this interface to be quite interesting.

Stahl: Is this the happiest time of your life, being a mommy?
Huffman: No, no, and I resent that question. Because I think it puts women in an untenable position, because unless I say to you, "Oh, Lesley, it's the best thing I've ever done with my whole life," I'm considered a bad mother. And just when I said 'no' you, you went back. [mimics Stahl recoiling]
Stahl: Let me rephrase it then. Are you a good mother?
Huffman: I don't know if I'm a good mother.

YES, YES, YES!

STANDING OVATION!!!

Now, I know I’m not the only one out there who feels this way. Thank goodness someone famous had the eggs to say it!

How many of us knows – really knows- that she is a good mother? I don’t. I know that I love my girls. I know that I’d lay down on a train track to save them. I know that I work hard to make sure that they feel good about themselves while learning to treat others kindly and with respect.

I know that I sometimes get angry with them. I also know that there are days when that anger has more to do with me than with them. I know that if this didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be true to myself...or to them.

I resent our culture for instilling the notion that I am somehow supposed to be super human, just because all of my reproductive organs are functional. The magic of pregnancy has to do with the fact that a human being can form within and then emerge from another person.

There is; however, no mysterious transformative event that occurs to make us better people. We all enter into motherhood hoping that we can figure out how to make it through without causing serious psychological damage to another person. We also hope that we might be able to hold onto a shred of our former hobbies, jobs, social group/status, identity. Some of us do (with or with out grace) grasp, however tenuously that former self. And some of us simply redefine ourselves.

No, I wouldn’t say that being a mommy is the happiest time of my life. I would say that it contains some of the happiest moments of my life. But there is nothing glorious about wiping noses, butts, and counters. There is no elation in worrying that your child could get sick, molested, or (heaven forbid) poor grades. Motherhood is hard. It should be. That’s how we get good solid adults out of the deal. And while it does include countless trips to the playground, it will never be a walk in the park.

.....................................................................................................................................................

-- edited to add that although I refer to mothers as those who've experienced pregnancy, this is only due to my own personal experience. 
I have nothing but respect for those who parent without having first physically gestated. 
For that matter, daddies rock, too. --

Are you also addicted to LOST?

If not, do not even bother with reading this post. It would be completely lost on you.

 

"Welcome to Oceanic Air! How can I help you?"
"Hi. I'm just checking in. I have a question -- I couldn't help but notice that I didn't get a seat assignment with my ticket."
"Oh, let me look... Yes. Well, we have just a few questions before we can give your seat assignment."
"Questions?"
"Yes."
"Like frequent flyer accounts, exit/bulkhead row sorts of things?"
"No. We at Oceanic give seats according to background questions we ask all our passengers."
"Like what?"
"Well, for example, would you say you have an interesting back story?"
"Come again?"
"Back story. Your past. Would you say it's compelling?"
"I don't understand."
"Well, from your past, would you say you have any deep-seated worries or shames? Any profound sadnesses? Any incredibly melodramatic events?"
"Well, no. No. Not really."
"How's your relationship with your father?"
"My father? It's good."
"By 'good', do you mean tortured, resentful, estranged..."
"What? No! No."
"Okay."
"How is that good?"
"What?"
"Resentful? Estranged? That's not good."
"From a storytelling angle, it can be very good."
"Um. Okay."
"What brought you to Australia ?"Vacation."
"And by vacation, are we talking, say...running a con, or stalking a murder victim, on the lam from Federal Marshals? Are you undercover in the war on terror?"
"What? No!"
"Tracking your drunk and desperate father?"
"What did I just tell you about my father?"
"Sorry, sir. Are you by any chance pregnant with a magical mystery baby? Have sex with a step sister?"
"Okay. Look. This is retardulous."
"4. 8. 15. 16. 23. 42."
"Sigh. Is that my seat assignment?"
"Huh? Should it be?"
"What?"
"What?"
"What?"
"4. 8. 15. --"
"Yes! I heard you before! What are those numbers?"
"Do those numbers make you upset?"
"Are you freaking kidding me?"
"You seem upset."
"I'm upset because I don't understand what you are talking about!"
"The numbers don't mean anything to you?"
"They have meaning to me only in that they appear to be the idiot sounds coming out of your idiot lips!"
"OK. So you're quick to anger?"
" -- "
"And the numbers mean nothing to you."
" -- "
"Hmm! Interesting! You're angry, boring, and prone to just being silent for long periods."
"Look. I don't know what this is about. I just want my seat assignment. Okay? Is that too freaking hard for you to grasp with your ignorant brain? Give me my seat assignment!"
"Sure thing, sir. 40G."
"That's like, back in the tail."
"Right."
"Okay."
"If you had a compelling personal narrative, we could move you into the center section."
"No. That's fine."
"Thank you for flying Oceanic."

 

Posted to the ABC LOST forum: Nov 22 by: Single_Guy (10 Posts in the last 90 days) Registered:  Feb 21, 2005