My daughter hangs out with a lot of moms. Right now, she is at Chloe's, and it is Chloe's mom who is placing sparkle on my daughter's face, brushing her long hair and tying it back. She is supervising two girls getting into two cowgirl costumes for the school talent show.
Now that I think about it, it was Chloe's mom who prowled the aisles at Target and Old Navy, finding the perfect $3.99 outsized cowboy hat for the girls' act, using a glue-gun to staple sequins on their denim shorts, keeping an eye on their practice schedule so they would be prepared for the show. Chloe's mom whipped up spaghetti and turkey meat loaf when the rehearsals and playdates ran late. "It's nice that your husband lends you out like this," I said to her, half-joking, half-marveling at the miracle that is a full-time wife and mother.
Before I had a daughter, I believed in the myth of the mommy wars -- a seething, if unspoken battle between the full-time at home moms and the working moms. It's not entirely a myth of course: there can be tension, a lack of trust and understanding between women who have followed different paths, and particularly, who expend their energy as parents in different ways.
I used to hear women say, "I'm important in my family and that's the only place that matters," and wonder if they had missed entirely the way the world is a large and exciting stage. Having no firsthand sense of the leading role that a mother plays in the lives of her children, I imagined they were evolutionary throwbacks, who had missed the dawning of a careerist age for women. Now I am grateful for these moms -- the full-time, or mostly-so on the scene ones, because they keep a lot of ships floating.
They are the room mothers, devising games and crafts for the school Valentine's Day parties. They are the volunteers at field days and field trips, the Brownie leaders, the mothers with discretionary time who, instead of writing novels, create imaginative events in their children's lives.
A friend of mine -- a C.P.A. who switched careers to full-time mom -- gave her sons "sticky stuff" birthday parties, a concept she invented specifically so they could make the kinds of gooey messes no one wants in their home. I can only imagine how heroic her sons must think their mom, the one who awed their friends by letting them express their inner-stickiness.
So many factors go into parenting that I have long since abandoned any hope of understanding clear cut rules for turning out happy and productive children. What I have learned is that expertise, in general, ought not be underestimated: It's the passion for excellence I want my daughter, Lina, to emulate, not the glue gun.
This week, and for a few before that, Chloe's mom subbed for me in a way that made a clear difference in the life of an eight-year-old girl who is not her daughter. Lina and Chloe danced at the talent show with style born of practice, and sequins that would never, under any circumstances, be part of my personal maternal repertoire. And she's not the only one -- there are a slew of mom sorority sisters who know when a big swoop-in or save is needed. My own mom -- Lina's dedicated, on-the-scene, amazing grandmother -- goes so far above and beyond that I can't in fairness include her here.
My daughter hangs out with a lot of moms who look out for her as if she were their own. That this club of moms exists is a continuing revelation, in the sense that it creates a sense of gratitude and sometimes even awe.
This is one of the reasons, I have belatedly learned, there is a holiday that honors mothers of all styles and gifts. They call it Mother's Day. Have a very happy one.
-Laura Berman
I would like to thank my dear friend Laura for the kind words, she brought tears to my eyes this morning! Happy Mothers Day Laura!
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Happy Mothers Day!
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