Skip to main content

Everest in high heeled boots

Something happened to me at a party (yes I know I was at an actual party) the other weekend I can't stop thinking about. As the night and the open bar wore on two separate women came up to me at separate times and confessed a couple of things about how they felt inferior as moms. We both were standing on the balcony, cocktails in hand, wearing ridiculously high heeled boots shifting from one foot to another. All I could think about as I began to chat with this woman is I cannot stand another single second in these shoes. My feet are literally breaking as she is talking to me. Then she snapped my mind only for a second out of my foot loathing to say, "I am admitting to you - because you seem like the type who won't judge me - I feed my 7 month old food from a jar and I supplement him with formula." She stopped and looked at me like she had just confessed she actually is involved in the mob or a fugitive heading to Mexico. I told her, "Can we please just sit down at that table right next to us because my feet are killing me."

We sat down. Looked at our shoes - admired how damn sexy they are and how much we hate them at the same time. And then as the throbbing pain eased in our feet I wondered when we started to be so hard on ourselves as mothers and on other mothers. I decided then and there I would no longer continue to stand next to this sister and not acknowledge our feet were both killing us and make small talk about the view or the beautiful remodel and how yummy the signature cocktail was. Let's sit down together and acknowledge the hard. 

She told me about her struggles with fertility, her struggles with nursing, and then her struggle to have the energy to keep up with the pressure to make her baby's food fresh and organic. Like she was failing as a woman. How exhausting it was to attend these playgroups where mothers one upped each other and surveyed which outfits the babies were wearing, competed with nap schedules, and debated introducing pureed sweet potatoes or yams. Maybe because I have found an amazing community of women, or maybe because I give off the impression that I don't care about these things and those moms want to squirt a whole bottle of Purell in my general direction, or maybe I have just graduated to new competitions like birthday parties, teacher appreciation gifts, and summer camps. We hugged a few times and cried. It was an experience I will never forget. 

Anyway - I just wanted to say to all you newish moms out there - it's hard to be a mom. You are doing a great job. Everyone enters this journey differently - through IVF, accidental pregnancy, or even after a few miscarriages. Some of your babies were born naturally, some via C section. Some of us were able to breastfeed for an entire year. Some never. Some for 6 months. This has zero reflection on who you are as a woman and as a mother. 

I watched the movie Everest with my husband last night and one of the guides tells Jake Gyllenhaal's character, "We can't compete with each other as guides. We don't need competition among the humans. The mountain has the final say and is competition enough." I couldn't help but think of motherhood. We don't need competition among ourselves as mothers - life has the final say and our kids are competition enough. Being a parent is similar to climbing Mt. Everest - don't you think? I don't know if I'll make it out alive. And I don't have the energy or the oxygen to compete with my fellow climbers. But if I'm in a spot where I'm able, I share my extra bottle of O and ask if you'll sit down with me because my feet are killing me. But you won't ever catch me actually taking off my shoes before the end of the party.

Comments

  1. Love this post Dana! Everyone cries in their high heeled boots sometimes! Keep rocking it. <3.
    -Nykole

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Why I'm not moving to Canada and I hope you don't either

Dear fellow Americans,

Yesterday I woke up singing "sister suffragette" with misty eyes.

 "Cast off the shackles of yesterday
 shoulder to shoulder -
into the fray!"

Not because I love Hillary Clinton. Because of the historical significance that she was even on the ballot. That the idea a woman could run for president won't be a fairy tale to my children. As I sat on the brown corduroy couch in my predictably blue state I watched state after state shock the news as it came up bright red.

Friends, history is alive right now. We are the American people and the generation experiencing this shift in paradigm today. How are we going to respond?

Susan B. Anthony's grave was covered with women's "I voted" stickers yesterday.
 I don't think Susan B. Anthony would leave the country if she was alive today.
Did she leave the country or threaten to when she was arrested for illegal voting?

Did Rosa Parks try to leave the country after she faced Jim Cr…

The Mom Grinch

The other day I was feeling especially grinchy. Standing in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher for the tenth time that day, it dawned on me Christmas is only for children...and men. A feeling of bitterness, exhaustion and pressure crept over me as I crammed another sippy cup into the cupboard. It's up to me - the mom - to pull off Christmas. And since my kids are 2 and 4 - well it had better be magical. I wasn't exactly feeling magical. You know, the whole family, just yesterday were in the throws of the stomach flu and I'm pretty sure our elf, Sandy, brought it from the north pole and infected us all with his obnoxious Christmas germs.

So here I am mad at Christmas, because I've discovered December is a month of the year where moms need to put it in overdrive. The normal day to day doesn't go away. Now, I've got to decorate, move that elf, shop, bake cookies, design, address and mail Christmas cards, see Santa... I began to feel even more rotten. Then I utte…

Dear tired and hurting mamas...

Dear Mamas,


For me this is the Monday morning of spring break. For you it may just be another Monday and you may be completely not affected by school schedules yet. What if this week we had a choice?  A choice to let love be the loudest voice. Ultimately, we are really the ones who decide whether or not we are going to thrive in motherhood rather than merely surviving. It may not seem like that when love is not the loudest voice. When all the other crap weighs us down. When are not only desperately physically and emotionally needed constantly by our children but at the same time are attacked by the negativity of our mind. When we are so physically tired but then are not being kind to ourselves. Comparing ourselves to other moms in a negative way. Thinking other moms are better than us or that we are in adequate. We must try harder. Or how about worrying that something terrible will happen to our children unless we are completely aware and prepared for any situation? Or some of us may …