Now We're Talking

Last Friday, I wrote a post about Judith Warner's latest Domestic Disturbances piece wherein Warner provocatively posits that there is a dangerous resentment toward affluent and educated women brewing in our contemporary society. Though her words sparked a storm of criticism among many readers, those same words struck something in me. I was moved to do something I am actually very bad at doing -- to write a thank you note. To be honest, the note wrote itself. I just sat there, rattled, impassioned, pounding the keyboard. And when I posted said note on the NYT and then later on here on ILI, I felt a familiar breed of nausea. Immediately, I worried that I had gone too far, said something it was not my place to say. That perhaps I should have just ingested Warner's words, mulled them over, and then moved on.

The temporary existential unease, the fleeting fire of regret, was well worth it. Within hours of posting my thoughts on the matter, I had a few comments from fellow bloggers who applauded me for saying something, for starting - or rather continuing - an important and necessary conversation. And then yesterday, these compatriots continued the discussion, each on her own blog.

Lindsey of A Design So Vast bemoans our inclination to judge others based on appearance, on external qualities. She writes, "It is impossible to know, from how someone looks on the surface, what is going on inside his or her heart. I have learned enough in my life to know that with absolute certainty." And she is on to something, isn't she? Because this is what affluence and education are - superficial, surface markers of an individual that often reflect poorly what is going on internally. Thankfully, Lindsey is another curious soul who refuses to remain quiet because of her arguably fortunate life. She states, "I will not be muzzled; I believe there is too much to be gained by telling our stories, whoever we are and whatever formal education we have."

Lindsey's classmate Mama of The Elmo Wallpaper highlights an interesting and overlooked feature of the Montana mom saga, namely that this woman was so overwhelmed that her judgment was possibly compromised. Being overwhelmed, stretched thin, drained are phenomena to which all of us mothers can surely relate, regardless of pedigree or paycheck. Mama makes a number of stellar points, her arguments rooted in her own experience as "one damn lucky woman" and concludes, "An education or a privileged background doesn't guarantee us anything, and everyone has a story to tell."

I want to thank these two women, these Cheerio Compatriots, whom I've never met in real life. Yes, because they linked to me. But more because they are keeping this conversation, this fundamentally important, albeit incendiary, conversation, going. Because they are telling their stories. Yesterday was a good day; I read their words, their ideas, and through the screen their conviction was pure and palpable. I felt a surge of old school academic adrenaline and nodded and said to myself, Now we're talking.

Let's not stop now.

Domestically Disturbed

This morning, I sat on the hardwood floor between Toddler and Baby, brokering peace negotiations between the pajama-clad girls who are many long months away from receiving their Masters in Sharing. Mission accomplished. Within a few moments, Toddler was playing with her Mama Tape Measure and Baby was playing with her Baby Tape Measure. And I had a few fleeting, but delicious moments to go online before Baby pulled up on my back and yanked out a massive fistful of my hair. Maybe she wanted me to get off my computer. Or, maybe she's envious because she's bald.

Anyway, before snapping my laptop shut and giving my girls the absolute, unmarred attention they deserve, I was able to read this article. It's the latest entry in Judith Warner's NYT blog Domestic Disturbances. And I was sufficiently disturbed (in the best possible way) to forgo that much-needed shower and read it over a few times, read all of the comments it elicited, and then write my own comment. In that little comment box, I wrote one of my Insecurely Yours letters. I thanked Judith for her brave words, for speaking up, for defending those of us here on ILI and beyond who are educated and interested and insecure. If you are curious, you can read my letter below.

Now, off to analyze my infant-induced hair loss and take that much-needed shower. In case you are interested, while I am showering, I will be giving myself a very articulate pep-talk to prepare myself for the attacks I fear are headed my way. And if there is time left over, I will contemplate the symbolism of those tape measure "toys" with which my girls love to play. Cheerio.

Dear Judith,

Thank you. For daring to lift that proverbial lid on our society’s simmering stew of resentment of women with “major educations,” of women who are intellectually-curious and interested, of women who are unwilling to stay mum behind a lipstick smile just because their lives are charmed in some way.

In writing this post and triggering the comments that precede mine - many of which are unnecessarily snarky and collectively serve as a prime example of the very resentment you explore — you cast a light on profound and provocative topics of education and wealth and social perceptions. Many of your readers are missing the point here - and maybe willfully so. Patently, your article is not about the law of child endangerment, or what it means to be a responsible mother. Nor is your article truly about this one woman, a professor in Montana.

Rather, your article (bravely) points to an arguably wider phenomenon, namely our culture’s apparent desire to put a muzzle on women who are affluent and educated. There does seem to be a belief that because these women enjoy noteworthy privileges of elite educations and financial freedom, they should keep quiet. Often, it seems that acceptable stories - of struggle, of adversity, of that enigmatic “real world” that we all live in — can only be voiced by members of the more “normal” species of women. I recently started a blog called Ivy League Insecurities in an effort to give these women a voice, to combat the societal message to stay mum and enjoy my “good” life and I have been criticized and - shocker - told to keep quiet, that my story is not a story worth hearing, that my insecurities are inauthentic because of my objectively “privileged” life.

So as one of the well-educated women you write about who is simply unwilling to stay mute, I applaud you for writing this and for welcoming and weathering the very predictable and revealing maelstrom it has triggered.

Insecurely yours,

Aidan Donnelley Rowley

Dear Danielle LaPorte

Dear Danielle (White Hot Truth teller),

Thank you. For listening to me ramble. For encouraging this riled-up rookie about the possibilities that are endless as long as you dare to dream. For introducing me to two brilliant women Gretchen Rubin and Kelly Hoey, with whom I hope to spend time and trade ideas going forward.

For too long, I thought women were essentially catty creatures because I was one of them. But now, I realize that there is true camaraderie to be enjoyed and support to be gained.

Your words inspire and enlighten. Your dreadlocks remind us that you are not business as usual. Your website is a constant source of nourishment for the soul, that enigmatic item too many of us sell, or ignore, or forget.

I can't wait for your next book. Please come start some metaphorical fires here in NYC!

Insecurely yours,

Aidan

A Fellow SASM (Stay-at-Starbucks-Mom)

I have bloggerflies. A veritable cyber-crush. She speaks my language. She gets me. She is me.

Okay, the brunette, Southern, suburban, badass, much cooler, me.

But like me, she writes and blogs and has two young kids and does shifts at Starbucks.

Her name is Lindsay Ferrier. I just stumbled upon her stellar and profoundly provocative blog Suburban Turmoil and I encourage you to check it and her out. You can thank me later.

In her post In Defense of the Work-at-Home-Mom, Ferrier examines that war that continues to rage among the various species of mothers out there. In particular, she explores a contemporary attack on the WAHM, and offers a compelling and pointed and right-on account of why we all need to reexamine and broaden our definition of "work," how there are infinite and infinitely good ways to raise kids and carve out careers (and to balance the two) and how we need to call a cease-fire in this relentless and most-unnecessary battle. A nasty battle that ultimately says more about levels of personal happiness and bitterness than it does about perfect parenting and what counts as work.

This SASM is signing off (from Starbucks of course!) to write her new crush a love letter. No joke. If you're lucky, I'll let you read it...

In the meantime, I want to hear from you. Do you judge mothers who work from home? Do you judge mothers who work outside of the home? Do you judge mothers who don't work? (That's a trick question! All mothers work.) Why do you think we are so quick to judge each other's decisions? My hunch: we judge other's paths because we are deeply insecure about our own. It's all about those insecurities, baby.

Simply Brilliant (& Scary)

Do you want to become a better you?

I know. I know. This question might make you shiver or cringe or roll your eyes. But answer it anyway.

Most questions do not have right answers. But this one does. The answer: YES.

If you do not answer this simple question in the affirmative, you are either (1) delusional (because you think you are the most perfect you); or (2) lazy (because you don't want to bother).

But the biggest question is HOW. How do we become better versions of our perfectly imperfect selves? Leave it to the ever-wise Danielle LaPorte over at White Hot Truth to take a crack at this one. LaPorte offers 11 Slightly Scary Ways to Become a Better You and they are well-worth checking out. A few of my favorites involve standing in front of a mirror naked, underachieving, and saying no. My least favorite? Choosing silence. We all know how I feel about silence.

What do you think about this eleven step program for personal betterment? Have any scintillating, but scary steps to add to the list?

If You're Happy and You Know It...

You would think I could get over the whole graduation thing.  Yes, it was a delightful weekend, but I am home now, swimming once more in a spit-up-seasoned sea of baby toys and diapers.  Miles from New Haven and college life and commencement.  But no.

Another thing that Yale Law dean Harold Koh said, other than eloquently encouraging us to be big trees in the forest of life?  He said (something like): Pursue happiness.  The right to happiness is an inalienable right. You can't sell it. Do not let anything -- the mortgage, the BMW payments, even children -- trap you in a job you don't like.

And, sitting there, anonymously, behind my obnoxiously vast Oliver Peoples shades, a Yale grad, a lawyer of latter day, a rookie writer, a young mom, a perpetually lost soul hungry for morsels of wisdom, I nodded.  Vigorously. 

Happiness. That's it. That's what matters in life.  

But mere moments later, I thought to myself: What is happiness? How can we pursue it if we don't know what it is?

And then, because I have quite the non-linear attention span, I flashed to one of Toddler's Free To Be Under 3 classes where the teacher always leads a riveting rendition of that classic song If You're Happy and You Know It.  Come on. You don't have to have kids to remember this one. If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands! (And then there are a bevy of other verses involving stomping feet and tapping heads and air kisses and shouts of hooray.) Anyway, the point is that all of us parents and kiddies sing along each week: If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands!  And, sure enough, all the tiny tots clap their tiny hands. They don't even have to think about it.  Imagine that.

And suddenly, I imagined a room full of adults and what they would do with these simple melodic instructions.  And something tells me a few people would probably clap proudly and a bit insistently.  And then a few would probably not clap.  And then a few of us (maybe most of us?) would clap softly or apathetically or uncertainly.  Because this is not an easy question, is it?  In fact, if we are being technical, it is two questions:

(1) Are you happy?

and 

(2) Do you know it?

Patently, each of these questions is a biggie and has kept philosophers and other thinkers and regular people like the rest of us baffled and busy for centuries.  But that doesn't mean we shouldn't ask these questions and try to answer them. But how many of us are brave enough to ask these deceptively simple, childhood questions?

One such brave soul? Fellow Yalie/lawyer/Manhattan mom/writer Gretchen Rubin. Rubin is currently at work on her book THE HAPPINESS PROJECT a memoir of the year she spent "test-driving" tips and theories of happiness from the pedestrian to the profound to the philosophical.  Not only did Rubin press pause on her fast-track life to explore the enigmatic and idiosyncratic concept of human happiness, but she generously documents her experience and findings on her intriguing and insightful daily blog.

So.  Are you happy.  And, if so, do you know it?

Not sure?  I'm right there with you.  But I encourage you to check out Rubin's blog because while soaking up her sage musings, it occurred to me in a mini light-bulb moment that this blog you are reading might be my very own (and very accidental) happiness project.  That hammering away on my keyboard, spewing bits silly and serious and somewhere in between, that fashioning a new sense of authenticity in my own little world, is in fact making me a happier person. Whatever that means.  So maybe blogging is what it will take to get me clapping loudly and proudly?

What will it take to get you clapping?  Because as much as we might want to endorse and live by Koh's astute advice to cling tight to our right to happiness, to pursue happiness full-force, we cannot pursue something we can't recognize, can we?

Chew on This

What if... instead of torturing ourselves with that ever-expanding check list of things we need/want to do, things we are convinced will make us happier creatures, we just relaxed our expectations?  What if we pressed pause for a moment and realized that maybe, just maybe, we might be fine with what we have. Hmmm... Novel concept worth chewing on. Check out Judith Warner's honest and humorous treatment of this "culture-clashing, anachronistic, out-of-this-world concept," namely the notion that we should  "know [our] limits" in her  Not-So-Great Expectations over at NYT's Domestic Disturbances.  What do you think? 

Need A Laugh?

Another Monday.  And, yes, intellectually, we all know that the week will pass.  Day by day.  Just as it always does.  But whether we are gulping coffee to make it through the afternoon, or plugging away at our desk, or wrangling the kids, or waiting for that baby to pop, it is high time for a good laugh. We can always use a reminder of the exquisitely silly amidst the feverishly serious. 

So, if you are game for a good Monday afternoon chuckle (and who isn't?), check out The Elmo Wallpaper and see just why swim diapers are worth every penny.

I Don't Know

How often do you think or utter these three words?  Me: all the time.  Just today, this lackluster trio has crept into my consciousness and vocabulary more times than I can count.

What do I want for breakfast? I don't know.

How should Husband and I spend the morning with the girls? I don't know.

Is it going to rain? I don't know.

Should I stop blogging on weekends? I don't know.

Should we introduce carrots or sweet potatoes to Baby? I don't know.

Will our apartment ever sell in this market? I don't know, but not looking good.

What's a good baby gift? I don't know.

Now, I've always quite liked these words.  Why?  Because they are simple and honest.  Because I've always been a bit suspicious of overly decisive friends.  (For instance one of my best friends from law school who declared a mere 24 hours into our first year that she wanted to practice patent law.)  So, I guess I've always had an affinity for people who are honest enough to admit that, well, they don't quite know.  Because who does?

But there is another side to this.  Zen Habits contributor Jonathan Mead asks:  Are These Three Words Ruining Your Life? In this intriguing article, Mead suggests that so many of us are problematically paralyzed, or paralyzing ourselves, because we don't know exactly what to do or what we want to do.  Sound familiar?  You bet.  He says, "If you’re not doing something you love or at least like for a living, you’re selling yourself short. And I bet the reason why you’re not pursuing something better is because you don’t know what you’d rather do."  I know that I have heard countless friends express this very sentiment.  I know that I have felt this way many times in my life.  In short, Mead urges to plow forward in life, to do before knowing.

White Hot Truth purveyor Danielle LaPorte proffers similar words of wisdom in her recent piece The "I Don't Know" Conspiracy wherein she states that "confusion is a marvelous, magical place" and that we should swap out those three words (which she deems the "Tough spot, painful circumstance, official dilemma. A total jam") for "I'll figure this out."  And LaPorte never suggests that the figuring out part will be easy street.  No, she says that this "may mean waiting quietly, even for a long time, on the will of heaven. It may mean turning over every single stone without rest until you find the answer or the escape hatch. It may mean praying til you sweat, surveying the experts, or forty days in the desert. But one thing's for sure, if you declare that you'll figure it out, the possibilities are endless."

No, we are not going to exorcise indecision from our life.  That's neither possible nor desirable.  And there is a vast difference between indecision over the mundane and indecision over the meaningful. But for those of us planners and plotters, part-time or full-time control freaks, it seems that both Mead and LaPorte agree that there is something to be gained by surrendering our instinct to know everything before doing something.  

What do you think?  Are these three words ruining our lives?  Feel free to answer: I don't know.  That's what I'm thinking!

Vancouver Veritas

Tummy trembles. Brain fuzz. That discombobulating feeling that you're not quite sure what you should be doing but you should be [doing] something to keep your act together. Anxiety. Sometimes it slips away with a few deep breaths, other times you need to beat it off with a stick or some little white pills. Naturally, we want try to get as far away from anxiety as possible - which usually just results in us being anxious about being anxious. You resist and so it persists. But what if rather than pushing it away, we actually welcomed anxiety when it showed up? What if, rather than dreading the discomfort it brings, we looked at anxiety as a delivery service of inner truth and other such soul goodies? Because every time anxiety shows up, it's our psyche's way of saying, "Knock knock, I've got something to show you about yourself that you really should see."

Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard explained anxiety is a natural condition. (How liberating!) He believed that anxiety is "a cognitive emotion that reveals truths that we would prefer to hide but that we need for our greater health." And that it's a valuable to for shaping our ideal lives. Think of it this way, beneath the butterflies in your stomach, behind the clouds in your mind – is your greater truth, and it's trying to break on through.

No, these are not my words. (Hence, the lovely purple italicized font). These are the insights of deep-thinking and fiesty Danielle LaPorte, a former think-tank exec, writer, and entrepreneurial consultant.  LaPorte, a self-proclaimed "spiritual mutt" and current Vancouver resident, has a stunning and soul-stinging website called White Hot Truth that you should check out right now.  On this site, she explores subjects that affect us all: anger, anxiety, discouragement, self-realization, truth.  Sound a bit new-agey? Perhaps.  But her (often humorous) words are an addictive mixture of profound and practical.  To see the entirety of her post Your Friend, Anxiety quoted above click here. 

Some cool things about Danielle:

• She was executive director of The Arlington Institute, a Washington, DC-based think tank for future studies where she managed futurists (she worked with The Navy, The World Bank and IBM) (No, I'm not sure exactly what a futurist, but it sounds both very intriguing and very important, no?)
• She did not go to college.  So much for needing that elite education to be a success in life.
• She has dreadlocks for no particular reason. (She just likes big hair and dreads make her feel Goddess-y.)
• She is a mom and has a white hot (and uber-creative) career.
• She thinks that anxiety is not something to run from (okay, from which to run).  Rather, it should be acknowledged, harvested, explored, and utilized.  And that is basically the premise of this newborn baby Ivy League Insecurities! (can a baby have a premise? Hmmm.)

Okay, that's it for now.  Check back soon for musings about green grass and urban isolation and April being the cruelest month (all inspired by a picturesque weekend in the 'burbs).

Happy Sunday!