Life Without Baby

filling the silence in the motherhood discussion

Billie Jean King

By Kathleen Guthrie

I was seven years old in 1973 when Billie Jean King beat the socks off Bobby Riggs in the infamous “Battle of the Sexes” tennis match. Riggs, a Wimbledon singles champion, had described himself as a male chauvinist pig who whole-heartedly opposed feminism. As proof, he once said, “If a woman wants to get in the headlines, she should have quintuplets.” Nearly 50 million people watched on television as Billie Jean showed him what true feminine power looked like: 6-4, 6-3, 6-3.

With that win—along with 12 Grand Slam titles, 16 Grand Slam women’s double titles, and 11 Grand Slam mixed doubles titles—Billie Jean led the way for girls and women to pursue sports for fun and as professionals. It was an extraordinary time in our history. With contributions from great female athletes and the 1972 passing of Title IX, which opened up school sports for girls in the U.S., suddenly, it was okay to get dirty, to be competitive, and to sweat! She may not have had children of her own, but I like to think of Billie Jean as the “mother” of all future female tennis players. We witness the fantastic athletic prowess of the Williams Sisters today in part because Billie Jean gave birth to our possibilities.

In 2009, Billie Jean was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in recognition for her work as an advocate for women’s rights and for the LGBT community. As part of the presentation, President Obama said, “This is a chance for me—and for the United States of America—to say ‘Thank you’ to some of the finest citizens of this country and of all countries.”

Thank you, Billie Jean, for being an extraordinary role model.

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She’s finding inspiration in the stories of many of our “cheroes” (heroes who are childfree) as we celebrate National Women’s History Month.

Anne Sullivan – The Miracle Worker

Helen Keller opened up the world for the blind and deaf-blind, but she couldn’t have done it without the persistence and encouragement of her teacher, Anne Sullivan.

22-year old Anne Sullivan taught Helen Keller to communicate by spelling the names of objects into the palm of her hand. Her technique formed the blueprint for teaching blind, deaf-blind, and visually impaired children, and her methods are still used today.

In a letter to her friend Sophia Hopkins, Sullivan relayed the story of her breakthrough with Helen. She wrote:

“As the cold water gushed forth […] I spelled “w-a-t-e-r” in Helen’s free hand. The word coming so close upon the sensation of cold water rushing over her hand seemed to startle her. […] A new light came into her face. She spelled “water” several times. Then she dropped on the ground and asked for its name and pointed to the pump and the trellis, and suddenly turning round she asked for my name. I spelled ‘Teacher.'”

Sullivan added a postscript to the letter:

“Last night when I got in bed, she stole into my arms of her own accord and kissed me for the first time, and I thought my heart would burst, so full was it of joy.”

Anne Sullivan never had children of her own, and yet she was able to reach through to a child lost in a dark and silent world—something the child’s own parents had been unable to do.

It Got Me Thinking…About Happily Ever After

By Kathleen Guthrie

My two oldest nieces, ages 8 and 10, recently appeared in a local theater production of Into the Woods. I saw it on Broadway 20 years ago, loved it, but had forgotten that the central story is about the Baker and his Wife and their search for items to break a curse…their curse of not being able to conceive a child. Yeah. A musical about infertility. Good times.

 

As we waited for the show to start, the gentleman sitting next to me asked which cast members I had come to see. I pointed to the girls’ names in the program, and he pointed to the name of his niece. But it wasn’t until after curtain calls, when he congratulated me on having such talented daughters, that I realized he thought I was the proud momma, not the proud aunt.

 

And this got me thinking…. Growing up, my siblings and I took turns performing on stage and in sporting events, then sitting in the audience or the bleachers to cheer for each other. My parents attended almost every event, so naturally I assumed I would one day be the mom handing out programs, running the box office, or yelling my lungs out as my kid kicked the winning goal. I was sure I would have much to be proud of. It never occurred to me that I would be denied the pleasure of hearing someone say, “She must get it from you.”

 

“I wish…,” the characters sing in the play, and I know it would be so easy to dwell on my curse. Instead, I choose to create my own version of happily ever after.

 

 

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. Her articles have appeared in AAA’s Westways, GRIT, Real Simple, and 805 Living magazines. Read “How to Be the World’s Best Aunt Ever” on eHow.com.

Expressing Motherhood – Part III

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about going to see my friend in a show called Expressing Motherhood. I wrote a post about my trepidation and facing my demons head-on, and a follow-up about my surprise reaction to the show.

Mali left this comment:  

“What a difference it would have made if the performance had […] included the story of one infertile woman. We would all have felt included then, and positive towards the performance.”

Great suggestion, I thought, so I contacted the producers, and to cut a long story short, when the show reopens in April with a new cast, yours truly will be out there flying the non-mom flag.

Ok, so I’m pretty excited about this, but I bought fresh scallops from the fishmonger today and it’s almost dinner time, so I’ll keep it brief. Just know that this won’t be the last you’ll hear about this. I’m really pleased that the producers were open to this idea and I’m nervous but excited about having a captive audience of moms to hear my story. My hope is to be able to open a few eyes and maybe get people thinking a little about their own friends and family who don’t have children. It’s going to be interesting.

So, here are the basic deets, for any of you who happen to be in the Los Angeles area and think you might be up to seeing the show:

Expressing Motherhood

Mother’s Day Show (Yup, that’s right!)

April 27, 28, 29 & 30

May 4, 5, 6 & 7

Elephant Space

6322 Santa Monica Blvd., Los Angeles

Tickets are $20 from www.Brownpapertickets.com, and if you buy on March 1 and use the code “Five” you can save $5.

I’ll keep you posted.

Toddlers in Restaurants

This article was posted on the BBC website, but I know it’s a discussion that is happening all over the place. Should parents take toddlers and babies into restaurants?

 

My feeling on this is, generally, no. And this is an opinion I formed while I was still planning on having little ones of my own.

 

Kids get hungry, cranky, and whiny. They scream at inappropriate times and they don’t like to sit still. They’re children, after all, not small adults. Taking them into a restaurant (and by restaurant, I mean somewhere that doesn’t specifically cater to kids and families) isn’t appropriate, unless you can be absolutely certain your little one knows how to behave (and I think that’s too much to ask of a three-year old) or you’re willing to interrupt your own dinner to take your child outside until he or she blows through the tantrum. I’ve seen many parents bring children to resturants and deal with them appropriately. And I’ve seen plenty who haven’t. For example, letting your antsy toddler loose to run around the tables is not only rude, it’s dangerous. Having waited tables for a living at one time, I know that it’s hard enough to keep hot food and sloshy drinks upright, without having to keep an eye open for errant toddlers.

 

I understand that parents want a social life, need to get out, deserve a night out even, but that’s what babysitters are for. And if you’re not comfortable hiring someone to take care of your child, then really, you need to stay home.

 

Having children is a big, responsible job and it comes with lots of sacrifices, not least of which is having to give up on dinner-for-two in a romantic bistro. And if you were a parent who hired a sitter so you could enjoy a quiet night out, would you appreciate having to listen to the cries of someone else’s offspring?

 

It all comes down to basic respect and consideration – something parents should be teaching their children by example.

Fast (Childfree) Meals For Busy People

Last Sunday’s San Francisco Chronicle Food and Wine section had a big feature article on “Good, fast meals for busy parents.”

Once I’d done grumbling (“Parents aren’t the only people who are busy,” and “Oh great, another mainstream publication excluding the childless and childfree”) I actually looked at the article.

A couple of the recipes were things I might actually try, but I must say, I don’t know too many kids who are going to willingly eat Pan-Seared Tofu & Kale Salad, or Sole with Cara Cara Orange, Avocado and Red Onion Salsa!

I was recently caught in the cross-fire of a couple of mom’s exchanging recipes to feed their little ones. I chimed in with my lemon chicken recipe. It’s quick, it’s healthy, and it’s really delicious.

So it got me thinking…we are all busy women and we all need to eat, and sometimes cook for someone else. So what do you like to cook? What’s your go-to recipe for fast, healthy, tasty, and edible?

I can’t now find my Lemon Chicken recipe, but it’s so easy it goes like this:

1. Take your chicken breasts, pound them, and cut into the size of tenders and soak them in lemon juice for an hour in the fridge.

2. Mix breadcrumbs (I like panko) with salt, pepper, and dried herbs, parsley and/or basil.

3. Dip your chicken into melted butter or olive oil, then into the breadcrumbs, and put them on a baking sheet.

4. Bake at 450 for about 20-25 mins.

Really easy, quick, and delish. J

Advice for “30 and Childless”

I came across this question on Yahoo Answers recently: “How rare is it to be childless at 30 years old?”

In my world, it’s not rare at all. Thinking back to when I was 30, very few of my friends had children. When I was 30, I wasn’t ready to have children, never mind the fact that I hadn’t found anyone responsible enough to have them with! So, my answer to this woman is, “Don’t worry about. Just live your life!”

And yet…

When I was 30 I had no idea that my fertility was already in decline, and I hadn’t yet seen the freefall that happens on the fertility rate chart when a woman hits 35. Given my own experience with trying to conceive in my 30’s, it makes me want to offer this woman some of my hard-earned wisdom.

But what would I tell her? Don’t wait too long? If you think you might want children someday, consider freezing your eggs now? Think about your long-term goals and priorities? Find a man and hurry up?

Blach! Of course not! When I was 30 I would have rolled my eyes at this advice, too – probably did, in fact. And who am I to tell this woman that life isn’t as straight-forward as it’s cracked up to be? Who am I to tell her she needs to hurry up and take on the responsibility of being a parent?

I was happy being childless when I was 30. I was unhappy being childless from 34 to 40, and now I’m looking at 41, I’m still childless, but you know what? I’m happy again. It’s called life and you can plan it until you’re blue in the face, but sometimes it just happens how it happens, and you find your way. So I won’t offer her any advice (especially as she didn’t ask for it) and I’ll just trust she’ll find her own way.

How about you? What would you tell this woman?

It Got Me Thinking…About Money

By Kathleen Guthrie

Wisegeek.com estimates the average family will spend $11,000 each year to raise a child from birth to high school graduation. Bankrate.com breaks out annual expenditures that include child care, a bigger car, a bigger home, plus $600 a year for education (a figure I know is laughable considering the costs of private schools in San Francisco). After taxes, not including the costs of a college education, Bankrate’s grand total is $190,528.

This is a ginormous amount of money.

$190,528 equals 19 cycling tours around Tuscany for me and my fiancé or 1,524 dinners at our favorite French bistro or 15,877 visits to the corner coffee shop for mochas and croissants.

Now I know $190,528 is not going to drop out of the heavens and into my bank account, but if I had kids, I would “find” that money. Wouldn’t you? I would work an extra job, streamline my holiday shopping list, cut back on nonessentials, become more diligent about investing. And this got me thinking about what I’m doing—or not doing—with my childfree money.

Instead of funding participation in the soccer league, I could be learning how to sail. Instead of supporting an 8th grade class trip to Washington DC over spring break, I could be planning my own off-season visit to the Smithsonian. Instead of covering room, board, tuition, and pizza, I could return to college for an advanced degree in art history or learn how to play the ukulele, make sushi, and become fluent in Italian.

Kind of fun to think about the possibilities, isn’t it?

Kathleen Guthrie is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is learning to embrace her childfree status.

Whiny Wednesday: Facebook (again)

Last night I didn’t feel like writing a post for this morning. The weather turned chilly again (and no, my east coast friends, I am not whining that it was only 60 degrees yesterday, merely commenting) so I lit a fire and pulled my chair up to it. I got out my laptop and thought about writing, but quickly drifted onto Facebook, which spiraled into a connect-the-dots search of all the names and faces I thought I’d forgotten.

 

For all its pitfalls (endless baby photos, gushing stories of kids’ antics) I find Facebook fascinating. It’s the ultimate voyeuristic thrill. I get to peer into the lives of people I once knew, without having to actually reignite whatever relationship might once have existed. And yes, as the dorky kid in high school, I get a certain satisfaction from seeing that some of the prettiest, coolest, most popular kids never amounted to much after all, and that the people I find most interesting now are some of the ones who had the toughest time in school. My nerdy friend, who never had a girlfriend, became an award-winning documentary filmmaker and travels the world with his beautiful partner; my friend from preschool who turned Goth, became a brilliant artist; and the weirdest kid in school became a theatre actor and someone I’d enjoy being friends with now. Life is a funny old thing and you can’t predict which way it’s going to go.

 

The one thing that does give me the willies on Facebook, is seeing some of those former classmates with kids. The guy with the cruel streak, the pot head, the former heart throb destined for fame and fortune – all grinning from the entrance of Disney World with their wives and numerous offspring. These are people who weren’t responsible enough to take care of a pencil, let alone another human being. But there they are, being parents.

 

And I’m also surprised at the number of people I knew in school who don’t have kids and I can’t help but wonder why. Was it by choice or do we have more in common now than we ever did back then.

 

So, it’s more of a Reflective Wednesday for me, but as that doesn’t have the same ring to it as Whiny Wednesday, I’m opening the floor to you.

Well-Behaved Women

I’ve been going through a bit of a renaissance recently. I’ve dropped a few pounds and been exercising fairly regularly, things are going well in general, and I’ve found myself with a new shot of self-confidence.

This has resulted in my buying a pair of kick-ass red boots, chopping off my hair into a funky little bob, and adding rocket red streaks to the front. I’ve also been digging around in the back of my closet (and the Goodwill bag I recently filled) and experimenting with putting together some old favorite clothes in new ways – interesting tops over summer dresses over leggings, with the aforementioned funky boots. I’m having fun and enjoying letting the new me out in public.

After seeing the Expressing Motherhood show, it occurred to me how different this experience would be if I had children, in particular teenage daughters. Imagine: “Mom! (shriek!) You’re not going out in THAT are you?!” or, “Oh, Mother, what HAVE you done to your hair?” or that old chestnut, “Mom, don’t you think you’re a bit OLD to dress that way?”

Oh, the humiliation, not just for the teenage daughter, but for me, for being pointed out as mutton dressed as lamb, or for just being an embarrassment. Because moms are expected to behave a certain way, to dress a certain way, to be respectable and good role models for their daughters. (I realize that many aren’t and several come to mind, but being good is what they’re supposed to do.)

Laurel Thatcher Ulrich has a wonderful quote that has made its way into popular culture lately. She said, “Well-behaved women seldom make history.” I’m not exactly planning on making it into the history books for my misbehaving, but I’m enjoying the freedom of having no one to embarrass but myself.