filling the silence in the motherhood discussion
I just filed my taxes and once again put a big fat zero on the line for dependents.
My whine (surprisingly) isn’t that people with kids get a tax break and I don’t; it’s more to do with the IRS’s definition of “dependent.” My definition differs greatly from theirs.
That’s all I’m saying publicly on that topic, but know that I’m whining on the inside today.
It is Whiny Wednesday. What’s on your mind?
Last month I did something I’ve been thinking about for years and which signified a real and definite change in my outlook on life. I planted an asparagus bed.
For those of you who aren’t horticulturally-inclined, planting an asparagus bed is kind of a big deal. Asparagus takes up a lot of space, with tall spreading plants. The plants don’t produce edible asparagus in the first year and have to be carefully tended and consistently watered to produce crisp, delicious spears the following year. With care, the plants will continue to produce year after year, but planting a bed means dedicating a large patch of garden and making a long-term commitment, which is why I haven’t done it before and why it’s so significant to me now.
So much in my life has been uncertain for so long that I’ve found it hard to make plans for a month in advance, let alone commit to a project that will take at least a year to come to fruition and will mean an ongoing commitment of many years. Ever since my future as a mother began to look uncertain, I haven’t been able to form a clear picture of how my life might look down the road. Setting goals and making plans has felt pointless when I’ve no idea what my desired destination is anymore.
Although having a bed of homegrown asparagus isn’t exactly a fully-formed picture of my ideal life, and there is certainly a lot of fuzziness around the path my life will take now, my decision to commit to planting took forward planning and feels like the beginnings of commitment and permanence. It’s a step towards a positive future…and a very tasty future, at that.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
I’m 26 pages into my book club’s selection for the month when I discover the novel is, in part, about finding a “cure” for infertility. Is there no escape? What the fruitcake?!
Miracle babies, a mother’s love for her child, a happy ending in the form of a pregnancy. Yeah, yeah, I get that the joys, challenges, and heartbreaks of parenting are parts of life. But they aren’t part of my life. And while I acknowledge that I am possibly a wee bit oversensitive when it comes to these topics, I am also feeling over-inundated by mommy-focused stories on the news, in magazines, in movies, and all around me. When it comes to the books that I choose to read, I should be able—and allowed—to avoid them.
So I’m returning this particular book to the library and debating whether or not to attend the discussion. Meanwhile, I need some suggestions for great reads. I like adventure, mystery, and history. I love a strong female heroine and a narrative that has some humor. I can get lost in stories that include travel, cooking, interesting characters, and challenges overcome. Fiction or nonfiction, I devour both.
There are two book groups in our Life Without Baby community, and I’ve taken note of their suggestions. Check them out at LWB Book Club and Book Lovers. Now I need yours. Read any good books lately? Let me try that again: Read any good books that have nothing to do with babies or mommydom lately? If so, give us your recommendations in a comment.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree (and the irony of this post is not lost on her).
Overheard outside my local café last week:
“I have three kids and I hate all of them.”
Can someone please explain to me why this jack@$$ gets to have the privilege of being a parent when so many lovely people I know (including myself) don’t?
It’s Whiny Wednesday. What’s got you spitting nails this week?
By Maybe Lady Liz
Coming to the end of my three and a half mile torture session on the treadmill, I found a final burst of energy when what I thought was going to be an incredibly uplifting commercial came on. It was for Walt Disney World (hey, I watch soap operas – I’m just glad when it’s not a diaper commercial) and featured a mid-thirties-ish couple having a real blast by themselves. It went through a litany of things that people without kids can enjoy when thinking about planning a spontaneous trip to the Happiest Place on Earth…
No homework to check…
No school vacations to work around…
No photos with Mickey…
It finished by introducing them as “Mark and Natalie with no kids…” over an image of them looking madly in love at a romantic dinner. Just as I’m thinking, “Whoa, Disney – way to go on representing the childless and the Childfree!”, they drop their three-letter bomb:
YET.
*Sigh* I went from being totally jazzed about how such a mainstream company had the forethought to be inclusive of the 20 percent of us who don’t have kids, to being totally bummed by the realization that we’re probably a long ways away from that.
Needless to say, I hopped off the treadmill and immediately made myself a martini.
Maybe Lady Liz is blogging her way through the decision of whether to create her own Cheerio-encrusted ankle-biters, or remain Childfree. You can follow her through the ups and downs at MaybeBabyMaybeNot.com.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Last fall I shared with you that my nephew’s first grade teacher had invited aunts and uncles to be “mystery readers” for the students. (Read the original post here.) The big day has come and gone, and I wanted to tell you that it was everything I’d expected…and less.
I ended up choosing one of my favorite stories, “Atalanta” by Betty Miles. Since the book I have only has two pictures, I decided instead of reading to them, I would invite the students to act out the story with me. Together we posed like the proud king and clever princess, ran in a great race, sounded the trumpets, and cheered with the crowds. I’m not sure the feminist theme of the story got through to anyone (it’s about a princess choosing for herself who she will marry—or if she will choose to marry at all), but I think they all had fun.
I had fun. I practiced for weeks, perfecting my lines, working out character voices and sound effects, pausing for dramatic effect. My husband helped me rehearse in the car and in our living room till I had every beat memorized, because my greatest fear was that I’d get caught up in the performance, lose my place in the story, and muck it all up.
Actually that wasn’t my biggest fear. I’ve had a lot of experience with public speaking and live theater performances, so I knew I’d be fine once I got started (and I’m pretty sure I nailed every bit). What I actually feared the most was that I would be a bucket of weepy emotions. All those sweet faces looking up at me, all the innocent questions and funny comments. The rush of painful reality that I would never have a cute 6-year-old of my own with whom to share my favorite stories. I imagined getting teary-eyed in the classroom or curling up in the back seat of my car for a sob fest afterwards or going home and drowning my sorrows in a bottle of limoncello.
I was fine. One cute thing asked “Are you Jake’s mommy?” and I answered, “Nope, I’m his Aunt Kath.” That was easy.
At the end of the storytelling, I asked the students about the books they were reading, I answered questions about my dog (who so needs his own Facebook page), and then Jake invited me to walk with him to his after-school program. He reached for my hand, and together we crossed the playground. I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t feel lonely. I felt lucky. Lucky to have such a sweet boy in my life, lucky that I live nearby and can be part of his growing-up years, lucky that I have the time and opportunity to do things like be a mystery reader for him and his classmates.
I also am very lucky that Jake’s little brother will be in this class in just two years. I’m already thinking about which story I’ll share with him.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up a memoir about how her experience as a temporary single mommy to her nephew helped her make peace with her childfree status.
This week’s whine is on behalf of those of you living in places where Spring has not yet sprung.
I was sitting out in my backyard in short sleeves last weekend, but this week I’m visiting my Mum in England and am wading through ten inches of snow. Ten inches and it’s almost April! The weather has gone completely mad.
It’s Whiny Wednesday, so feel free to let loose on whatever’s bothering you this week.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
One of the great ironies of my life is that I develop, market, and advertise products and services for kids and their families. Funny, right?
The tricky part is that I sometimes worry that I might lose out on a great job because I’m not a parent and am therefore subject to the misconception that I can’t possibly know what I’m talking about. And so I play The Game.
I’ve mastered many of the skills of The Game. I dodge pointed questions about my family makeup. I deflect, I bob and weave, I jump to the next topic. I nod with understanding when colleagues moan about parenting challenges, and I speak with authority about kids and what they want. I’m certain many people assume that I have a houseful of my own. Quite the contrary, but I don’t want a potential client to dismiss me or my input because I’m deemed less experienced.
And here’s what’s interesting: I think part of the reason I am so good at my job is because I don’t have children of my own. Because I don’t have to be responsible for any little guys, I’m better able to play with them, to get down to their level, to talk as equals. I have time and energy to interact with them, to really listen to them and discover how their amazing growing brains work.
I’m always blown away when the ol’ “You don’t understand because you’re not a mom” insult is lobbed my way. It hurts like hell, and I think the person saying it is clueless. I think my unique childfree experiences make me a better auntie, a better friend to humans of all ages, and an insightful and inspired writer.
But I’m also starting to wonder if I’ve become so good at hiding behind the smoke and mirrors of The Game that I’m missing opportunities to open hearts and minds. I’m starting to think that winning will feel a whole lot better when I’m accepted and acknowledged for who I am and all that I bring to the table. I’m thinking that maybe it’s time to rewrite the rules of The Game and start over.
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is wrapping up her memoir about being a temporary single mommy and how it helped her come to terms with being childfree.
By Solo Girl
Once in a while I’ll respond to posts on Life Without Baby, and I think I often come across as bitter and angry. It’s been 4 years since the last nail in the Mommy coffin was slammed into place, and the truth is I am still bitter and angry and hurt and disillusioned about this new reality. Life Without Baby is the only place I can share those feelings, and I thank Lisa from the bottom of my soul for providing this outlet.
In my every day public existence I am smiling and moving on and enjoying the life that is left to me. I am congratulating sisters and cousins on their new pregnancies/babies and even buying them baby shower gifts. I fill my life with charity work and dogs and good friends and family that go out of their way to visit me and help me around the house. I am no longer staring at the wall, feeling my heart die in slow motion. My purpose in life was to be a Mother. Of that I am sure. With the help of women like Lisa and Savvy Auntie I am now able to go about my daily routine again and even create a new life for myself where I actually smile.
But am I thankful? Am I thankful that this is my life now? No. There is no word I resent more in the English language than ‘thankful’. Do I feel that it’s a blessing? Or worse, that ‘things happen for a reason’? I want to punch people in the face who say that. So there’s that bitterness and anger again.
For those of you just coming to terms with this reality, my heart goes out to you, and I hold out my arm for you to hold onto. You WILL get through this. You CAN smile again. And I know from women like Lisa that you will build a happy life in time. Keep reading; you will find healing words in these pages.
Solo Girl lives on her own with her 2+ dogs in Ontario, Canada. She focuses her time on volunteer work and fostering rescue dogs.
By Kathleen Guthrie Woods
Due to some unfortunate security issues, I recently had to “unfriend” several “friends” and business acquaintances from my personal Facebook page. I sent individual messages to each person to explain that this would be happening and express my hope that this wouldn’t cause any hard feelings. It wasn’t a fun process.
But, when it was all done, I found it was rather liberating. Friends-of-friends-of-friends and coworkers-of-coworkers who really had no business being in my personal business were removed, leaving me with a smaller circle of real friends, people with whom I actually want to keep in touch.
And it got me thinking about other things I’d like to unfriend. Like entertainment shows that consider having a baby newsworthy, magazines for mothers that masquerade as magazines for “women,” and books (typically classics) that feature a female character who has gone insane because she couldn’t give her husband children.
While I’m at it, I wouldn’t mind temporarily unfriending anyone who relays in great detail their baby’s smallest developments (“She pooped!”) and skipping over the royal pregnancy (I mean, congratulations and good luck to the Prince and Duchess, but spare me the nine months of “news”).
This could, of course, get out of control, and I could find myself friendless, but it has some appeal, doesn’t it? You tell me: What would you like to unfriend this week?
Kathleen Guthrie Woods is a Northern California–based freelance writer. She is mostly at peace with her childfree status.
~ "a raw, transparent account of the gut-wrenching journey of infertility."
~ "a welcome sanity check for women left to wonder how society became so fixated on motherhood."
