The Market Value of Motherhood

A friend called with a job lead last week. It should be just perfect for me, he said. I'd be able to work from home, doing interesting work for which I would be paid very well.

Sounds great except for one teeny-tiny thing. I have a job, educating and raising my four children. This job involves a lot of shopping, cooking, and housework. It also involves a lot of time spent with various children, helping them learn all the things they need and want to know.

I don't get paid for this work. No one is interested in seeing this work on a resume. Most people seem to think that an imbecile could do this job with one arm tied behind her back.

And, y'know, a lot of it is just grunt work. It doesn't take a genius to chop vegetables, mop the floor, or remind the kids to practice their piano. If I want to do it well, though, it takes so much more than that. What does each child need, to bring out the best? How do I help this child learn how to handle this difficult personality trait? How do I teach them values like compassion, fairness, and a good work ethic? How do I teach them to balance their lives, take care of their bodies, and create good lives for themselves? What will it take to help them become happy, healthy, productive adults?

When I was new to parenting, I focused on learning to be a good mother. I read parenting books, hung out on parenting mailing lists, attended mothers' groups, and spent time with mothering mentors. In those days, I believed strongly that parenting was important work, worth doing well.

These past several years, I've moved with a different crowd. I've spent time with people whose children are grown and spent seven months working fulltime for a high tech company. During this time, I found that I had devalued mothering once again. Mothering no longer seemed like work that ought to take so much time and thought.

After quitting my job, it's taken me three months to get my household back together. The kids are, if anything, taking a little longer. I'm groping my way blindly back to a place where I believe parenting is important work, a place where I can value the work I'm doing.

My time at work showed clearly how much parenting my kids need, and what it costs them not to get it. The marketplace, however, says that the value of my work is 0.

Women face this question all the time: do the unpaid work that will lead to well-adjusted adults in the next generation or do the job that yields a paycheck and looks good on your resume?

So I'll consider the job, but I'll try to remember the value of the one I'm doing now.

Stringing Summer Days Like Pearls

We're in the full swing of summer now, that time when one gorgeously perfect day slips into another. My intense spate of floor rejuvenating and furniture rearranging is over. Garry has finished handling his father's estate. Morgayn's completed her summer Spanish course. It's time to relax and enjoy life.

Another reason to celebrate is that our dear house cleaner Gilly is working for us again. Gilly's had a rough year, working as a nurse and helping to take care of her terminally ill brother, and so we've been doing all the cleaning ourselves. Or, as was often the case, not doing it. We'd just decided to bite the bullet and hire a different cleaner when Gilly called to tell us that she wanted to work for us again. We were all glad to see her. The house sparkled for all of ten minutes after she finished, giving me the momentary illusion of having it all together.

I need these sparkling-house moments, just like I need the moments of peace, contentment, intimacy, laugher, and perfect harmony with my kids. The raven in my heart collects these moments and arranges them in her nest so they can sparkle in the light.

Our friend Charles had his annual pool party. We had a good time chatting with his sisters and their kids. Charles' pool has a low diving board, and Remus John plucked up the courage to try it:




Malcolm's a natural on the diving board, too.




The boys spend hours every day out in the yard, pacing around with sticks and talking ninety miles a minute. I've tried photographing them, but I never manage to capture their energy and intensity.

We're in stage one of a drought. Matisse has taken on the job of collecting bath water for the garden. She's convinced her siblings to leave the water after their baths and showers. She then buckets it outside to the flowers.

It hasn't been very hot this summer, but it's been warm enough for us to operate our green air conditioning. We open up the windows in the evening when the outside temperature dips below the inside temperature and close them in the morning when it gets hotter outside than in.

Garry's been having trouble with clogged ears. Among the things that he's tried have been ear candles. This amused me so much that I had to share:

Nevada Trek

July 4th was blazing hot. Garry, the boys, and I spent the afternoon at the swimming pool. Malcolm spent most of the afternoon jumping off the diving board. He learned how to do cannon balls and enjoyed making huge splashes. Remus John tried to pluck up his courage to try the diving board, but he didn't quite manage it. He did jump off the side of the pool in the 9' area at lot, though.

Early Thursday morning, Remus John, Garry, and Sombrito set off for Garry's father's land in Nevada. They were clearing out an old storage trailer and getting the land ready to sell.




Sombrito spent his time at his old home romping with neighbor dogs and lying in the dust.

Remus John took some time out from the clean up chores to tour a mine and climb a juniper.




Garry packed up the stuff he wanted in a U-haul trailer and drove it home in one long, slow day.




Remus John's favorite thing in Nevada was the alligator lizard he befriended.




We didn't expect Garry and Remus John until tomorrow night. Last night at 11:30, Matisse came in and said, "Either I'm going crazy or I just heard Remus John's voice outside."

The security light went on then and we heard footsteps on the stairs to the front door. A dusty man, a very dirty boy, and a dog who looked like he'd been taking dust baths came in the door.

I got Remus John sponged off and into his pajamas, whereupon he climbed into bed with Malcolm so they could read and talk together.




There's no place like home.

Prometheus Strikes Again

After a month without a stove, the most miraculous thing happened. A large white object that has been sitting in the kitchen suddenly moved into the hole left by the old stove and started spouting flames. When you turn a little knob, there's a little click-click-click sound and then a ring of fire appears. These rings of fire are well-behaved and will tolerate having kettles and cooking pots placed over them, whereupon the contents get hot and there is great rejoicing.




One of these rings of fire is special. When you turn its knob, first a small ring of fire appears in the center, and then two more appear around the first. These three concentric rings of fire can produce a lot of heat or a very little. They look like they might be quite useful for sauteing, browning, and the making of pancakes.

We were in wonder at this miracle, and explored further. Beneath the rings of fire, there is a box with racks. This box can also become quite hot. We experimented by placing some pizza in the box, and it became beautifully hot and evenly bubbly without burning.

This morning, I summoned fire under one of the rings, placed the kettle on it, and produced enough hot water for a pot of tea and two cups of cocoa besides.

Malcolm calls this miraculous device "a working stove." I suppose that we shall all get over the wonder of its feats and likewise call it merely "stove." Or perhaps we shall call it by its proper name: Jenn-Air. But we shall likely not call it by its personal name: JGS9900BDF.

Driving to aerobics yesterday, I realized that I am embarking on a new relationship. I chose the previous stove in the flush of kitchen remodeling. I was young, I fell in love, and the
Thermador had everything I'd ever dreamed of in a stove. It cooked beautifully. Its burners could be adjusted with pinpoint accuracy. Its oven baked evenly. I came to know all its features and
quirks.

This new stove I chose because we needed a 30" slide-in range with a downdraft. There wasn't a lot of choice, and so I didn't pay a lot of attention to available features. It's a stove-of-convenience.


Malcolm's new bed

Meanwhile, the new beds, lag bolts snugly wrenched into place, had been made up with the boys' chosen sheets and comforters.


Remus John's new bed

And the creativity room has now become the boys' bedroom.

Hard Hat Zone

On Wednesday, I completely cleared and cleaned the creativity room. The boys' new beds were going to be delivered on Thursday. I also re-sealed the hardwood floor in that room so that it would all be shiny new for the boys.

While we were waiting for the delivery, we went about our normal activities. The children did their schoolwork and piano practice.


Malcolm with his weapons of math instruction

Remus John has become very interested in answering the telephone. He's been practicing his telephone etiquette so that we'll let him answer the real phone.


Yup, this is the Cowboy Diner

After the beds arrived, Matisse and I joined forces to put them together. They're held together with 16 four-inch lag bolts. One of us held the rails while the other one wielded the wrench.


Construction worker Matisse

The two stoves were still hanging out in the kitchen. The new stove was to be installed on Thursday afternoon. In the background, you can see all the stuff needed to put the beds together.


The construction zone

Meanwhile, there were still about 10 more lag bolts to go.


Wrenching

30 pounds

I'm celebrating having lost 30 pounds over the past 7 months.


Me, today, holding 2 15-pound weights

I read today that Michael Moore has also lost 30 pounds. More power to him. More power to me. He'll get down to where I started and I'll get down to where I want to be. There are many more pounds to go before we get there.

To give myself a better idea of how my body has changed, I've thought of those 30 pounds in a lot of different ways.

I like to visualize fat in terms of pounds of butter. Here's what 30 pounds of butter looks like on display in the refrigerator section of the grocery store:


32 pounds of butter

And here's another way to look at what I'm not lugging around any more:


30 pounds of potatoes

I'm not slowing myself down by toting the weight of 6 bags of flour all the time:


30 pounds of flour

And I'm not lugging around the weight in this much water:


30 pints of water

A pint is a pound the world around.

In order to lose these 30 pounds, I had to cut or burn 105,000 calories, which is about the number of calories in 62 pounds of sugar:


My calorie deficit, measured in sugar

When I first thought about doing this photo essay to celebrate my weight loss, I imagined that I would use things around the house to illustrate the surplus avoirdupois that I'd dropped. When I decided to use sugar to represent the calories I've burnt, however, I realized that I needed a different strategy.

Thanks to Ben Lomond Market for the foods used in these shots. A couple of employees looked at me twice when they saw me arranging the stock and photographing it, but no one said anything.

Midsummer Night Boy

Remus John turned 8 last Thursday. To celebrate, he wanted to go swimming. We've been going to free swim right before his swimming lessons on Thursday, and that was enough celebration for him.




At the pool, he's always in motion, swimming from one side to the other, climbing out and diving back in.




He reminded everyone he met that is was the summer solstice in addition to being his birthday. He was a midsummer night baby, and he's grown into a midsummer night boy.

At home, this was what I had to bake a cake in:




We have two stoves sitting in the kitchen. After the new one arrived, we pulled the old one out of the stove spot. Unfortunately, the new stove arrived without the liquid propane conversion kit, so we have to wait for Maytag/Jennair to ship it to us before we can install it.




Two stoves in the kitchen, and we're still not cooking.

This led to the first-ever store-bought birthday cake for a Madrone child. We ordered a chocolate fudge cake from the local supermarket. Remus John was delighted with it and blew out the candles after a rousing chorus of John McCutcheon's birthday song:

It makes me think of the good old days.
Happy birthday to you!
You sure grew out of your baby ways.
Happy birthday to you!
8th birthday and we wish you many more.
Health and wealth and friends by the score.
Cut the cake and we'll have some more.
Happy birthday to you!

He did have a very happy birthday. He and Malcolm have simple expectations for birthdays and holidays. They seem happy with a cake and a few presents and a trip to the park or the beach or even their weekly swimming lessons.

And what did the solstice boy want for his birthday? New t-shirts. He also got some books, a watercolor painting kit, and a magic set, but he likes the t-shirts best of all.