Ham Fried Rice

I think a terrible woman-on-woman crime is the judgment we pass upon each other as “stay-at-home” moms versus “working” moms. I wanted to clarify about my last post that I do think it’s important to have identity; that’s what I was struggling to communicate with my poem Someone. I think some would read it and gag on it, misinterpreting that the best identity in this world is a stay-at-home mother. I would never think a woman is a better or worse mother for choosing to stay at home or choosing to work. In my experience, staying at home with my children has been one of the most challenging decisions in my life. It’s a thankless job and I am someone who absolutely relishes and needs praise. However, I determined long ago that I decided to have children and therefore should ultimately be responsible for caring for them and raising them. I am fortunate enough to be in a financial position where I can stay at home. I have many friends who would give anything to be in this position. I have friends who only want to stay at home with their children. I admire them, because I don’t have their good qualities. But I have different qualities that are good, too. When my infant is school age, I will be dancing and skipping back to work with bells on my toes.

I wanted to be someone great and grand in this life

I wanted to do something everlasting

I wanted to leave an impact on this earth

And be remembered for something

The struggle that I feel within

Crying to the Lord to help me

Find my joy in a mundane life

Is inexplicably hard to bear at times

I know that I’m a mother

Isn’t that the grandest title one can hold

I know it but at times I just don’t care

Until I hold my children close to me

And see the joy in their eyes

Reflecting me

And then I realize I am

Someone.

(copyright 2008)

So of course, after thinking about the 5 Browns and the wonderful experiences they’ve had and what they’ve done with their lives, (see Casting Pearls post) I had to have my big “I’m a failure” cry. And the resulting thoughts are posted above. Ahhhh, blogging is such therapy.

Last weekend our church held its annual talent show. I performed Chopin’s Nocturne in E minor, Opus 72, No. 1. I realize this is a novice piece, which I would never deign to play for any of my classical music friends, several of whom have gone on to pursue Master’s degrees in music. (Some of my former teenage competitors are the five Brown siblings from Juillard.) But I thought this was a momentous occasion for me. As a stay-at-home mom of three, it’s rare, indeed, to steal 15 minutes away to “practice.” Gone are the days of intensive daily two hour practice sessions. Now, maybe once a month, sometimes every few months, I’ll sit down to play something, only to have my children disrupt me with various needs and requests. Regardless, I also thought it was a courageous moment, since I’ve only performed a solo two other times publicly since I quit piano lessons 15 years ago.

Back to the talent show. What an interesting experience. Refreshments were consumed and strewn all over the floors. Children were roaming all over, screaming their heads off, running around, distracting me peripherally. Of course, in their defense, it was “just” a church talent show. But I think it could have been an excellent moment for their parents to sit them down and have a cultural experience. Instead, I felt like I was performing at the county fair, casting my beloved pearls… only instead of swine, it was more like a general cattle call.

BBC America’s You Are What You Eat intrigues me. The abrasive hostess Gillian McKeith is a holistic nutritionist who works with severely obese people, attempting to change their lifestyle and eating habits in eight short weeks. She actually accosts strangers at the grocery store, telling them they could lose a few “stone.” (I don’t always understand the British English terms. What exactly is a “stone,” in terms of weight? What’s the American English equivalent? If you know, please comment or email me. Otherwise I’ll have to wikipedia this.) The narration is quite funny. Here are a few sound bites:

• Lardie Laddie
• Whale of a Woman
• Dumpy Duo
• Sofa Loafers

And all this is just in one episode. I have to say that as harsh as it sounds, it’s really quite funny when spoken in a proper British accent.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of the show is when Gillian forces her patients to examine their fecal matter. I know, it’s disgusting, and yet it’s quite fascinating. No, they don’t show the “poos,” but they hold them in a clear case and discuss the shape, size, make up or consistency and smell. BTW, I’m laughing my head off as I type this. (Told you I was a tomboy.) I can’t quite see an American show discussing the same material.

I enjoy Gillian’s no nonsense approach and telling it like it is. I also appreciate the fact that she’s trying to create a lifestyle change, changing long term behavior, as opposed to offering a short term fix. However, it’s no The Biggest Loser. Who these obese people really need is Jillian Michaels, with her hardcore workout regime and killer mantra: “Beatings, beatings, beatings.”

I recently created a mantra for myself, now posted on my refrigerator and bathroom mirror:

I will not allow others’ lameness affect my personal happiness.

Of course the word “lameness” is a slang term referring to anything negative, which includes but is not limited to:

• acts of unkindness
• rudeness
• inconsiderateness
• selfishness
• judgment
• baggage/issues
• gossip

It’s difficult to be a caring and considerate person in our current society because, frankly (Scarlett), most people just don’t give a damn. (Cue Gone With The Wind music.) I’m at a point in my life where I deserve to be happy and have a healthy sense of self-esteem and self-respect. I know I am a good person, but I find that I am sometimes hurt by others’ actions. I’ve realized lately that I can still be a kind and considerate person, but I don’t need to subject myself to the negativity of others. I will no longer give them power over me.

RICH

Definition: abundant

Synonym: abounding, ample, copious, costly, deluxe, elaborate, elegant, embellished, expensive, exquisite, extravagant, lavish, lush, luxurious, palatial, plenteous, plentiful, plush, posh, resplendent, swank, well-endowed

Antonym: poor

You never really know what you have until you see those around you who have even less than you. I think it’s especially true for those of us who reside here in America. Whilst watching American Idol’s Idol Gives Back special, I was treated to countless video montages of Hollywood celebrities traveling with their posse and cameras to Africa and poorer parts of the United States (in their private jets, no doubt…oh the irony.) They each did their best to convince Americans to donate “whatever you can.” Their pleas had conflicting effects on me:

Me, the Cynic: There is nothing worse than seeing a bunch of disgustingly wealthy people self-righteously parading around the world, asking the rest of us for our hard earned monies. How do they know that I don’t already donate 10% of my income to humanitarian aid and charitable causes? If these celebrities truly cared, why don’t they dig deeper into their own pockets and donate 1% (what’s that? a meager million or two?) of their earnings? Perhaps instead of shopping at Barney’s and paying thousands of dollars for a purse, perhaps instead of catering a post self-congratulatory awards show party, perhaps instead of flying off to luxurious resorts, they should consider donating “whatever they can” of their own dollars and help feed starving African children.

Me, the Humanist: Look at the white trash children in Kentucky. They don’t have any books, schooling opportunities or front teeth (ok, that’s Me, the Cynic, sorry.) Actually, I was very moved by an interview with one of the American children who said she wanted to grow up and become a teacher someday. I would love to support this child because she had a strong sense of purpose and desire to better her own life and help others. And, of course, I am always in tears by the end of the African montages. Life can be so unfair. Why was I born in America with a multitude of opportunities that I’ve received, when another Spirit was born to destitute poverty in a third world country? Sometimes it’s difficult to reconcile.

My five year-old returned from preschool one day telling me about a friend who had “tons and tons of Webkinz” and then came the self-pitying “and I only have one. Can you buy me another one? I want tons and tons of Webkinz.” I took a moment and explained to him that there are children in the world who don’t have food to eat, who don’t have a home to live in, and some don’t even have a mom or dad to love them. I realize poverty, humility, and gratitude are abstract concepts to teach a five year-old, but if I don’t start now, he may not care to understand when he’s older. He innocently replied, “Well, then we should give them some money and help them buy some food so they can eat.” If only it were so simple to conquer the world’s problems.

It’s hard for me to see the trials of my generation, with our lack of gratitude and humility. Forget about simple gratitude for basic necessities like food, potable water, shelter, or clothing. I don’t think many of my generation give much thought to their cars, jobs, or educational opportunities. There is a culture of entitlement and greed. You know you live in an affluent society when all women talk about are their favorite pair of “seven” jeans. 7 for all mankind. Hmmm… really? I didn’t know all mankind could afford $260 designer jeans.

As a teenager, I had the opportunity to live in China with my study abroad program many years ago. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life. I met a teenage boy who worked in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant by the student dormitories. He worked long hours and I asked him if he enjoyed it. He told me it was much better than his previous fourteen-hour day of laboring in the fields.

It gives you a little perspective on life.

I was reading the current Time article on legal process outsourcing (LPO) to India when I noticed the mention of Mumbai, “formerly Bombay.” I’m embarrassed to admit that I had no idea Bombay changed it’s name; apparently I have been living under a rock. I initially attributed this to my current profession of stay-at-home mom. I can sing you every opening song to a kid’s show, from Dora, Sesame Street, Spongebob (sung with great gusto!) to any Disney show, but I don’t really hear about current events during the day. However, as I wikipedia-ed the name change, I found:

The name was officially changed to its Marathi pronunciation of Mumbai in 1995.

1995! I didn’t become a mom until 2002. How utterly embarrassing for me. I used to pride myself on being geographically literate, but quite frankly, the world has changed so drastically that it’s difficult to keep up. Have you seen a map of the former USSR, Africa or the Middle East lately? It’s not the same geography I learned in school twenty or even ten years ago. Here’s to a new hobby for this stay-at-home mom: keeping up with current events and studying world geography.