Having it all: myth or reality?

Like my many comadres I took my fair share of women's studies courses in college. Actually, I could have received a minor if it wasn't for their strict rules. Either way, I read all of the classics Steinem, hooks, Haraway. I watched the very graphic documentaries concerning female circumcision and the beauty of the speculum. One of the things that I learned from all of the essays, textbooks, lectures, and videos is the term "having it all." The idea that as women we can have it all meaning the kids, career, marriage, and friends. The interesting part is that they assumed all of the women present wanted those things. I know plenty of women who don't strive for children or a married life and that's cool too. So it is interesting what kind of lifestyel my professors were advocating. A very stereotypical one unfortunately. Either way, when I was in my 20s, I believed in this "all" adage. When I started dating my future husband, I believed in it. When I walked down the aisle, I believed in it. When I was pregnant, I still believed in it. Now three kids later. I am not so sure. Yes I can have it all but not all at once. And I think that is the addendum needed in such a statement. At first I thought that my female professors had lied to me, leading me to believe in a modern day fairy tale life where "all" is possible. How un-feminist is it to make young women believe in modern day fairy tales. It took me a few kids into parenthood to realize that I wasn't lied to as much as not given the entire scope of the situation. I was given an unfinished novel, and it was up to me to write the middle and ending. And with the help of my husband and three kids, I have begun to write it. I still consider myself a feminist, a strong female who knows when it is appropriate to compromise with her partner. I have learned to pick and choose my battles and when I do choose to battle, watch out! I have learned that being a participant in my kids lives versus an observer is much more important than climbing the metaphorical career ladder. My career will always be there and so will the ladder but watching my kids rest their heads on their pillows or hear them fight for the syrup in the morning won't. I willing chose to be a quasi-stay-at-home mom and I am proud of it. I work part-time for economical and mental health reasons. I need adult interaction aside from my husband's wondrous conversations about touchdowns and redevelopment jargon that I have no clue about. So to answer my own question, it is not a myth. It is a reality just not all at once.

Why a timeout?

Some may wonder why I chose to name the blog Lulu's Timeout Corner. Some of you may not care but for those that do I feel compelled to explain. As a mom, I am constantly doling out "timeouts" in my home. I give them away like lint in my pockets. Some days I wish I can self-impose my own timeout. I wish I can go to a small corner for five minutes and just have some alone time. No tv, no kids, no husband, no music. Just me and silence so I can gather my thoughts and sanity to dive right back into my own personal emotional jungle. I don't have a timeout corner in my own. I don't have a chair with my name on it or even my own room (the last time I had my own room was in college). The answer to my dilemma has come in the form of this blog. So for five minutes every day, I hope to lock myself into this room. Virginia Woolf was so right, wasn't she?

Decompression

So this is my first time delving into the blog world. I hear from several writer and non-writer friends how therapeutic this can be. Since the economy and my personal therapy session budget has gone to shit, this will have to do. It would not be my first lesson in complacency, and I am sure it won't be my last. My intention will be that this blog becomes my nightly ritual to decompress for my daily crazy and hectic life as a mom, wife, cook, maid, chauffeur, teacher, friend, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, and janitor. I don't know if anyone will read these entries, and I am honestly ok with that. My husband doesn't even know I am doing this, which is probably a good thing since most of my venting sessions pertain to him. Don't get me wrong I love and am very appreciative of my husband. He truly is the best father to our kids. He is nothing like the absent dads he and I both had or didn't have. Despite all of his wondrous attributes, I still find time to complain about him, the kids, and my life. Tonight's venting session comes from my husband's use of the word "decompress." Yesterday as I attended a professional development conference, he took a few hours for himself and got our usual babysitter to come and take care of our two youngest. He said he needed to take some time to decompress. I laughed internally after I heard this and then it kept bothering me all day. The word kept haunting my thoughts all day at the conference. Decompress. Decompress. He needed to decompress. From what?! I thought. He doesn't deal with the kids on a daily basis like I do. Just last Monday he was out all day and evening golfing for networking purposes. He drove around in a cart with a bunch of bankers talking business over drinks, tees, and sandwiches. Then he had the nerve to say the following day how much golfing took out of him. I sat there in awe once again. I am exhausted every single day, and I wish I could call an 18 year old girl to simply give some time off so I can decompress. But I don't. It wasn't so much that he called the sitter. It was more the flippant tone he said the word "decompress" as if his alleged hard week warranted it. Maybe I am just a bitter wife who doesn't get how golfing for over 12 hours with other men can make a husband feel burdened or stressed out. Maybe I don't understand how having the ability of adult conversation whenever you want makes you feel tired and overwhelmed. Either way I slice it, I don't think I have "decompressed" in over 5 years. I think I am due. Now where's that babysitter's number?