by Ecoziva (Brazil) | Jan 20, 2014 | 2014, Being Thankful, Brazil, Childhood, Education, Family, Inspirational, Kids, Life Lesson, Maternal Health, Motherhood, Parenting, Relationships, Womanhood, Working Mother, World Motherhood
You know how someone can tell you something that you already knew but in just such a way that finally something “clicks” inside you?
That is what I felt when I read Argentinean psychotherapist, Laura Gutman’s, work recently. Laura Gutman’s books are best-sellers in several Spanish speaking nations, where she is known for promoting conscious mothering.
Three of her books have been translated into Portuguese, of which one has also been published in English. I had heard so many good reviews of this particular one (Maternity, coming to face with our own shadow) that I bought it as a Christmas gift for a friend, who is planning on getting pregnant soon. For another friend, I bought a second one, whose title seemed interesting – it could be roughly translated as The power of maternal discourse.
I confess that – after three kids (including a baby), having read tons of parenting books and with restricted time for reading anything unrelated to work – I didn’t plan on tackling either anytime soon. I didn’t really think there would be anything new. However, when I picked up The power of maternal discourse I couldn’t stop. And immediately after I finished I read Maternity...
Yes, a lot of it was not new to me and some parts I did not fully agree with. Yet, overall the way she said it (and all of the case studies she used as examples) made such a difference that it produced somewhat of a revolution in my life, especially in three areas: my relationship with my mother, my relationship with myself and my relationship with my children. In this part I would like to talk about how it affected my relationship with my mother.
For starters, my relationship with my mother wasn’t exactly affected in a positive way, at least not in practice. In fact, we had a huge fight right after I read the book which ended up in us not spending Christmas together. Yet, although unpleasant, it was necessary as we both said things that had been kept inside for years.
One of the main arguments of The power… is that our own personal story is mostly constructed by what the dominant adult in our childhood (usually our mother) said, which is not necessarily accurate or entirely true. Thus, Gutman states, the unsaid truths are often what hold us back, producing our so-called “shadow”.
For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of shadow, it would be our unfaced “dark side”, a side we try to suppress or deny, often at high cost. Additionally, as other authors have argued, we must try to understand, accept and learn from our shadow, and one way to do that would be by trying to reconstruct and examine our true life story.
The power… is not an optimistic book. In fact, from her decades as a therapist, the author believes most people’s lives have been tainted by some sort of childhood abuse. Of course her definition of abuse is ample, yet the examples she brings are quite distressing.
I guess what resonated most with me were her writings on “childish mothers”. More specifically, how many mothers – despite providing adequate physical care for their children and apparently being present – are often emotionally absent and overly self-involved, which results in the child carrying out the mother’s role in many situations. Then, when this child becomes a mother (or a father) the unresolved child within them will make them act childish and emotionally unavailable with their own child(ren) and so on.
Although her ideas were not exactly new, as I said, for some reason many things finally clicked. When adults we all know are parents are flawed and we might even understand and forgive these flaws, yet in practice these flaws may still be hard to deal with. Although we may rationally believe that our mother/father did the best they could to raise us, with the tools and knowledge they had at that moment in their lives – the hurt child in us might still dominate our emotions in practice.
In my case, many things I carried around as being my “fault” were really my mother’s responsibility, and that was surprisingly hard to admit and accept.
On the other hand, Gutman encourages us to step into the adult we are now and make our own choices by understanding and accepting the truth about our past. And hopefully engaging in a better relationship with ourselves and with our own children, which is what I am trying to do now!
And you? How have you dealt with issues related to your own parents? How has resolving (or not) these issues helped you in your relationship with your children?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog from our writer in Brazil and mother of three, EcoZiva.
The image used in this post is credited to photographer martinak15. It holds a Flickr Creative Commons attribution license.
Eco, from the greek oikos means home; Ziva has many meanings and roots, including Hebrew (brilliance, light), Slovenian (goddess of life) and Sanskrit (blessing). In Brazil, where EcoZiva has lived for most of her life, giving birth is often termed “giving the light”; thus, she thought, a mother is “home to light” during the nine months of pregnancy, and so the penname EcoZiva came to be for World Moms Blog.
Born in the USA in a multi-ethnic extended family, EcoZiva is married and the mother of two boys (aged 12 and three) and a five-year-old girl and a three yearboy. She is trained as a biologist and presently an university researcher/professor, but also a volunteer at the local environmental movement.
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by Jill | Jan 15, 2014 | 2014, Africa, Being Thankful, Cultural Differences, Expat Life, Family, Food, Living Abroad, Motherhood, Poverty, World Motherhood
It used to be so easy.
A $30 box of Rice Krispies was worth writing home about. Sewing pillowcases from pagne fabric was so exciting that I had to Skype my friend in Virginia. Our morning oatmeal topped with cheap passion fruit was worthy of photographic documentation.
I couldn’t stop collecting stories from the new people who suddenly surrounded me. I clearly remember walking to my neighbor’s house one night thinking excitedly, “I am walking…in Africa!” and wondering if I should write a poem.
Now, everything about my life seems either too complex to describe, or just not worth it. A few weeks ago I tried to write a fluff piece about the blue tins of Nivea lotion that are ubiquitous around Kinshasa and before I knew it, I was going on about globalization. Other things, I just forget to mention. I don’t notice anymore that it’s weird to pay $40 for laundry detergent, soak your veggies in filtered water and vinegar, stop your car conversation briefly to say “pas aujourd’hui” to a seven-year-old beggar, or pop a live worm out of a person’s skin. These events are ticked off neatly in the daily rhythm of life. I don’t honor them with the thought I once did.
When I sit down to write about my life in Kinshasa, my mind is blank. Sometimes I tell myself that this sudden block is self-preservation. After almost three years, the compounding effects of this city are just too much. In order to function as a nurse and a teacher and a mother and a friend and wife, I can’t stop and ponder every injustice; whether it’s my righteous indignation at the price of the imported fruits I can very well afford to buy, or the story my gardener tells me about the three pregnant teenagers he and his wife feed every day, sometimes giving up their own portion of dinner to do so.
At other moments, I pardon myself by remembering that my lack of enthusiasm is the natural progression of time and familiarity. The honeymoon period with Africa has passed and now I’m just living life. No wonder I don’t hold my pillowcases in rapt reverence anymore. They’re just my red and white pillowcases, getting a little grimy and thin with age. The sellers of trinkets tap at my car windows and I greet those that I know with an open window and a few words and ignore the others. It’s not dramatic, it’s the way to the grocery store.
Then there are the times I berate myself. I’ve become comfortable in my pretty bubble. I let it happen. I cancel French lessons to go to kickboxing class. I allow my housekeeper to buy fruits and veggies for me instead of trekking down the hill to the market and doing it myself. I haven’t learned Lingala. I’ve never seen where the woman who helps me raise my children lives. I’m ridiculous for not being able to write about the Congo. I’m not satisfied with rice and beans and spend hundreds of dollars on imported food that sometimes goes bad before it’s eaten. I don’t listen enough and complain too much. Just another expat.
My parents came to visit Kinshasa just after Christmas – their first time. I felt sad that I couldn’t seem to muster excitement for showing them “our life in Africa.” I couldn’t seem to tap into that newcomer’s elation and share it with them. I hardly took any photos (usually an obsession) and was uninspired by the shots I did snap. My suggestions for food, sights, and experiences were halfhearted. I couldn’t figure out what to do. Even in retrospect, I can’t figure out what I could have done to give them a more authentic experience of my home – which I consider to be wonderful in so many ways. Trying to provide a planned glimpse into my contradictory life proved impossible.
Congo is often described as a country of vicious contradictions: a land bursting at the seams with diamonds, coltan, and fertile dirt yet home to some of the poorest people on earth. NGO workers throw up their hands in frustration and spit nails about failed projects over too many drinks at night. Many of my Congolese friends struggle with the creeping knowledge that they’ve always truly believed it will get better, and it never has. No one I’ve asked has any great ideas. Everyone is just doing the best they can.
I’m not sure what to do with the reality of the Congo I know, so I do the very best I can. Sometimes, that means that I throw myself into the stories of those around me, asking questions I know will lead to heartbreaking tales. Sometimes I read Celebrity Baby Blog instead of Congo Siasa. Sometimes I eat beans and rice. Sometimes I complain loudly about the price of my cereal and buy the box anyway. Sometimes I talk incessantly about the number of mothers and babies who die in this country every day to people who I know are not interested. Sometimes I hear my daughter speaking Lingala and smile proudly.
Sometimes I fret that when I no longer live in Kinshasa, all I will want to do is live in Kinshasa.
What things about your life are too complicated to talk about or even ponder?
This is an original post written for World Moms Blog by Jill Humphrey. You can find Jill blogging with Sarah Sensamaust at Mama Congo.
Photo credits to the author.
by Mirjam | Jan 13, 2014 | 2014, Being Thankful, Childhood, Competition, Family, Kids, Life Balance, Me-Time, Motherhood, Netherlands, Parenting, Relationships, Siblings, Stress, World Motherhood, Younger Children
My husband has a brother and a sister. I have two sisters. So we both grew up in a family with three kids. To us it was just a normal situation, not too big, not too small. I don’t think I ever gave it much thought, except when I watched the Cosby show. I thought our family wasn’t big enough. I desperately wanted an older brother and I thought it would be great if I had that many kids later in life.
Now that I am a mother, I am positive that 5 children would be the death of me. I have absolute respect for those that are able to pull it off. I am a mother of three, and I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into when I started this adventure.
Sure, I realized that we were going to need a bigger car, a bigger house and that it was going to be busy but the reality of mothering three kids is not at all what I expected.
Being a Mom of three is sometimes like an episode of ER. The camera zooms into a touching scene. Soft music is playing, the surroundings are faded, then suddenly you’re being swept away into utter chaos with the passing of a stretcher.
A lot of my days are like that. One moment I sit and cuddle at night with my youngest, the next I am a referee in a heated discussion between siblings. I get yelled at by my oldest and at the same time my youngest passes me dancing and twirling in a princess dress.
I congratulate my daughter for passing her swimming exams and take my other daughter for her first swimming lessons. I gradually loosen the reins around my son as he gets older, while I pull my daughter extra close as we cross the street. I dance to a song on Sesame street with one kid and listen to the other kid calling it childish.
My days are full, my days are never the same. Some days are harmonious, filled with routine, smiles, kisses and singing in my head. Some days are heavy, burdened and feel like a group of giant rocks rolling over me the moment I get out of bed. Some days are loud. I yell, my kids yell, they stomp the stairs like a herd of elephants, something falls, something breaks, doors get slammed and voices are raised.
Most days are hectic, dropping off kids, picking up kids, cooking cleaning, planning, running around.
None of my days are dull.
I do have a chance to read a magazine or to simply sit down with a cup of tea, but that mostly happens when the kids are away or asleep. My husband and I run a tight organization. We plan and schedule, there are doctor’s visits, sports, school meetings, swimming lessons, all times three. When one of the kids gets sick, our entire schedule is disrupted and the whole house quickly turns to chaos.
Date night is a rare thing for us. We mostly watch a DVD together and try not to fall asleep before the movie ends. You are probably shaking your head right about now. And I haven’t even told you about the finances yet.
But there is another side.
There are moments my husband and I pause to look at each other, silently agreeing that we have the best kids in the whole wide world.
When I wake up Saturday morning and all three of them are snuggled in one bed reading stories to one another. When I put on music and they do silly dances together. When we sing songs in the car on our way home. When they play self invented games together. When one of my kids jumps in, to help another kid before I get a chance to. When I watch them watching TV, hanging upside down on the couch. When one of the kids says or does something silly and we laugh until our bellies hurt. That is the other side. A moment that takes my breath away, times three.
How many kids do you have? What are your challenges, and what are your blessings?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog from our writer in the Netherlands and mother of three, Mirjam.
The photograph used in this post is attributed to the author.
Mirjam was born in warm, sunny Surinam, but raised in the cold, rainy Netherlands.
She´s the mom of three rambunctious beauties and has been married for over two decades to the love of her life.
Every day she´s challenged by combining the best and worst of two cultures at home.
She used to be an elementary school teacher but is now a stay at home Mom. In her free time she loves to pick up her photo camera.
Mirjam has had a life long battle with depression and is not afraid to talk about it.
She enjoys being a blogger, an amateur photographer, and loves being creative in many ways.
But most of all she loves live and laughter, even though sometimes she is the joke herself.
You can find Mirjam (sporadically) at her blog Apples and Roses where she blogs about her battle with depression and finding beauty in the simplest of things. You can also find Mirjam on Twitter and Instagram.
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by World Moms Blog | Jan 9, 2014 | 2014, Motherhood, World Tour
“Nice Versus Necessary”
As a mom, the simplest things in life often overwhelm me. I am late for everything, always worried and anxious about any kid related topic. And, quite frankly, clueless on how other people manage to have a job, kids, a tidy home and clean clothes on every day. At least, I was clueless, until I met my now very good friend from across the road, and she gave me some new advice…
When I arrived in the US, seven years ago from France, my boys were three and two. New country, new home, new town, new everything. And nobody around to help me! I constantly looked like I could not even remember my own name. I think on occasions, I actually forgot it…
I was really struggling because on top of wanting my kids safe and clean, I was also obsessed with cooking healthy meals, having a tidy home (people who know me: stop laughing your socks off, I know how incredible it sounds but I promise, I used to be a neat-freak!!) and a car that did not require a hazmat suit in order to stay alive in it.
As if this was not unrealistic enough, I wanted to get showered and dressed every day AND wear make-up and look semi-good. I had given up on plain-good after my first child was born. Even I could accept that this was never going to happen EVER AGAIN…
So needless to say, I was pretty miserable, always failing to achieve what used to be my norm of basic stuff in a pre-kid life.
As I was venting my frustration to my neighbor, she took pity on me and decided to share some of her wisdom. She, too, had two small kids, and, yet, she was always walking around with a smile on her face, acting like nothing could bother her.
“Listen, my friend, do yourself a favor and start writing lists.” What was that supposed to mean?
I was complaining about not achieving anything because of lack of time, and there she was adding one more thing to do to my already long backlog.
Seeing my puzzled look, she explained that I should filter everything I do by deciding whether it is nice, or necessary. That’s how she analyzed every task. If she decided it was necessary, she did it. If nice, she did not stress herself up and simply forgot about it.
This conversation saved my sanity! I went home and started to draw my lists. The more I thought of the necessary side of things, the more I realized that a lot of it was actually a luxury. So I moved many items to the “nice” column. By the time I was done, it looked like life could not get any better…
My “necessary” list is very minimal: keep kids safe, feed pets at least once every other day, try to be on time at school once a week (I am actually thinking of moving that to the “nice” side). The nice list has got stuff like: iron clothes, eat three balanced meal a day on it. Even “take a shower” has become a luxury! I l love it!
Needless to mention that “tidy the house”, “eat healthily” and “comb your hair” did not even make any list. They are on the “In your dream – never in this world will it happen again” list.
I have gone from “anxious-stressed-all-over-the-place-hysterical-mom” to “zen-relaxed-scruffy-but-who-cares-mom.”
If anyone suspects I don’t wash my hair often enough, I have the perfect cover: I dress in my gym gear all day and pretend I am on my way to sweat some calories out! Works like a charm…except, I will need to find a magic way to develop some muscles WITHOUT actually going to the gym (because that’s definitely not on any list!).
Now that you know my coping mechanism, just remember that if you ever come to my house, and I say stuff like, “I am sorry, my house is really messy today, I just did not have one minute to myself!”, it’s just an old habit of mine that I cannot shake. I actually don’t mean it. My house is ALWAYS that messy, and that’s because cleaning it is nice, whereas blogging and checking my Facebook is totally necessary…
ABOUT NADEGE
Nadege Nicoll was born in France but now lives permanently in New Jersey with her family. She stopped working in the corporate world to raise her three children and multiple pets, thus secretly gathering material for her books. She writes humorous fictions for kids aged 8 to 12. She published her first chapter book, “Living with Grown-Ups: Raising Parents” in March 2013. It is a pretend self-help handbook for children to cope with their parents’ inconsistencies. Her second volume in the series just came out in October 2013. “Living with Grown-Ups: Duties and Responsibilities” has gone one step up in showing parents’ whacky behavior! Although the primary audience for her series is kids, parents are sure to giggle and laugh at their own weird ways. It will be hard for them to tell their kids off with a straight face after they read “Living with Grown-Ups”! Nadege also writes a daily blog for moms who need to smile at every day’s life. She can be found on Twitter, Facebook and her website www.nadegenicoll.com
Photo credit to Jennifer Burden.
World Moms Blog is an award winning website which writes from over 30 countries on the topics of motherhood, culture, human rights and social good. Over 70 international contributors share their stories from around the globe, bonded by the common thread of motherhood and wanting a better world for their children.
World Moms Blog was listed by Forbes Woman as one of the "Best 100 Websites for Women 2012 & 2013" and also called a "must read" by the NY Times Motherlode in 2013. Our Senior Editor in India, Purnima Ramakrishnan, was awarded the BlogHer International Activist Award in 2013.
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by Mama Mzungu (Kenya) | Jan 8, 2014 | 2014, Brothers, Kenya, Kids, Milestones, Motherhood, Parenting, World Moms Blog, World Motherhood
As a new mother, I felt disoriented a lot, I imagine like most of you. I mean, who was this wondrous little creature, equal parts mom and dad and maybe bit of a wayward uncle somewhere in there.
New babies are all instinct, nervous system and an unrelenting digestive system. We, the new moms, eagerly search for any hint of their uniqueness – anything that separates them from other babies and helps us learn about the little emerging person they are. Are they independent or clingy? A giggler or more serious? An old soul or a new one (if you’re so inclined to think that way)?
And with every expression of something new – a proclivity or an interest or an emotion – I wondered: Is this just typical baby stuff or is it an expression of his unique Caleb-ness. We found it incredible how much he responded to music and loved to kick around balls with a deftness that seemed beyond his babyhood. We harbored fantasies related to orchestral and athletic prowess. But, really, wasn’t this stuff universal? Don’t all babies love music and playing with orb-shaped objects?
That was the root of my disorientation: which of this stuff was the embodiment of babyhood and which was the embodiment of this particular baby? In this one way (and ONLY in that way) I was a bit envious of a friend who had fraternal twins. At each developmental stage their uniqueness was obvious. Susie was the shy one who loved to snuggle and Jack was the independent one who never wanted to sleep.
With an only child there is simply no point of comparison. A first born defines what a baby is. It’s a tall order for such a little guy.
Now here I am with my second boy in my arms. And everything he does is inevitably compares to his brother. He talks later, clings more, sleeps worse, snuggles more, fears strangers more etc… THAN his brother. His teeth came in closer together, his fingers are longer, he loves animals more, is less interested in television shows and wants to be carried more THAN his brother. You’d think I’d finally be relieved by being able to know my baby in comparison to some precedent.
But instead of providing a touchstone to better understand my baby, I find myself wondering if these comparisons are fair to the little guy. It’s as if I can’t understand him outside of his relation to his brother. Somehow, now that I have a frame of reference, I find myself doing the inevitable human thing of sorting and comparing. Sometimes it provides a useful orientation, and sometimes I wonder if it prevents me from fully seeing my baby.
I love those boys more than I thought possible. I feel more protective of and endeared to them than anyone else on the planet. And cliché as it is, that love grows every day. That love defies an intellectual “understanding” of who each one is as person. But, knowing your child is the color within the thickly etched lines of that raw human love. I want to see those colors as clearly as possible.
What do you other mamas think of this? Do you have trouble truly “seeing” your kids not in relation to their siblings? Does it even matter?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by our writer in Kenya, Mama Mzungu, who writes at www.mamamzungu.com .
Photo credit to the author.
Originally from Chicago, Kim has dabbled in world travel through her 20s and is finally realizing her dream of living and working in Western Kenya with her husband and two small boys, Caleb and Emmet. She writes about tension of looking at what the family left in the US and feeling like they live a relatively simple life, and then looking at their neighbors and feeling embarrassed by their riches. She writes about clumsily navigating the inevitable cultural differences and learning every day that we share more than we don’t. Come visit her at Mama Mzungu.
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by Elizabeth Atalay | Dec 17, 2013 | 2013, Babies, Birthing, Clean Birth Kits, Girls, Health, Hospital, Humanitarian, Maternal Health, Motherhood, Pregnancy, Social Good, World Moms Blog, World Voice
In 2000, 189 nations made a promise to free people from extreme poverty and multiple deprivations. This pledge turned into the eight Millennium Development Goals, and was written as the Millennium Goal Declaration .- United Nations Development Programme
MDG #5 is to Improve Maternal Health and we are excited to continue our #Moms4MDG campaign this month by joining forces with Every Mother Counts.
Every Mother Counts is an organization founded by Christy Turlington Burns after her own frightening experience during childbirth. Christy became aware that her scenario could have been fatal, as it is for many women globally, without access to the quality healthcare she had been provided. Every year hundreds of thousands of women die during or due to childbirth, mostly from preventable causes. Every Mother Counts works to reach the goal that no mother should have to give her life while giving birth to another. Tomorrow, in conjunction with our Twitter Parties, World Moms Blog contributor Dee Harlow in Laos features a post on the Every Mother Counts Blog about Maternal Health.
We hope you will also join us tomorrow , December 18th, for our #Moms4MDGs Twitter party to discuss Maternal Health with @everymomcounts at 1:00 EST, and at 9:00 pm EST. See you there!
P.S. Never been to a twitter party before? Go to www.tweetchat.com and put in the hashtag: “#Moms4MDGs during the party times. From there you can retweet and tweet and the hashtag will automatically be added to your tweets. And, from there you can also view all of the party tweets!
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by World Voice Editor, Elizabeth Atalay of Documama in Rhode Island, USA.
Elizabeth Atalay is a Digital Media Producer, Managing Editor at World Moms Network, and a Social Media Manager. She was a 2015 United Nations Foundation Social Good Fellow, and traveled to Ethiopia as an International Reporting Project New Media Fellow to report on newborn health in 2014. On her personal blog, Documama.org, she uses digital media as a new medium for her background as a documentarian. After having worked on Feature Films and Television series for FOX, NBC, MGM, Columbia Pictures, Warner Brothers, 20th Century Fox, and Castle Rock Pictures, she studied documentary filmmaking and anthropology earning a Masters degree in Media Studies from The New School in New York. Since becoming a Digital Media Producer she has worked on social media campaigns for non-profits such as Save The Children, WaterAid, ONE.org, UNICEF, United Nations Foundation, Edesia, World Pulse, American Heart Association, and The Gates Foundation. Her writing has also been featured on ONE.org, Johnson & Johnson’s BabyCenter.com, EnoughProject.org, GaviAlliance.org, and Worldmomsnetwork.com. Elizabeth has traveled to 70 countries around the world, most recently to Haiti with Artisan Business Network to visit artisans in partnership with Macy’s Heart of Haiti line, which provides sustainable income to Haitian artisans. Elizabeth lives in New England with her husband and four children.
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