Author Archives: alexis

by Alexis Novak

I had one of those Mom of the Year moments this week, when both kids were screaming bloody murder, one in timeout and the other pissed that her sister was hitting those decibels, that I had to lock myself in my bathroom, in an attempt to tune out the madness for three minutes. It was between that or stabbing out my eyes. This stay-at-home-mom gig is exponentially more challenging than I ever imagined. Silly me, with my fiery Irish and Sicilian heritage, thought this would be easier. I once attended graduate school full-time and taught high school full time for 26 arduous months. That stress nearly broke me. Still, this is harder.

This is why I am wholly irked by an undercurrent I have been sensing recently. There is a stay-at-home-mom backlash brewing. You would think that this antiquated debate of working moms vs. stay-at-homes went the way of the shoulder pads in the 90’s. But no. It just morphed into something less obvious and more passive-aggressive.

Some fresh examples:

In one episode of my favorite show “Parenthood” last season, lawyer-working-mom Julia yells about her arch nemesis stay-at-home-mom at a school awards ceremony, “And she doesn’t even WORK!” (her tone equivalent to “And she sacrifices baby goats!!!). The crowd gasps that she revealed such a prejudice.

My cousin Cavan who is more like my sister was recently with Junior League moms and experienced “Stay-at-Home-Mom-Stigma”. The women were all congratulating a mom with a six week old who had just gone back to work. “Good for you for going back so soon. Yeah, we are all working moms here…except Cavan”.  Then they all glared at her like she was a freak. Really!? Cavan held her head in shame and then bawled her eyes out right into her coffee. Not really. She was shocked that she was being ostracized for her choice. Could a group of SAHM’s ever shame the single working mom in the group and say, “How does it feel to have the daycare raising your child?” No, that would not be kosher. Somehow the same rules do not apply the other way. I find it is socially expected that the stay-at-homes gingerly tiptoe around the working moms’ guilt, apologizing for themselves. Or sit there silently as my cousin had to do.

Then at a birthday party recently, a working mom said to me abruptly, “Some people actually like their jobs!” I was taken aback by her defensiveness as if she was preparing to be judged by me when the truth was I could have cared less. My smart-ass self wanted to say, “Yes, and some people actually like to be with their children!” Again, this wouldn’t have gone over too well. I am defensive too when I hear these types of comments because a., they insult my intelligence, b., I am far from the pampered princess type and c., I will also be a working mom as soon as my kids hit kindergarten. I plan to have it all, just not at the same exact time.

Our own mothers had to work full-time and care for the kids afterwards to prove they could do it all in the era of “Working Girl”, the glass ceiling and the masculine business suits. That was their contribution to the women’s movement and they sacrificed for our generation to have choices. I am thankful to them and my own entrepreneurial mother who worked her butt off my entire life. I am also appreciative that unlike generations before me, I have choices. Why then do we criticize moms who make a different choice than we do? Majority of my friends are working moms and I don’t judge them as if my lifestyle is better. There are pros and cons to each. My working mom friends are doing their best by their family. And my choice to be home was best for mine. No apologizes.

I know what you are thinking. This is a hot button topic and one with heavy socioeconomic implications, especially in this economic climate. That SAHM’s are of a privileged class. However, the statistics tell an opposing story- since 2000, more women from all socioeconomic levels are choosing to stay home to raise their tots full-time. In a 2005 study, the U.S. Census Bureau reported an estimated 5.6 million stay-at-home moms. This is a 22% increase from the mid-nineties. To me, this could be a by-product of Corporate America’s inflexibility to offer flex time and job sharing to keep their new moms in the office post-baby. There is also the rising cost of daycare to contend with vs. one’s take home pay. As a teacher, I would have brought home very little take home after paying childcare and we weren’t lucky enough to have free family care like many of my working friends.

Please hold the bon bon and soap opera jokes. I am not on vacation. All moms are working moms, some are just compensated better. Even so, I would like to envision moms as being all on the same team; a united front. I do not want to be the chick that introduces herself at cocktail parties this way, “Hi, I’m Alexis. I’m a stay-at-home mom. But I have a Master’s degree and I graduated Summa Cum Smarter Thank You, thank you very much”. This sounds a tad insecure, right?

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a.k.a., When You Think You Are Going to Change Your Children, They End up Changing You

by Alexis Novak

Everyday, the two parts of my mom self argue. Tough Love Mom and Earthy-Birth-y Mother don’t usually agree but on the topic of co-sleeping, they are diametrically opposed. This is how they sound:

TL: “You have to set the rules and the boundaries. You are the Parent!”

EB: “Yes, but I cannot listen to my child cry ‘Mommy, Heeeeeelllllpppppp Meeeee’ for weeks on end. I know how tough she can be and how long she will fight. I can’t do this all over again. Cry It Out was a bandaid.”

TL: “Then she is training you and she has won.”

EB: “I think I am mostly okay with that. I am just going to have to drink more coffee.”

You see, when my iron-willed Punky was about 13 months old, I found myself mindlessly driving her around a big winding loop in my city for 45 minutes, twice a day, all the while maintaining 30+ mph.  This was the only way she would sleep. When I laid her in her crib, her eyes would pop open like plastic dolly eyes and she would wail until we rescued her.  Then I discovered I was pregnant and the mono-like-exhaustion helped me abruptly decide that the coddling needed to stop. The Baby Bjorning her to sleep every night, the endless rocking and shushing, the late night stroller walks, all the motion had to stop. This chick was going to learn how to self-soothe.

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by Alexis Novak

I blame my Catholic school upbringing for my love of cursing.

I once gave my dad a lecture on the grammatical flexibility and superiority of the f-word- noun, verb, adjective…it’s just that versatile, and if used sparingly, is the curse word with the most bite. I love that damn word! As parents, if we say it now it is with scrunched up noses through gritted teeth, softly. But to really do it justice you have to shout it. I love the way it fills up your mouth with pissed-off-ness and shoots out like a bullet. It’s offensive and delicious. Today I use it to punctuate a point I am making, usually in an argument, usually when I am right. You know, a lot.

The problem is now I have a living tape recorder who follows me around all day and said last week, “Cold water sucks” and then laughed. I cringed.

In my former life words like “sucks” were fairly innocuous. These were safe substitutes when real cursing wasn’t appropriate. Like when I was a nanny, preschool teacher, high school teacher and my brief stint in the convent.  Then I had these precious beasties I call my daughters and I had to edit fast.  A young cursing mom is as attractive as a smoking one; neither of which I aimed to be. In my house, the vocabulary evolution went something like this:  shit; crap; crud; Christ. Kidding.  It really went like this: fuck; freak; fart; ffffff. See, I still need a good sub. Saying the sound isn’t nearly as satisfying. Ditto with spelling it out; no pleasure in that whatsoever.

Censuring is harder in some mom situations than others. For example, I am sweet like Mary Poppins but as soon as I turn the key in my ignition I become a mean-ass potty-mouth. Motherhood has brought out the warrior in me and I believe bad drivers are trying to murder my family. So please get the word out to senile Florida drivers- if it comes down to you and me, I will cut a bitch. (But quietly so as not to frighten my kids in the backseat.) I once almost fought a 60 year old man driving a lime green VW convertible because he cut me off at a roundabout and then flicked me off. Sure, my wrath was fueled by some postpartum weirdness but I think I could have taken him. Instead of screaming the f word at him which would have been my go-to road rage slur, I thought it much more intimidating to throw up gang signs. Showed him.

I also find that the kitchen is a room where curse words like shit can surprise you, especially when you are clumsy. I am always burning myself, ruining the measurement of an ingredient or spilling salt in my homemade salsa when I meant to do a pinch. Without thinking about it, the phrase “oh shit” sneaks up and then I scan the ground quickly to make sure my toddler isn’t right there to hear it. Thankfully, toddlers never stop moving so she rarely is.

Thank God, I mean Thank Goodness, there are times when I can let the fucks fly. When I have date night with my hot mama friends and the margaritas are flowing, I try to drop f-bombs constantly, hitting my quota for the week so that I can go home all clean and pristine and ready to mother.  Until more adult time, I will stick to “toots”, “tushie” and “Oh My Gosh”…all the g-rated substitutes that I can stomach. Cursing for me will have to go the way of many other guilty pleasures- wait ‘til the kids are out of house in about 20 years and then start talking like a truck driver again. WTF.

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