but she isn't THAT GIRL, she's THAT WOMAN

JCK dreamed of being THAT GIRL, that one. That Girl who was so happy she swirled around and threw her hat into the big wide open sky, her whole life ahead of her. The girl with the exciting life...in the city, her own apartment, an actress, a boyfriend who came in and out, and hair that curled up at the ends in a perfect swoop.

JCK never had that swoop. She wasn't THAT GIRL. Her hair was straight as a stick. And, there were no hair products.

Except Aqua Net hairspray for the big hair dreamers...

Now that JCK's hair is silver, and has a wave to it, some texture, she has that swoop. The hair products are divine, but she isn't THAT GIRL, she's THAT WOMAN. Somehow...not the same.

And, the swoop? Kind of gets on her nerves...

JCK doesn't have a boyfriend, unless you want to count Sawyer

and well...that's just private. Nor does she have an apartment of her own. In fact, JCK doesn't have much of her own. Except this delicious red lap top...


whose fan is whipped. Kind of like JCK, whose own fan is whipped. Must have been that complete kitchen reorganization WHOOPASS she did over spring break...
...it whooped her ass.

JCK's life is full. Just look at that WOW curl in her hair. She's got a wonderful man in her life, and two children whom she adores. Yet, JCK is feeling a bit itchy. She needs a little shake-up in her day to day. Perhaps she'll buy a wig. Take up belly dancing. Anything...within reason. Because she recognizes the woman who jumps on the back of a motorcycle, and doesn't look back. She, like all women, has that in her. But, her flat ass would never survive the bumps. And, she likes her cozy, steady life. She just needs a little something of her own. So, she can toss her hat and see where it lands...

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Motherhood and Identity...is it a crisis?

I sit at my desk surrounded by tangible items identifying me as Mama. Adorable drawings of a little girl, by a little girl... I LOVE MOMMY carefully written across the top or bottom. I receive these gifts almost every day. If I look up, there are small handmade gems from both my girl and boy amongst the books. My son's letter practice sheets, painstakingly done - practically bludgeoned across the boxes...accomplished with me by his side, are to my left. An ongoing challenge, sometime battle, yet...success at the end. It is what I do.

Motherhood and identity...is it a crisis?

My children are glorious little beings that define a large part of who I am. This amazingly fluid role of Mommy is one that I embrace fully. And Thank GOD for it every day.

My desk is littered with papers, most of them relating to scheduling the household for play dates and activities, with folders to my right designated: Current Bills, Massage, School, To Do, Writing Ideas... Oh, yes, that. Somewhat telling... That Writing Ideas folder? Is buried at the bottom of the stack.

Motherhood and Identity...is it a crisis?

As a mother, I feel more confident than I have ever felt about anything. It is a natural fit for me. I like to think I do it mostly with joy and occasionally, if I'm lucky, with wonder. With doses of resentment thrown in for good measure. To keep me on my toes... But, you have to watch that RESENTMENT. It can be a nasty beast, rearing its head and taking over.

Motherhood and identity...is it a crisis?

There is a definitive link between being a mother and the risk of losing one's self. I'd like to flip that around. Being a mother and the risk of finding oneself. Perhaps a life long journey. Perhaps just under one's nose. I believe My Truth is on the desk, buried under stacks. Let's hope I open it up, before it atrophies...

Motherhood and identity...is it a crisis?



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Note: Upcoming Post about How Marriage fits into this complicated equation.

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"Woman Holding a Balance" -Painting by Johannes Vermeer.

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In which I sound like a Feminist from the 1970s, and I'm owning it...

I have learned a lot about myself over the last several weeks. I have moved from fear into action, yet...fear still lingers. Will I be able to build a business in this economy? Do people recognize that massage can have a profound affect on both their body and their state of mind? Is it the right time? What if my office sits empty week after week? I hate that. That part of me. The insecure, dark side that rankles, burns, and mocks...

All of this...this... journey, has really been about my quest for a paycheck of my own. I have been a stay-at-home mom for almost six years. It has been both rewarding and challenging. But, perhaps the true "struggle" has been less about dealing with two small, developing, ever fascinating and mercurial children than about my work here at home not having a tactile, monetary value.

Once a year, Salary.Com publishes The Mom Salary Survey, their estimate of what a SAHM's work is worth. This year it was $122,722. If you're a mom working outside the home, you can add an additional $76, 184 to the paycheck that you earn. It sounds great, but really? It's just numbers dangling in the air... We, as women, will never see that money. And, it feels like a slap in the face to me, when I haven't even been earning $8 an hour, the amount we pay our babysitter.

In which I sound like a Feminist from the 1970s, and I'm owning it...

I believe that it is damaging to women, in our current culture, to go for a long period of time without a paycheck. We live in a society that operates on money. If you have to rely on another person to give you money, it places you in a very vulnerable and less than place. Even if you start out with honorable intentions, the bottom line is that you are dependant on another human being. As if...you were a child.

But, you are not! You are an independent woman choosing partnership (a.k.a., dependence), yet do we really know what we are getting into? So, then after a period of time you venture out into the world of earning a paycheck, and it is incredibly intimidating. For those of us who have been out of the work force a few years? Daunting. For those of us who have been home for many years? Imagine being perched on a rocky ledge with no way of getting down. Except...down. And, there is no choice. You must come down. Or die.

Is there a bad guy in this equation? The bad guy is elusive in concept. It is not as simple as men not appreciating all that women do, or mothers who work outside the home not appreciating mothers who stay at home, and vice versa. It is far more complicated. Is there an answer? Not until we, as women, not only start the conversation, but end it with a solution. And, I have no idea what the answer is...

What I do know is that earning a paycheck of one's own is empowering, fosters independence, and builds confidence. I have just begun to feel it, touch it, experience it. And I will take that feeling to the bank...


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Photo Credit courtesy of Google Images: Feminists Gloria Steinem & NYC Agency for Child Development founder Dorothy Pitman Hughes. Circa 1970.

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Here's a little known fact about JCK

In the last few days an idea has been germinating in JCK's brain. In the quest for ways to generate income, she has been focusing on her skill set. What does JCK have to bring to the table, and what works for her family now that she is a mother of two smallish children? Somewhere between the last week of frequent yoga classes, and backing out of her driveway to smash into her neighbor's car...she came up with what she thinks is a gem! At the very least worth a try. What could this be, you ask?

Here's a little known fact about JCK. In the not too distant past, JCK was a massage therapist. She went to massage school for a year, completed 635 hours of study, and was certified in 3 modalities. By the time she graduated, she was able to open up her own office within 3 months. She loved her office. E painted it for her. A relaxing, soothing blue-green. She hung pictures and a tapestry. It was peaceful. It was her space. And she was proud.

JCK had a practice for women. She specialized in therapeutic massage, enabling clients to enter a sacred space to unwind from the day. And to leave a lighter, more rejuvenated person.

So...JCK has decided to launch a new business. Massage targeted to moms. The ones who never treat themselves to the spa, because it intimidates them or they can't afford it. The ones who keep saying they need a massage, but don't ever get one. The ones who are always juggling childcare when they attempt to do anything. Those ones. JCK will go to their homes and bring relaxation to them. She will arrive in the evening when the children are asleep. Or during the day when the children are in school or on a play date. And perhaps down the road, JCK will have her own space.

JCK had thought about doing massage again. But, it wasn't until the idea planted itself and began to grow....cater to the mom population, that it felt right. And if it doesn't work? There will be a few moms out there who are more relaxed, and JCK will have moved from fear into action. As for today, that feels like something. It really does...

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What happens if you don't want to see your truth?

When we found out we were going to have a child, we decided that I would be a stay-at-home mom. It was something I wanted, and E wanted as well. I have been a SAHM now for 5 1/2 years. My former life in the work force feels very far away...

Some days here are tough and mind numbing. But, for those days, there are an infinite number that have brought delight and joy in seeing my children grow. In being here at home with them. I feel very confident in who I am as a mother. It is something I do well. And, I'm passionate about my job.

From the beginning we took a risk to move to one income. We've had an up and down ride. It's been very hard on our marriage. As it is on all marriages. Something has to change soon. We continue to tread water in the same pond, and it is unhealthy for all of us.

I wonder how much of our lives are ruled by fears. The fear of trying something new. A way of doing things that you haven't approached before. If crisis means... a crossroad, a turning point, a moment of truth. What happens if you can't find your truth? What happens if you don't want to see your truth? What happens if what seems to be the truth is untenable? What if you don't have the courage to step forward? Even tentatively. If you are paralyzed. Stuck. Trapped. And then another day goes by. And another. And the life you're living is not what you want. Or even one that you recognize. What then?

I feel naked. And raw. And on edge. Not whole. I yell at my children. I am silent with my husband. I don't share my pain with friends. Because I am frightened that I will cry and won't be able to stop.

I am in that place. The place of FEAR. I am trying to hold on to what is true and good, and there is much. But, the reality is that there is a good chance I'll have to go back to work, and that our lives will need to change. And somehow I'll have to reach down, deep into my reserves, and pull out a strength of character that I didn't know I had. I'm just hoping it's there...


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Painting: "Shower Series, 7" by Zoe Hadley

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No, I will hit the send button and it will be done.

When I was an actress I suffered from a debilitating stage fright. Auditions were...something I suffered through. Something I had to do, obviously, to try out for a role. I started doing theater early on. My first acting class was when I was 8. I took to it right away. I loved playing roles that were so different from myself. I was rather reserved, but taking on a role was very freeing. I don't remember when the stage fright started, but instead of getting better as I got older, it worsened. By the time I was in my twenties, I would feel physically sick before I went on stage, or on an audition. Sometimes I wouldn't even go on the audition. There were, what I recognize now, as panic attacks. I would have plans to go somewhere that required a little more of me, an audition, a chance to meet someone, and...right after I got out of bed I would experience waves of dizziness. So acute that I would have to lie back down. My inner anxiety created such disorientation that I would have to remain in bed for a few hours. Later, when I had by then missed the audition, the dizziness was miraculously gone. This is one of the reasons why I gave up acting.

Writing has been cathartic for me. I have been able to let my thoughts drift out through my fingers, and have been pretty successful at not letting my censor start shouting in my ear. As acting was in the beginning, it has been very freeing for me. But, I am now testing myself a bit. Blogging is very safe. You write what you want, slap it on the Blogosphere, and usually get positive feedback. The community is like your very own PEP SQUAD. Your cheerleaders. And it feels validating and really wonderful.

However, I feel the need to see if my writing resonates in other places, too. Hence, one of my New Year's Resolutions, which was to make at least one submission a month for publication consideration. This month my intention is to submit a few poems to a well known publication. This publication happens to take emailed submissions. And, probably most people would say that being able to email your work is sooooo convenient and that would be the end of it. Nope. Not for me.

You see, emailing to me feels really direct. Basically you're sending your work, that has emotional meaning to you, in an email bullet DIRECTLY to someone else. Whereas when you print out a cover letter, fold it up with your poems, stick it in an envelope, put a self-addressed envelope in it for the "we regret" letter, add a stamp and throw it in the mail... Well, you know it goes through a lot of hands. Why does that make a difference? Well, in my convoluted thinking process it means that maybe it sits in the mail room for a while, then it may sit on some one's desk...It could take a while to be opened. Maybe it doesn't even get opened. There is mystery involved.

With emailing a submission to someone, it zooms directly into their inbox. Perhaps they get thousands of submissions, and your email doesn't even get opened right away. However, there is a chance that it does get opened, glanced at quickly, and given the rejection right away. Yet, they take weeks to let you know. And in this world of QUICK, QUICKER, QUICKEST...that seems almost mean.

So, my stomach is clenched today, as I write this, because in a few minutes I will submit some of my work via email, and I can't run after the mailman and say...OH, I FORGOT SOMETHING!...snatch the letter back and wait for another day. No, I will hit the send button and it will be done. And then I may have to lie down and take some deep breaths.



****Painting by Chuck Gumpert - titled: "Imminent"

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