TOO MUCH ON SMARTMOM’S PLATE

Here’s this week’s Smartmom from the Brooklyn Paper

Smartmom feels like her life is spinning out of control. She’s
vastly over-committed and finds that she has less and less time to do
the things she really wants to do.

Many of her friends feel exactly the same way.

Mrs.
Kravitz juggles a busy job as parent coordinator at a local elementary
school with her involvement at Old First Reformed Church. On top of
that, there’s her children’s complicated after-school schedule of piano
lessons, tutoring, Brownie meetings, Irish step dancing classes, and
play dates.

Add to that getting dinner on the table, cleaning the
house, dealing with her son’s severe allergies and being a great friend
to many people — her life is like a speeded up ride on the Cyclone.

Divorce
Diva is breathless with all that she’s got going on. In addition to her
daughter’s busy school and after-school schedule, Divorce Diva is a
freelance magazine writer with a business to run, who is also in
training to become a personal coach.

And if that wasn’t enough,
she bought a toy poodle last week on a whim while shopping for a
cockatiel to replace her dearly departed one. Birds are fairly easy,
but this toy poodle is a handful, even though she only weighs a single
pound.

The little poodle had a seizure last week, and Divorce Diva had to race to Animal Kind on Seventh Avenue.

The
poodle recovered after spending the night hooked up to an IV, which was
a good thing because it gave DD a chance to take a breath.

Then
there’s Mrs. Cleavage, who’s a regular perpetual-motion machine. She’s
single, unemployed, and can no longer afford to live in Park Slope, so
she lives in East New York and subways with her son to PS 321 every
morning. Then it’s off to the big city for a temp job and back again to
the Slope to pick up her son after school.

In her copious amounts
of free time, she sends out cover letters and resumes, looks for a new
apartment, writes her blog, Mrs. Cleavage’s Diary, and attends to her
own personal writing, for which she has won numerous awards.

It’s enough to make anyone want to take a nap.

So
you see, Smartmom is in good company when she says that her life is out
of control. Last week, over momtinis at Black Pearl, another busy
friend suggested that Smartmom make a list of everything she’s doing.

It
was an interesting exercise. After compiling the entire list, Smartmom
understood why she feels like Sybil (it’s not the multiple personality
disorder, but simply that she’s trying fit a whole lot of life into
that small, overweight body of hers).

So what could be eliminated from the list? Not much it turns out:

• She must remain a good mother to Teen Spirit and the Oh So Feisty One and be there for them when they need her.

• She must remain a good wife and friend to Hepcat and give him the love and support he needs.

• She has to work to pay the bills, oversee the family’s finances, and take care of her home (at least, nominally).

• She has to be a good daughter, sister, aunt, friend, and member of her extended family.


She has to honor her creative side and work on her novel, her column,
her blog, which are all parts of her life that give her great
satisfaction.

There are plenty of things that sound expendable, but on further review, aren’t:

• She wants to keep organizing Brooklyn Reading Works, a monthly reading series at the Old Stone House.

• She wants to stay involved with Blogfest, an annual gathering of bloggers.

• She really should keep participating in her weekly writer’s group.


She really should keep co-editing Pandamonium, PS 321’s poetry magazine
but she’s under doctor’s orders not to do it next year.

• And how could she bail on helping to organize Stoopendous, a celebration of the summer solstice in Park Slope on June 23?

• And she wants to keep doing her monthly work-shift at the Food Co-op.

Whoa.
No wonder she’s has no time to meditate, to exercise, to read, to run
in the Park, to have a mammogram, to catch a show at the Brooklyn
Museum.

Buddha knows that Smartmom is spreading herself a bit too
thin. And she’s learned the hard way that doing too much can really
backfire.

She screws up; she forgets meetings; she hands in her
Smartmom column late, and Dumb Editor gets mean [Dumb Editor note:
“mean” is a subjective term].

She neglects her other responsibilities. She’s out of shape. She’s not taking good care of herself.

Yet she has no problem seeing when her friends take on too much or say “yes” when they should be saying “no.”

She told Divorce Diva that getting that little toy poodle might put her over the edge.

She warned Mrs. Kravitz that becoming a church elder might be pushing the envelope.

She
counseled Diaper Diva that taking that freelance job with the
looney-tunes producer might put her life into a tailspin (and give her
less time with Ducky).

But you can’t keep a good woman down. They
want to do what they want to do because they feel passionately about so
many things — even if they wear themselves out in the process.

Smartmom
tried to take her own advice. It is so obvious that she needs to prune
the tree of her life and prioritize. But it’s not so obvious what
should go.

Well, it’s a tough call. Saying no isn’t as easy as it
sounds. Still, Smartmom may have to pass on quite a few of her
activities or at least get a whole lot better at delegating. She’s
already found someone to replace her on the poetry magazine (Buddah
bless her) and a committee of bloggers (oy vey!) wants to take over
Blogfest for next year.

Now all it will take for her to get
something done will be to stop going out on Seventh Avenue, stop
answering her Razr, stop hanging out in the lobby at PS 321 after
dropoff, stop responding to e-mail.

Maybe next year.

2 thoughts on “TOO MUCH ON SMARTMOM’S PLATE”

  1. Perhaps it would be more informative, Smartmom, to look at what you say you have no time left to do rather than what you feel you have to do. You say you have “no time to meditate, to exercise, to read, to run in the Park, to have a mammogram, to catch a show at the Brooklyn Museum.” Hmm… that sounds suspiciously consistent in its self-sacrificingness. I would again remind you, as I often do in this blog (too often I’m sure for the moms who prop up their fragile self-esteems by being long-suffering parents), that denying your self-nurturing needs does not make you a good mother or a “smart mom.” It teaches your kids that growing up is an exercise in deprivation. (Logically, then, why would said kids want to grow up?) When you say that you must “remain a good mother to Teen Spirit and the Oh So Feisty One and be there for them when they need you,” you should take your own words more literally. You can only “be there” for them if you are truly being yourself, in which case, very often, all you have to do is be there.

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