Confessions of a Contented Stepmother - A Special Holiday Meditation

The holidays are almost here and my husband will depart for his annual pre-Christmas visit to his son and daughter-in-law's home to see the two grandsons (with another child on the way).   Our relationship started this way: splitting for a short period so that my boyfriend would spend time with his child. Then we got married and were together for the holidays at some point. That lasted about twenty years.  Aside from a few sympathy notes for the losses of his grandmother and grandfather, we are now back to square one for the last six years, "compartmentalizing."   And it's okay.  Perhaps, postmodern stepmothering should begin by acknowledging that "stepping" away from the nuclear family created by the previous marriage offers just the right breathing space for this relationship to find itself again - a bit altered, but still in tact.

Andy Warhol, Liz, 1965 (Kate Burton' stepmother)

Why write about this amiable compromise?  Because postmodern parenting should be open to renegotiations as children become grownups.  For, if a stepmother feels like an outsider, it's only fair to set boundaries, create a safe distance and encourage her husband to spend quality time with his kids and the grandkids on his own. Of course, it's up to the stepmother to feel sincerely content with this arrangement.

Adrien Broom, Snow White's Apple, 2015

Recently, the Hudson River Museum exhibited Envy: One Sin, Seven Stories, an installation of staged fairytales in photographs by Adrien Broom, featuring the best known evil stepmothers: Cinderella's and Snow White's.  Chilling, given the fact that a lot of children have stepparents.  An updated version would have been more imaginative - and engaging.

Today's fairytales are The Parent Trap and What a Girl Wants, i.e.,  the natural parent leaves the fiance/ee at the altar and reunites with the other natural parent so that everyone lives happily ever after.

So much for fiction.

In the real world, stepmothers may find the holidays sticky and icky. My solution may not be right for every blended family, but it's here as a suggestion for stepmothers already agonizing over how to keep things merry and bright.

Happy Holidays, Postmodern Mothers and Stepmothers - and take care,

Beth New York

Settling for Less While Trying to "Have It All": The Adjunct is Also a Mom

All right - I am stupid!  I admit it.  It was stupid to accept becoming an adjunct professor (now referred to as "contingent faculty") way back before my daughter was born.  We were about to move to Providence, Rhode Island so that my husband could begin his gig in the Physics Department at Brown University.  With incredible, wonderful luck, I phoned the Music and Art Department at Simmons College to ask about possible openings.  Miraculously the chairperson,  the amazing and inspiring feminist art historian Alicia Faxon, was available to chat.  She suggested that I call one of her part-time faculty members for advice.  This Canadian had just learned her visa would not come through in time for fall semester, and - voilà: I had an interview to teach the "History of Women Artists."  (Teaching "Women as Art and Artist" at NYU came in handy for this opportunity - thank you, General Studies Program.)   In September 1989,  I become a full-time "part-timer":  a freelance adjunct professor and art historian/critic for hire.

Two years after I started teaching at Simmons (and again teaching the "History of Women Artists"), I was pregnant with my daughter. Who could have prepared me for the enormous transformation from careerist to mother? No one.  I hadn't a clue.  Good fortune brought sage women artists into my life, like the highly accomplished Tayo Heuser.  I was teaching, reviewing exhibitions for Art New England and co-directing the Bannister Gallery at Rhode Island College with the multi-talented Alexandra Broches (best known as the founder and former director of Hera Gallery, one of the first women artists coops).  These exceptional women discussed the influence of motherhood on their work, the sense of "a death of the self" as they had been before children came along.  I listened. I tried to imagine myself in their place. However, the authenticity of such feelings cannot be truly claimed before that precious wonder arrives: beautiful, helpless and fascinating. The greatest show on earth - from dawn to dusk and then some. I absolutely fell in love with my child and being her mother. 

Fortunately, the mothering experience has served me well as my students became more and more needy and demanding.  Mea culpa - I was part of the Millennials' parenting that delayed their maturation process. We just wanted to mother too long. 

Being my daughter's mother became the center of my life - my compass and my priority.  Teaching, research, writing and curating had to fit around this center.  It wasn't an "either/or": I did "want it all" and tried to "have it all": a satisfying motherhood, spousehood and career.  Unfortunately, "all" does not come in equal measure - some less, some more.

Do I regret my stupid choice?  Naw, even though it is depressing to review the residual effects - 

Yes, I earn very little money.

Yes, I write books that earn even less.

Yes, I have very little savings for my retirement.

Yes, I feel like "low-person" on the academic totem pole.

Yes, I commute hither and yon in wind, rain or snow (but I do like those "snow days" - amen to that).

On the other hand, when it comes to motherhood, there are rarely any "do-overs."  With that in mind, I feel extremely fortunate to have . . .

• Attended Halloween Parades, Mother's Day breakfasts, Open Houses on Election Day and holiday card-making at my daughter's schools.
• Arranged my hours to get my child from school or home to after-school activities so that she was able to pursue ballet, horseback riding, reading clubs at the library and her bat mitzvah classes.
• Planned and hosted birthday parties, Halloween parties, and the like, with all the joy of creating invitations, cakes, and crafts with our guests.

Sure, the so-called "smart" person does not always make "smart" choices.  For this mother, adjuncting was smart enough. Not brilliant, but practical.

On this occasion, I would like to thank my husband for his unwavering faith in my research projects and goals.

I would like to thank my parents for being proud of my work - even if they never read my books (they are boring, I know).

And I would like to thank my beautiful daughter, the light of her parents' life - and apologize for passing on the writer bug.  Ack!   It's a gift and a curse.  May you find joy beyond the struggle to get the words right. May you find solace in knowing it's worth the pain and the aggravation.

And to all the adjunct professors who juggle courses, commuting, family and research projects: rise up to defend your dignity. We are not abject worms placed in feeder-fish positions to serve the tenured faculty.  We are the clever ones, who prioritize in favor of the people we love, the students we serve, and the projects we believe in.

Hold your heads up high - and say: It is worth it!

We are all Millennials

I gave birth to a Millennial.  I know that because The New York Times, The Washington Post and Fortune Magazine told me so.  My child is between the ages of 21 and 30, 24 and 34, and 18-36.  My nephews are Gen Xers - 10 and 16 years her senior.  Their children are Gen Zers (which means they learned how to use smartphones before they were potty trained).

But I have news for you - we are all Millennials in today's world.  Oh, yes -  we want what we want when we want it.  A Burger King, Starbucks and Build-a-Bear lifestyle. Nest Security "curated" from a smartphone. We are all impatient to get it right - to make it work for ourselves, our way.

Have you noticed that all the brotherly and sisterly love we embraced during Pope Francis' trip evaporated in the next traffic jam or "detained" subway service?  We are all Millennials: in a hurry, overbooked and underpaid for the nearly unlimited access we give to each other (time-wise) every day (texting, FB and networking obsessively).

One of my students expressed the mood of our culture in one word: expediency.  Right on, Kassandra (her real name).  We are all time-hacking, in one way or another, to fit into 24 hours more activities than can realistically be accomplished - well.   (Oh, you say, you can do it?  Hmmm . . . check in with your children, boss or clients about that? How many times were you late? Cancelled? Or unprepared? Not fast enough, my dear?  Not efficient enough to transition from one task to another? Did you not get the memo that multitasking is a myth promulgated by MBAs in Management Training?)

The younger Millennials, 20-somethings, are not that different. Not really. They are overextended and anxious about what to prioritize: work, love or play.  They too are  fighting to just keep going, one step at a time. To feel authentic, strong and ready to take on the world.  They yearn for a better future, like the migrants/refugees from Syria, Afghanistan, Libya and so forth, who are waiting to dig their heels deeply into a stable existence - a place to call home.  We feel for them as they suffer through their arduous journeys.  And we can identify with them to some extent, as we all are struggling to improve a global culture fraught with dislocation and disconnection.  Almost all of us benefit from the wonders of the internet and mass communication, but most of us are deeply dissatisfied with the status quo.  We want to move on from this point in human history.  (I think the Pope's visit brought that into clear focus.)

We are all Millennials - seeking a better life than we have now.

What is a Postmodern Mom?

JT Morrow, Whistler's Mother Tweeting for WSJ, 

According to academics, "modernism" is about the new and improved: optimism facing the future. (South Pacific's Nellie Forbush singing "Cockeye Optimist.")

"Postmodernism" is self-critical, cynical and anxiety-ridden.  (The Good Wife with a dash Portlandia's political correctness.)

The Postmodern Mother worries about her performance.  Is she a good enough mother?  Does she sufficiently encourage her children to feel confident, empowered and gifted.

To that end, she navigates numerous high-stakes decisions. Car-talk with her children is her favorite pastime.

Her conscience dictates that she recycle, reuse and donate. She shops mainly at Trader Joe's, Whole Foods and the local Farmers' Market for nutritional value.  But, in truth, she adores fancy cakes and cookies from the local bakery.  (She is a hedonist when no one is looking.)

She can build self-esteem and complicated Lego kits.  She believes in the virtues of breast-feeding and clean, fresh air.   She extols "inclusiveness" from play-dates to proms - all from a comfortable co-op in the city or private home in the suburbs.

And when her perfect little Millennials grow up, she lovingly listens to their gender identity crises, their pansexual preferences, and their start-up fantasies propelled by social networking and personal branding. Her children are her passion (and hopefully her husband and career too).

The Postmodern Mom jogs, blogs and logs in to FB to see what her grandchildren ate for dinner. (If she doesn't have grandchildren, her children haven't friended her yet.)  She tweets occasionally, rarely bothering to see if anyone retweeted her post.

Yoga is her outlet.  Wine is her sedative.  Caffeine is her drug of choice.

And she is probably a stepmother too, because Baby-Boomers who had Gen-Xers changed partners pretty early on, producing Millennials the second time around.   

Of course, most of these attributes do not apply to me.  (I hate Whole Foods and rarely jog these days.) 

This blog is about the Good, the Bad and the Ugly sides of mothering in this Postmodern, relativist culture.  It is about the pressures of trying to be proactive (but not a Helicopter harridan), present but not pushy, a Tiger Mom with a playful disregard, and a judicious sage in the face of her children's preferred Authority Figure - the Internet,

Please join me, if you have been there and done that.
Fellow Postmodern Moms, Welcome!

Sincerely,
Beth New York