I Love Housework!!

It's true. Although you probably couldn't guess it looking at the state of my home right now. Cobwebs everywhere. And dog hair. (update: I got a Dyson, and I vacuumed all that shit up)

When I first started doing housework, my mother was working teaching math at the university, and doing art in her spare time, and being a proper wife and mother. I thought she was a slob, so I cleaned up. It was probably an obsessive reaction to being a misfit adolescent, but it did teach me the thrill of cleaning.

"Some people may regard the little details of the physical environment as mundane and unimportant. But very often, the disturbances people feel come from the atmosphere around them." This phrase from Chogyam Trungpa's book "The Sanity We Are Born With" jumped out at me when I first read it, and it affirms what I believe about the simple tidying-up that we can do as housewives, as friends, as mothers, as roommates, as doulas. 

The table I'm working on is a little cluttered. I ran this morning so there's my running detritus. My agenda. A vase of flowers and in the distance you can see some stuff on my kitchen counter. It mirrors my state of mind these days: a little cluttered, some half-finished business here and there, some worrying issues in the sink.

Mother's Day was originally conceived in 1872, and was accompanied by a plea to all mothers to rise up and end war. It took almost 40 more years until Mother's Day was made a formal North American "day", and the one that was accepted into the calendar began as a liturgical tradition in a Methodist Church. 

The original Mothers' Day Proclamation, Julia Ward Howe 1870

“Arise, then… women of this day! Arise, all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be that of water or of tears! Say firmly: We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.

From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says: Disarm, Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence vindicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of council.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take council with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, each bearing after his own kind the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women, without limit of nationality, may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient, and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.“

~ Julia Ward Howe

Today was Mother's Day. I began my day with a text from one of my daughter-in-loves. Then a son. Then another son called, and I got to have a long discussion with my grandson (who's ten months old, so our discussion was mostly da-da. Da-da-da. Da-da-da-da, and so on). Then another son and his partner invited me for brunch, but I wanted to go for a long run so I declined, then another son called, and another son's girlfriend texted. I went for my run.

So much love!! There's love all around us. And somehow, for me, when I clean it's almost like I'm shining and dusting and uncovering that love, brushing the cobwebs off my worries, shining up my compassion, scraping off my resentments and my hatreds. 

I did three loads of laundry, changed the sheets on the bed, vacuumed and washed dishes, I dusted the wooden furniture and shelves and I replaced the screens in the windows. I watered all the plants. These simple tasks help me stay reasonably sane, in an insane-seeming world.

Every single one of you was born from a mother. Some of you are mothers yourselves. Let's hold hands, in motherhood, in sisterhood, as housewives, as writers, as athletes, as bank managers, as painters, as machine operators, as ourselves. Let's dust off our hearts and spread the love!

March Gratitude Alphabet

My mother died in March, and I remember her and miss her every single day. This March a good friend suggested an alphabetical gratitude list.

Today I am very grateful for Avraham. He is my last born, my child of "aged parents". I was 44 when I gave birth to him.

Avraham is smart, handsome, talented, fun. We had an amazing road trip together a few years ago. We travel a lot together. He's a great travelling companion.
He loves to take pictures and he's good at it!

He moves slowly. He takes his time. He's the tallest person in our family. I am very thankful I have had the pleasure of being his mother.

A Day in the Life of a Doula

This is a story about three women: two doulas and a laboring mother.

The mother's labor started in textbook fashion at 39 weeks, twelve hours after she had some light bloody show. She spent the day alone, enjoying herself and feeling crampy contractions every ten minutes. When Doula "A" finished work she slowly headed to the woman's home where they had tea and "chilled". Her contractions were becoming slightly more intense but our client was still chatting, making tea, and having a good time.

The textbook went a bit sideways at this point, when our lady decided to have a nap. As she lay down on her side, her waters broke and she felt the urge to push. Doula "B" happened to arrive at that moment and they quickly got into the car and drove to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they were of course whisked through to a room, and our lady was undressed and invited to get onto the bed. She did so, and continued to push. At this point, the resident tried to find the heart beat for the first time and was unable to. The baby crowned, the resident performed an episiotomy, and a very healthy baby was born.

The medical staff were very angry with the doulas for "letting" our client stay at home for too long. The new mother asked why she had been cut, and was told that the physician was concerned about the heart beat.

She was discharged the next day.

One of the doulas said afterwards:"That would have been a seamless homebirth." Yes.

My question is, what is your take on this?

Should she have come in when her labor started?

Should her doulas have done a vaginal exam? (A rhetorical questions, really, as they are not trained nor allowed to do so).

If she didn't have the support of a doula, then she would probably have come in earlier (here I am trying to convince myself that our services are unnecessary).

Thank you for your time, and appreciating in advance your comments,

Rivka