Socal Mom by Donna Schwartz Mills

Proud to Be A Mother of Intention

Most of you know about my neurotic feelings of inadequacy (it's one of the recurring themes of this blog, which I've been keeping since 2003). In nearly eight years, I've never received any kind of blog award, been named on any list of popular mom bloggers, or been included in any mom blogger anthology.

I tell people I don't care about popularity contests -- which is true. Most of the time.

But there's a part of me that still feels like the shy new kid in middle school, who sat in the back of the room with her nose in a book and never screwed up the courage to say hello to anyone until the end of the school year.  

So you'll have to forgive me for boasting a little bit about my appearance in this new book by Joanne Bamberger, known online as Pundit Mom. Just don't let my inclusion here deter you from reading it. I finished it yesterday, and it's really, really good.

"You've become more radical lately," my husband complains.

No. If anything, I think age has mellowed me to a point where I'm more conservative than I was in my youth.

But blogging has given me a platform -- and the courage -- to talk about my views, a lot more than I ever did in the past. 

And that's the point of Joanne Bamberger's new book, Mothers of Intention: How Women and Social Media Are Revolutionizing Politics in America. 

You see, once you become a Mother, our society tends to think of you as someone with little interest in anything outside your own nuclear family. Tell someone you are a stay-at-home mom, and the conversation ends. Joanne has felt this too -- despite the fact that she's been an attorney, a deputy director of the SEC and a newscaster.

In other words: She's an intelligent, charming, woman of substance. And yet:

"The same types of people who had been happy enough to chat with me about politics, current events or any of a million other topics were no longer interested in what I had to say... the 'M' word had caused me to become irrelevant."

And that's just nuts, because as Joanne points out, for many of us, giving birth to the next generation of citizens results in a political awakening; an urge to ensure that the world we leave our children is better than it was when we got here.

This is borne out by the collection of essays in this book, which represents viewpoints from the entire political spectrum. Yes, the MOMocrats are well represented -- but Joanne has gathered thought-provoking commentaries from women who are Republican, Independent and Tea Party as well, on a wide range of issues and themes, with Joanne's voice at the top of the chapters, providing context.

And I'd like my husband to know that some of my favorite essays in this book were written by Republicans and Independents: Julie Marsh's generous account of meeting feminist icon Gloria Steinem, Dana Tuszke's honest confession that in 2008, she was a struggling "Republican on the Fence," Jessica Gottlieb's irritation with the progressives' "cult of Obama," Shannon Lowe's explanation of how she made the transition from being "pro-choice" to being "pro-life," and Kim Jossfolk's protest against a congressional Tea Party caucus (surprising, as she appears to be of that political persuasion). 

I even found myself agreeing with Tracee Sioux's  admiring description of Sarah Palin as a "bad-ass mom."

On my own side of the aisle: I loved Devra Renner's recollection of  being a teenage rebel at a White House Conference on Aging (you just have to read it), MOMocrat Jaelithe Judy's heartbreaking "Hunger is a Motivator," and Cecily Kellogg's poignant "Speaking to the Candidates About Choice." 

The Mothers of Intention are all smart, funny and caring, and the book is an entertaining read. Out of all the essays in this anthology, I couldn't find a dud in the bunch.

Not even mine.

DISCLOSURE: My husband was disappointed to learn that I was not compensated for my contribution to this book, nor for writing this post. I feel it is an honor to be included with so many great women writers who just happen to also be mothers.

Blog Book Tour: "The Only True Genius in the Family"

There's a new meme going around: a list of 100 essential books compiled by the BBC. You are supposed to check off and count how many you've read.

The BBC claims that the average person will only read six of the 100 books on the list. I am embarrassed to admit that I've only read 19... and most of those before I turned 20.

I might have done better if all the books in the Harry Potter series didn't count as one... as well as the COMPLETE works of William Shakespeare (however, several Dickens titles are there by themselves. Then again, those are LONG books!)

At any rate, it's a reminder that I don't read that much any longer -- at least, not fiction. (I actually spend most of my day reading news, email, blog posts, magazines, etc. When I'm not trying to keep up on my own writing). And it's a shame, because curling up and getting lost in a good book used to be one of my favorite pastimes.

That is one of the reasons why I agreed to review Jennie Nash's new novel, "The Only True Genius in the Family." That, and the fact that the author contacted me herself to ask if I wanted to participate in a blog book tour. I love the way the Internet makes old barriers fuzzy. I especially loved that Jennie is bypassing the usual publicists and set up the blog tour herself. It was an offer I could not refuse -- especially since she gave me a whopping THREE MONTHS to read her book and write a post about it.

But as much as I liked the idea of participating in this blog book tour, I had trouble making the time to get out the book and READ it... so, in typical fashion, I waited until the VERY LAST MINUTE.

Yeah. I read it yesterday.

I should probably tell you that when I DO take the time to sit down and read a good book, I tend to stay with it until the end. I read each of the Harry Potter books in one day (and some of them were over 500 pages long) -- so I don't think I shortchanged Jennie by going through it one swoop... especially since I kind of couldn't help myself. Once I got into it, I was INTO it.

You see, the protagonist - Claire - is a woman who is a lot like me: early 50's, creative... with unresolved issues with her parents. Claire is a successful commercial photographer with a life that most people would envy: a good marriage, good income, a beautiful house on the beach, and a beautiful daughter on the verge of becoming a success in her own right.

But Claire can't enjoy all those good things - especially her own professional success, because her father is also a photographer; a famous one. While Claire earns a good living making food look beautiful for Bon Appetit and Martha Stewart, her dad's work hangs in museums around the world. Claire discounts her success because it isn't ART... and she suspects her father doesn't approve. These feelings become even more intense when her dad dies; a death that turned out to be carefully planned.

This is a book about relationships: between fathers and daughters, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives... but most importantly, about the relationship between the creative urge and self-esteem. Jennie Nash wrote non-fiction before she published her first novel -- she writes knowingly about art and artists, but covers issues that are universal to the creative spirit.

I found myself nodding sympathetically as Claire fumbles her way into problems of her own making. I understand how one can find success in the world, yet feel like a failure. Like Claire, I have a tendency to discount a dozen positive reviews -- but remember one negative comment forever.

In the end, Claire learns the truth about herself, her family and her troubled relationship with her dad, and she finds some peace -- at least, as much as a creative person can (because, let's face it: conflict is the fuel that keeps an artist's fire burning -- I don't see her feeling tranquil for long).

And I think I learned a little too, from being in Claire's world.

More White Trash Mom

I have an addendum to that last post, which was written over the course of two days and was interrupted several times by -- well, I can't tell you what the interruptions were about... yet... but there's some excitement afoot here at Chez SoCalMom, and I'm afraid it's interfering with my ability to focus.

If you look at that post carefully, you can probably tell when I started getting the phone calls that have made my brain go all fuzzy. And those who know how I work (cramming as much as I can while my kid is at school) will recognize what happens when I hit my deadline (time to pick her up). Tonight is her Open House, which means that today was a minimum day (pick up moved up from 3:00 p.m. to 12:30).

So I may have left you with the impression that the White Trash Mom Handbook is a serious tome, like when I mentioned Michelle's practical advice, without offering you a sample of what I meant.

So here's one I could relate to:

White Trash Mom Household vs. a "Normal" Household

When my daughters visit the neighbors, they do normal things:

• Make fudge
• Play board games or PlayStation 2
• Watch DVDs
• Do art projects

Conversely, when they come to our house, the activities are a little different:

• Make video where the dolls get beheaded and... taken away by aliens
• Dress the pug dogs up in bikinis and parade around the neighborhood
• See if they can get the dogs to "pee" in the toilet
• Make a fort out of an inflatable swimming pool and Slip 'n' Slide that are still outside from last summer even though it's February.

Do you see? While my kid and her friends do their share of playing video games and watching DVD's, most playdates at our house devolve into the same activities Michelle describes as "White Trash." The only thing my daughter doesn't do is dress the dog, but only because we don't have one. Instead, she and her friends will subject the cats to all kinds of cute torture (fortunately, one of them is part Maine coon and actually enjoys jumping into the bathtub while the water is running).

And there is no way in hell I'm going to get up from my computer and help the kids bake cookies or something. For one thing, the reason I agreed to the playdate is so that I can sit at the computer and work without constant interruptions. And for another thing, I'm not about to ruin my diet by allowing the smell of home baked cookies to permeate the house. And for another thing (Yes! Another one!) who do you think gets to clean up the mess from all that baking? No, I'd much rather let them behead the Barbie doll or torment the cat.

Michelle says that's fine - but warns to take care when your kids are visiting others (i.e., leave the beheaded doll at home).

She also points out that in parenting, possessing a good sense of humor is essential - which is kind of the point of her book. And I'm afraid THAT's the part I left out in my previous post... and hope to have made clear here.

A White Trash Mom Gets the Last Laugh

I think 2008 may be the Year of the Mommy Blogger.

There may be plenty of people who turn their noses down on us (which is nothing new), but these days, I think the disrespect is mixed with envy. Political and tech bloggers may get booked on TV talk shows, but the moms get free STUFF. Corporations have always known that women hold the pursestrings in most families, and they've glommed onto word-of-mouth marketing through blogs in a big way.

I saw the complaints on game boards when Nintendo launched its marketing campaign for the Wii by selecting moms in major cities to host fabulous catered parties. (Disclosure: I was one of the lucky moms selected for this a year ago and have been enjoying a relationship with them since.) I've seen grumbles that Sony didn't invite any men to a fabulous beach resort to sample electronics, or that major car companies were lavishing female bloggers with free loaners on their new vehicles. (Disclosure: I have not been invited for these programs but would be happy to participate!)

Maybe we moms are overly sensitive. I know I am. I dread going to my husband's work-related events and that inevitable moment when someone asks me, "And what do YOU do?" The only thing worse than telling them I'm a stay-at-home mom (and noting their complete disinterest) is telling them that I spend my time BLOGGING about being a stay-at-home mom. I've learned to describe BlogHer as an "annual women's WRITERS' conference." And since I've started branching out in the blogosphere, I've been emphasizing my posts for the MOMocrats over what I've been doing here for nearly five years.

So I have been thrilled this spring to see that some of my favorite mom bloggers are out there promoting BOOKS. THEIR books. After all, getting published is the standard most people use to rate your success as a writer. (Sure, you could earn $1 million for a screenplay, but nobody remembers your name. But having your photo on a book jacket from a real honest-to-God publishing house... THAT's something!)

This spring, we've seen Heather Armstrong ("dooce") on Nightline and The Today Show (impressive, even with  the controversy over her encounter with Kathie Lee Gifford), promoting her new book, "Things I Learned About My Dad (in Therapy)." And later this year, BlogHer editor Rita Arens (Surrender, Dorothy) debuts her labor of love, "Sleep Is For the Weak," which consists of essays by some of my favorite mom bloggers (including several whom I count as friends).

I am delighted for these women -- and jealous as hell. Even if I were to get over my congenital insecurity (which I've now accepted as a permanent condition) and begin BELIEVING in my own worth a a writer, I would still have to deal with the attitudes of those around me: my family, who seem to think what I do is worthwhile only when someone is PAYING me to do it...

...and the rest of the unplugged-in, non-technical world, who do not buy the historic value of this movement of ordinary folks who are documenting their lives in the troubled early years of the 21st century. The problem with the Internet is that its virtual nature. Most people need to be able to touch something to believe in it; something tangible... like a book.

Still, it is nice that publishers are taking note of what is going on here in the blogosphere and giving good writers the opportunity to create that tangible product. Even Newsweek is noticing (although of course, they are not paying attention to our little mommy blogging niche, and seem snarkily amused that so many blog-to-book projects have not become best-sellers.

That is why I plan to support my blogging sistahs and buy their books, which I fully expect to find inspirational -- but probably not all that practical. For that, I'm going to refer to another book written by another of my blogging friends: The White Trash Mom Handbook by Michelle Lamar, who blogs at (of course!) White Trash Mom.

Some clarification is due here: Michelle is being ironic when she uses the term "White Trash," as in "My house doesn't look like the pages of Martha Stewart's Living -- I guess we're White Trash." Or "We were in a hurry, so the kids had a drive-thru lunch today -- I guess I'm White Trash."

In other words, if you are looking for decorating tips for your double-wide trailer, this book is not for you. But if you'd like some real advice on juggling motherhood and work, navigating the hierarchy of your kids' schools or how to deal with the PTA, you will enjoy Michelle's book. And as it's written in the same style as Michelle's very funny blog, you will probably even have a good laugh.

I'll tell you something: I wish I'd had a book like this when I first enrolled my daughter in kindergarten. I would have relaxed a lot more around the moms who claimed their kids were already reading, or at the playdates at homes that were so pristine that I was afraid to enter, lest I mess things up. (Did I ever tell you about the little girl who had two sets of toys so she wouldn't ever have to share when her friends came to play? Actually, her mom is now one of my closest friends, but at the time, I was pretty intimidated by stuff like that.)

Michelle's book is not out yet, but is available for pre-order at Amazon and Target, and I'm told she will be autographing copies at BlogHer and handing out some White Trash bling. I, for one, am looking forward to it.

You Make Me Feel Like a Natural SUPERWoman...

One of my "non-resolutions" each year is to do a lot more reading. I'm not talking about blogs, newspapers and magazines (although I seem to be reading more and more of those, too). I mean REAL reading, of books, the kind I used to do when I didn't have all those distractions (um, loving family members) living with me. So when Marjorie and Melissa of MotherTalk put out the call for review bloggers, I signed up. Thus, the year began with an invitation to be part of a blog tour for the book you see below. This is my contribution.

I've been getting serious about my health. Last summer, when a good friend (who is my age) suffered a stroke, I realized that I couldn't continue lying to myself that I was still young, even though I still feel as I did when I was 25.

The problem is, 25 was 27 years ago.

And if I were to be truly honest with myself, I DON'T feel EXACTLY as I did in the days when I could share a pitcher of margaritas with my boss at lunch, go back to work, and sip screwdrivers on the job -- before quitting for the evening and meeting friends at a club for more drinks and dancing. (I worked at a radio station, and vodka and orange juice were the only items in our department fridge. It was a looser time. And I was 25. If I'd tried to keep that up, I don't think I'd be here today to reminisce about it.)

Today, I have other symptoms of aging (besides an inability to consume mass quantities of alcohol). My first inkling that I was getting older occurred in my mid-30's, when I decided I was finally ready to start a family. That's when I got a big fat lesson in the frustration of infertillity.

Around the same time, my metabolism started to slow down. Without changing my diet, I gradually started packing on pounds -- a process that accelerated when I did finally become pregnant and gave birth (just before turning 40).

And don't get me started on the other symptoms of perimenopause! Take the hair that keeps showing up in places it doesn't belong on a woman, or the thinning hair on the top of my head. I've got the makings of a bald spot that gets bigger each year, convincing me that I may soon have to invest in a good piece -- or a wardrobe of hats. There are the menstrual periods that used to arrive like clockwork and now -- well, let's just call them an ever-changing surprise, because there is no longer any predictability to them at all.

Getting old sucks. But chronic illness sucks more. I'm not too crazy about the idea of dying at this time in my life, either. So when I read the blurb on The Natural Superwoman, I was intrigued:

The Scientifically Backed Program for Feeling Great, Looking Younger, and Enjoying Amazing Energy at Any Age.

When I read the name of the authors, I knew I HAD to read this book. You see, Dr. Uzzi Reiss was my OB/Gyn for 15 years. He was the man who treated me for my infertility, and he delivered my daughter.

I loved this gentle, caring, tiny man, who always made me feel confident, secure and safe.

Ironically, the very baby we worked so hard to create and deliver was in part responsible for my parting ways with Dr. Reiss. For two years after her birth, I continued to work full-time outside the home, at a very demanding, high pressure job. I couldn't handle the stress, and the minute it was financially viable to do so, I quit and became a stay-at-home mom.

I lost a good income. More important, I lost a really good health insurance plan. We could no longer afford the services of a "successful, high-profile medical practice that attracts celebrity clients from the worlds of film, television, high fashion and politics" (described on the book jacket).

It was with a heavy heart that I decided to trust my health to my husband's company's HMO. I so disliked the HMO doctors that I eventually stopped seeing them altogether, and went about five years without getting a gynecological exam -- which is pretty risky for a woman my age. (I did finally find a PPO doctor I like, and am now getting regular checkups. But he's not Uzzi Reiss, and I still mourn the circumstances that caused my decision to leave him.)

I knew that this book would probably advocate treatments that the medical establishment might find radical. Dr. Reiss was always unorthodox. He treated women for PMS at a time when premenstrual syndrome wasn't accepted as something that was REAL. In fact, that was my reason to see him in the first place. I was truly suffering from it, to the point where it was hurting me on the job (no one wants an employee who gets on a crying jag and CANNOT STOP). A co-worker slipped me his number. "This man really helped me," she said. He helped me, too, with vitamin therapy (also less accepted back then than it is now).

"Your doctor is a quack," my sister opined after I got pregnant. This was in response to Dr. Reiss' instructions to stay away from tap water during my pregnancy, an instruction she found ridiculous, because her own ob/gyn never told her to drink bottled during her three pregnancies. A couple of years later, I read an item in the paper linking L.A.'s water to a higher incidence of miscarriages.

After the baby was born and I was faced with trying to lose all that weight, Dr. Reiss mapped out a diet plan: No bread. No rice. Little or no grains (whole or otherwise). No sugar.

To me, it sounded a lot like the Atkins diet, which I'd done the first time it was popular, back in the late '70's. After that, the idea of eating low-carb, high-protein had been discredited.

It didn't sound good to me. Besides, it sounded hard. I gave it a half-hearted try, but gave up after about a week.

A few years later, low-carb diets (including Atkins) enjoyed a resurgence of popularity, as people discovered that they WORK (and studies proved that if done right, they are just as healthy as a balanced, low-calorie diet that includes carbohydrates).

In 2005, I thought of Dr. Reiss when I dropped twenty pounds doing South Beach (which is also low-carb). I had discovered what the doctor had already known: my middle-aged body can't process carbohydrates the way it used to.

That lesson was reinforced when I went off South Beach, gained back the weight -- and then some -- and this year, I went on a hard-core diet through a medical weight loss clinic. Low calorie, low fat AND low carb. I've learned that my body has a tougher time with carbs than I'd ever thought possible.

Once again, Dr. Reiss espoused a radical medical idea and turned out to be right.

In The Natural Superwoman, he advocates hormone replacement therapy.

All right. Wasn't that practice discredited? Wasn't it proven that giving women hormones can cause them to die of heart disease? Isn't that dangerous?

If this was coming from anyone else, I'd be the first in line to yell "Quack."

But my history with Dr. Reiss forced me to read his book with an open mind, and he makes a very good case. He explains why the Women's Health Initiative study got the results it did, and why the regimen he advocates would improve a woman's health, not harm it.

Find out why doctors are wrong to conclude that all HRT is dangerous for women, plus Dr. Reiss' advice on preventing breast cancer in part 2 of this review, at SoCalStuff.