Two Books Offer Uneasy Mothers Reassurance

Tulsa World

When my daughters tell me, "You're the best mommy," I have to laugh. I know I'm not. Sometimes I am not even a good mommy. I yell; I beg; I bribe.

But somehow, I have ended up with two of the smartest, funniest and cutest girls in the world. Is it luck? Good genes? My husband's parenting skills? None of the above?

I know I am not the only one wracked with doubt when it comes to raising kids. Two recent books put the focus directly on mothering.

Ayelet Waldman's "Bad Mother" (Doubleday, $24.95) is a series of essays that range from heartwarming to heartbreaking. Waldman is a mystery writer and the wife of Pulitzer Prize-winning author Michael Chabon.

As a mother of four children, she tells familiar tales, such as having the most photos and memorabilia of the oldest and the dramatic drop-off as more kids are added to the brood.

But her story also includes a chapter on how her youngest almost starved to death because of an undiagnosed cleft palate that didn't allow the newborn to breastfeed properly.

Those are just some of the maternal crimes that make her a Bad Mother. She also describes the furor that resulted from her essay from the New York Times -- "Truly, Madly, Guiltily" ( tulsaworld.com/truly ) -- in which she talks about how she loves her husband more than her children. Women across the World Wide Web called for the revocation of her motherhood membership -- and her head on a plate.

Another thing that makes her a Bad Mother is the frustration and depression that came after she quit her public defender's job to stay home with her young daughter. Throwing herself full-time into the task of taking care of a toddler was not as rewarding as she had hoped. Her writing career grew out of her desire to have something to do besides focus on her kids.

The book is both personal and universal. The opening essay is especially sharp and biting, analyzing our response to Bad Mothers. For example, good parenting is so much clearer before you have children.

Before she became a mother, Waldman tells of admonishing a woman yanking a comb through her daughter's hair on the bus ("Lady, we're all watching you"). Now she begs the question: Can't we try to give ourselves and each other a break? It's a question I'm sure many moms are out there asking after suffering the withering stares of strangers.

'Frau' for all

Meanwhile, Nicole Chaison's book "The Passion of the Hausfrau" (Villard, $22) isn't concerned with other mothers. Her epic journey through motherhood comes complete with illustrations on every page. It's almost like a graphic novel, but with a lot more words.

It's a charming read, with some very funny scenes. Chaison describes the time she was so consumed with writing that she didn't notice as her 2-year-old daughter dragged a large stool past her desk, undressed, ran the water and then commenced to bathe in the sink.

One of my favorite passages is the one in which she talks about hausfrau amnesia, i.e., "some magical eraser that blots out the struggles we experience on a daily basis." She says it is the only way we can get up in the morning and do it all again.

Chaison is a stay-at-home mom with two kids, a husband and a fixer-upper in Portland, Maine. Her book is based on the journals that she has kept for years. It's full of poop jokes, kids in costumes, attachment parenting and her longing to be a "hip mama."

Liberal, mouthy and prone to dropping f-bombs, Chaison is a hoot as she fights the good fight against lice, baby fat, home repairs and a judgmental mother.

It's nice to know that I am not the only one who doesn't have this parenting thing figured out.

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