I recognize how
hard moms work and how much goes into the weekly management and administration
of raising multiple children, mostly because women can’t wait to tell me how
busy they are and how hard they’re working— as if they’re the only ones. Two friends of mine are unusual in that
they don’t begin every conversation with a mandatory update on their childrens’
sports schedules and how much laundry and driving they’re doing. In fact, you might not even know they
had children unless you asked, which is why I appreciate them so. They will happily answer any questions
I might have about child rearing and if a particular child-centric topic comes
up they will respond in kind and be more than willing to chat about it, but
they have other stories to tell, too—other hobbies and proclivities. They do not define their very existence
solely through the contributions they are making to their childs’ rearing and
for that I value them mightily.
I recently learned
that these two friends of mine—independent of one another—had gone on mom
strike. These are women who
recognize the importance of fostering independence in young children and how
crucial it is for a child’s developmental growth to discover and learn to count
on the bravery, gumption and creativity in one’s self to problem solve and
soldier on. They are independent
women themselves and stay-at-home moms with no hired help. I
decided to interview these two girlfriends recently about their strikes
and what precipitated them.
“I was fed up with
my family more than usual,” said Liz, leaning into a plate of French
fries. “They just weren’t helping
out—at all—and I had reached my limit.”
Liz has three kids ranging in ages from 5 – 11 and her husband is away
for work a lot. “Me, too,” said my
other friend, Nancy, “end of my rope.
I’m a single mom and they were really pushing my buttons. Something had to change. I realized I was raising my children to
be obnoxious and entitled. I put a
note on the fridge that said, ‘Notice: On Strike. Signed, Mom’.”
Nancy has three teenagers between the ages of 14 and 17. She said it was this or have herself
committed. We all chuckled.
I asked about
their terms as I added more ketchup to what was left of the little mound on the
rim of the fry plate. Liz said, “I
gathered the kids together at dinner one night and said that this would be
their last supper cooked by Mom for a while. I would no longer cook, clean, do laundry, help with homework,
make their school lunches or remind them what they needed to take to school in
the morning. I was very
calm.” Nancy added, “Same
here—very calm. But I included
that they would have to find their own rides to lessons and would have to speak
to me using more appreciative language and a respectful tone.” “Ooooh, I like that,” said Liz, and
used a fry to punctuate the word, like.
I asked how long their strikes lasted. “4 days,” said Liz.
“2 weeks,” said Nancy. “And
what was the upshot?” I asked. Liz
went first.
“Well, the house
was disgusting.” We all laughed
and nodded. “The house smelled,
the kids smelled. I pretty much
kept to myself.” I said, “Like an
older European houseguest?”
“Exactly. It was amazing
how much time I had to get other things done. On day 4 they banded together and started to clean. They showered and started doing their
chores. They made their own
dinners.” “And you just observed?” I asked, fascinated. “Yup. One night one of them had a sleeve of Ritz crackers for dinner. None of them was starving. There was plenty in the food pantry and
the fridge. They learned to
defrost. The microwave saw a lot
of action.” Nancy piped up, “My
kids even went to the market. They
walked into town and carried their groceries back. They’re older so they cooked their own dinners. My middle daughter had to find her own
rides back and forth to her lessons.
I think that made a big impression on her.” “I bet,” said Liz, grinning. We had almost finished the fries but ordered one more round
of drinks.
“And what was it
like for you?” I asked. Nancy
said, “Well, the biggest thing for me was that I yelled a lot less. And they yelled a lot less. Even though the house was going to hell
it was quieter and less stressful emotionally for me.” “Smellier but lest stressful,” added
Liz, smiling. Nancy nodded as she
wiped up the last of the ketchup with the second-to-last fry. “And the kids started to speak to me in
a more respectful tone when they realized that I wouldn’t acknowledge them
unless they did. I think they
really got how much I do for them on a daily and weekly basis. And how capable they are of stepping up
and doing for themselves.”
I asked them if
they would recommend going on strike to their friends. They both said, absolutely. Nancy said, “It was an amazing week for
me. An incredible lesson in
letting go.” Liz said, “The
no-yelling part was really good for me, too. And I liked watching the kids work together as a team.” I asked if it changed the family
dynamic at all? “For now,” they
both said then laughed. Nancy
said, “Now the threat of a mom strike goes a long way.” Liz said, “Yup,” and asked for the
check. The last fry remained
untouched on the plate.
The moms haven’t
had to go on strike since.
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