A few people have asked my opinion on the whole octuplet-birth-to-single-mother-who-already-has-6-kids story. Since I write about big families, I guess it seems natural that I would have an opinion on this suddenly very big family.

But the truth is, I haven’t been able to muster up much of an opinion on this at all. It’s just too bizarre, with too many unanswered questions. First of all, I don’t feel like it is really a story about big families at all. It’s more a story about medical technology and the ethics of using it. If she’d opted to have fourteen babies one at a time (and at the age of 33, who knows if it even would have been possible for her to have that many more), her neighbors would roll their eyes but nationally none of us would take notice. No, this is really a story about fertility science gone out of whack, and not having a very strong working knowledge about the ins and outs of fertility treatment, it’s not something I feel especially qualified to weigh in on.

I do think it’s important to separate out all the issues before we start in with the outrage–if for no other reason than to make sure we’re pointing our outrage in the right direction. For example, I do think that it’s *possible* to be a great mom to 14 kids even without a partner, even while not financially self-sufficient, even while living with your mother and father. That doesn’t mean I’d advise anybody to sign on for that life voluntarily, especially when it sounds like they’ve got a lot of challenges already. I think that without support, caring for eight babies at once would be extremely difficult and taxing even if your mental state is very sound (and honestly, does anyone believe this woman’s really is?) I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to have a lot of kids, but I do think that a person of sound mental state would look at the six kids she’s already raising under strapped and cramped conditions–I won’t even start in on how she wound up with those kids in the first place–and decide that would have to be enough. And don’t even get me started on what kind of malpracticing doctor would implant 8 embryos in the first place. (Nor the question: how does a poor single mom of six find money for fertility treatment?)

There’s been a lot of speculation that the mom is doing this to be the next Jon & Kate, to get a reality show, to get attention–and yet from what I’ve seen it appears she’s avoiding the spotlight. Maybe she’s desperate, likely she’s emotionally troubled, hopefully she’s got a lot of support because no matter what we think, there are now fourteen children who are going to be raised in difficult circumstances. But the only outrage I can really muster up at this point is aimed at the medical professionals who allowed this to happen. Maybe they were duped as well, but I feel like anyone who is in a position to implant 8 embryos in a woman is in a position of great responsibility, and somewhere along the way, somebody shirked theirs.

I really do wish this woman–and mostly her children–the best of luck. They’re going to need it, because even if I’m wrong and this mother is of completely sound mind, and even if she somehow manages to be self-sufficient, and even if she turns out to be a fantastic mom, the court of public opinion is not going to look kindly on this family. Either way, I hope she doesn’t end up with a TV show. It would be taking all the things that are great about big families and turning them into yet another television spectacle that makes the viewer feel embarrassed about the state of humanity…and don’t we already have enough of those? Frankly, the fact that I sometimes get roped into watching episodes of Intervention and Rock of Love makes me feel dirty and depressed enough.

I’ve always been a magazine lover, so I have a funny way of internalizing whatever the catchphrase of the day is. For example, when I was a teenager, I was quite well-versed in the concept of “quality time”–a popular parenting term at the time–from reading my stepmom’s issues of Ladies Home Journal and Redbook.

Lots of other faddish magazine terms have made their way in and out of my consciousness since then. For a while, “gams” were “glam”, and when it came to new shades of shadow, the “eyes” always “had it”. As I moved into parenting mags I became aware of “tummy time”, “mommy wars” and “cry-it-out”. But above all the rest, one word in particular has managed to endure over the last decade or so, infiltrating all kinds of publications from parenting mags to women’s mags and beyond.

Balance.

We’re supposed to aim for balance by penciling “me time” into our day-planners (sorry, was that a really antiquated reference there? I meant “plugging me-time into our personal digital assistants…”) scheduling date nights with our spouses, pursuing our passions, simplifying our lives by purging and hiring experts to help us…

I don’t know about you, but to me this “achieving balance” thing sounds kind of like a lot of work.

Don’t get me wrong, I think balance is a great thing. And overall, it’s important to me that my kids, my work, and myself each get enough attention. I’m just not sure if “a balanced life” is possible for a mom, especially a mom of young children, to achieve. And I wonder if it actually adds to all the stress and guilt and “shoulds” moms sometimes feel when they are faced with the (inevitable) truth that their life is out of balance.

I can’t control my kids (not really) or the weather. I can’t control how much my editor loves or hates the story I just turned in and when she may require a revision. I can’t control checks going missing in the mail or my transmission blowing up on the toll road. So the best-laid plans to get my butt to yoga class sometimes get thwarted by a virus or a flat tire, the day I planned to spend with my kids is postponed because of an unexpected last-minute work need, the morning I planned to spend reading is interrupted by a kid who woke up earlier than I expected, or the date I planned with my husband gets canceled because he has to work late or the babysitter cancels. All I can control in any of those situations is my reaction and outlook. And if I let any one of those very very likely scenarios wreck my sense of balance, then the balanced life I thought I had created was really pretty superficial.

Some days I work 2 hours, then blow off the afternoon to go to the children’s museum with the boys (ahem-yesterday-ahem). Some days I work 10 hours, use the TV as a sitter a little more than I should, and toss a little steamed broccoli alongside the ramen noodles so I don’t feel like a total loser mom. Some days everything goes haywire and nothing gets done at all, for me, or anyone else for that matter. And some days, things just fall into place and we float through the day with the perfect balance of my needs, the kids’ needs, and the needs of the rest of the world being met.

Thing is, it’s not always possible to predict ahead of time which days will be which. There’s just no way to plan out balance on a day-to-day basis.

As authors Devra Renner and Aviva Pflock of Parentopia say, “Balance is BS”. Since something will always come up to tip the scales–leaving Mom feeling inadequate if she’s too hung up on the idea of balance–it’s not really an attainable goal, they point out. Instead, Devra and Aviva recommend giving yourself permission to adjust priorities as necessary, whether you need to do that monthly, daily, or even moment-to-moment.

So instead of balance, I personally aim for flexibility. It won’t sort my life into neat, equal compartments, but it helps ME feel in-balance even when my life is out of balance. (As it pretty much always is, for all the reasons I stated above.) Flexibility might mean deciding at noon that it’s time to knock off work for the rest of the day and enjoy some time with the kids. Or it may mean deciding that today, this deadline really needs my attention more, and not feeling guilty about a temporary lack of focused attention on the kids. It may mean deciding at the last minute that I really need an hour to myself at the bookstore or coffee shop, even if I already had an hour to myself earlier or let the boys play too many video games so I could work, just because I really want to. Or it may mean deciding to skip an outing I’d been planning because I’d just rather hang out with the kids or because they seem to really need it. Like Devra and Aviva said, it’s all about deciding which need has priority in the moment, and making a decision based on that.

If I allow myself the flexibility to make those decisions in the moment without feeling mom-guilt or its equally-evil cousin, “I-should-be-paying-more-attention-to-my-own-needs-guilt”, or any kind of should or regret at all, a funny thing happens. My life is still just as chaotic and unpredictable as ever, but in the midst of it all, I feel strangely…well…balanced.

What about you? Do you go for the “wing it in the moment” approach? Or do you believe it’s possible to balance your life…and if so, why aren’t you on Oprah making millions?

Doesn’t life have a delightful way of keeping our expectations and egos in check? Last Wednesday, I boarded a plane with my husband and flew to Silicon Valley to meet with the founders and staff of 23andMe, a personal genetics company for whom I’ll be working on a blogging project (more about that to come as details shake out). (P.S.: If, like I did at first, you’re thinking “Personal genetics? That sounds kind of creepy!” then I encourage you to go check out the site. The company is really all about putting your health & heritage information in your hands so you can do (or not do) what you think is best with it. Plus, they have ambitious goals of advancing health research in a way that I found really exciting).

Okay, so back to my week. Wednesday through Friday were jam-packed with fun. First of all, it was 70+ degrees in lovely Palo Alto, where we were staying (it was four degrees when we left Chicago on Wednesday). I met some really talented women and got to hang out with the lovely Jill Asher, co-founder of SVMoms. Everyone was very nice to my husband, who got to tag along for the meals and geek out in Silicon Valley while I was talking business. I listened to some really smart people explain science and genetics and even got to do a science experiment (isolating strawberry DNA). We ate at some fantastic restaurants, and toured the Googleplex for even more healthy, delicious food, a chance to sit on a heated toilet seat (my life is now almost complete) and a chat about potty-training with one of its founders. (perhaps we shouldn’t have leaped so quickly into the “toddler poop” talk; I think we may have scared him away). Two important notes about the Wednesday - Friday portion of my trip:

Liza’s baby is so stinking adorable I almost stowed her in my suitcase and brought her home. No. I’m serious. I totally would have dealt with having two babies 6 months and under just to get to keep her. I think Jon felt the same way.

and

Jill Asher should be crowned the queen of swag bags. They are consistently filled with high-quality things I’ll actually use and love (Highlights from this time around: some absolutely gorgeous personalized stationery from Lobird, a Flip camcorder (can’t wait to use this as my new Mac doesn’t have a memory card reader and I hate dealing with cords and other hookups for traditional camcorders), a 2009 BusyBodyBook and…the topper–a beautiful brown velvet little girl’s jacket from Wati, with pink ribbon trim. I’ve been eyeballing Wati clothes jealously–and have sadly given away a few cute things I picked up over the past couple of years. But now I’ve got a girl on the way for this jacket! Oh, and one more thing I can’t forget–I got my very first pink baby item (it’s true, sadly: I haven’t gone pink shopping yet), an adorably soft pink and brown baby blanket from Lucky Jade.

Okay, so I think you’re getting the picture: warm days, great food, great company, interesting subject matter, a beautiful location…what could be better?

So it was with a great deal of sadness that I boarded the plane Friday, back to real life and subzero temps. We arrived in Chicago late Friday evening to discover that my minivan’s tire had gone flat, and since the spare was frozen/rusted/otherwise totally stuck to the bottom of the van, we’d have to have it towed. Of course, nobody could look at it until 4 PM Saturday, which meant I had to delay getting home by more than a day, and I was really starting to miss my boys. Finally, Sunday morning we picked up the minivan and left, a couple hundred dollars poorer for the tow and new tire. Jon was in his car a half-mile or so ahead of me, and I had just gone through the first set of tolls between Chicago and Indiana when–

CRUNNNNCH!

It felt like it might if you hit rumble strips going 60 MPH, only worse. Actually, it felt as though something had fallen off the car and then I’d run whatever it is over and dragged it a few hundred feet. And then–chugga…chugga…chugga. The car began losing power. Crap! I was in the second lane from the left, and to my right there was a strip of grass (two roads merging) and two more lanes to the shoulder. Luckily, traffic was light on the right hand side, and I somehow managed to coast the minivan to the shoulder before it totally pooped out.

I didn’t get all the way onto the shoulder, though, so I was hanging out into traffic by a few feet. Every time a car passed, the minivan shook. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jon and–beepbeepbeep. What the…? The call wasn’t going through. I tried five or six more times and again and again, I couldn’t get the call through. Tried my brother. Tried a few other people. Nothing. My brand-new freaking couple-hundred-dollar phone with AT&T service WOULD NOT GET A SIGNAL RIGHT OUTSIDE A MAJOR METROPOLITAN AREA. Can you imagine how I was feeling at this point? Yes, I had an urge to throw the phone into oncoming traffic.

I know you’re supposed to stay with your vehicle when it dies, but after a semi passed so close it rocked the van for 20 seconds afterward, I knew I wasn’t safe. I had to ditch the van. So, feeling sorry for myself, I waited for the traffic to clear, barreled out the door and headed for the shoulder (which was, of course, covered in several feet of snow). Thank goodness I didn’t have the kids with me–I seriously don’t know what I would have done. So I shuffled my almost-eight-months-pregnant body down the shoulder of the toll road, and passing drivers were kind enough to HONK AT ME (I mean, honestly, what’s that about? As though I didn’t know I was walking on the highway? As if they couldn’t see my disabled vehicle a half-mile back?) After I’d waddled along for a quarter-mile or so, a brown 1970s conversion van complete with shag carpeting and some very nice gentlemen inside did pull over and offer me a ride to the next toll booth and use of their cell phone. And of course, I accepted. Sometimes, you just gotta weigh the risks of some nice men and their teenage kid in a vintage van kidnapping you against the risk of walking another mile on a snow-covered highway while passing citizens honk their horns at you and make no attempt to help.

Finally I got hold of Jon. By the time he circled back around and picked me up at the toll building, then the two of us circled back around to meet up with the tow driver, we’d spent about $25 in tolls. And now, we wait to find out what’s wrong with the van. It sounds as though the transmission died, which means we’re at that “Do we pay for a major repair on a 9-year-old vehicle with 170K miles on it or not?” juncture. And it would have been really fantastic if, when we’d finally made it home, I’d found some of my long-overdue checks in the mail…but apparently, it was not to be.

Win some, lose some, right? Though I guess the question I don’t want to ask out loud is: how much payback can I really expect life to hand me to balance out three days of 70-degree weather, yummy California cooking, and all that great swag?

Anyone who’s interested in birth choices–or just wants to hear me spout off about mine–check out my newest Womb With A View post at WEtv.

Well, what do you know, it’s National De-Lurking Day.

I’ve never participated before, but lately I’ve been getting visitors from such a variety of places that I’m really curious: Who are you, and what are you doing here?

It’s been snowing on and off for the last few days here in Southwest Michigan, and seeing as how we currently live about 200 feet from a set of dunes, it seemed only right to head out for some sledding today. It was about 18 degrees and the wind whipping off of Lake Michigan gave us a chill, but the boys had a blast sliding down the dunes (we were the first to sled on this particular snowfall, so it took a few runs to pack it down…meaning the boys got buried in a few drifts and soft spots!) Here are a few shots I got before my fingers got too numb to work the camera:

Thanks to Bring The Family for the instructions on how to make a photo mosaic.

Edited to add: I just had to share close-ups of a few of these. Because…because how could I not? Just look at my guys!

William

Owen

Jacob

The whole gang

Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good close-ups of Isaac since he kept most of his face covered the entire time…and was so busy running back up the hill that I could never zero in on him.

There has been a lot of discussion on the internet over the last few days over this NYT article about how it’s becoming more common to bring babies to work.

I’ve read opinions like this one by Nataly at Work It, Mom! and in the comments, and I am a little surprised.

I fully understand that bringing a baby to work is not for everyone. If you work in a high-intensity job or an office with a culture that just wouldn’t allow babies, for example. Or if you have an especially fussy or high-needs infant. Or if your work isn’t the sort that would allow you to sit in an office chair and nurse when you need to or jump up and change an emergency diaper.

What surprises me is not that people say “it’s not for me” but that they say “Why would anyone want to do that?”

I brought babies #3 and #4 with me to an office job for months. Now, I was lucky in that my job–in the office at a freestanding birth center–was about as family-friendly as they come. William was an extremely easy baby and happily nursed and bounced away his four-hour workdays, and by the time Owen (a much louder, crankier baby) was coming to work with me I was on a very part-time schedule. It did make my job a little tougher, but no tougher than it is to work from home except that when the phone rang I really had to answer it regardless of what sounds or substances were coming out of the baby.

A lot of things can cause distraction in an office environment. Facebook. Loud employees or those who wear stinky perfume or those who just drop by your desk constantly to chatter over this and that. A baby doesn’t necessarily create more distraction than distracting co-workers, constantly ringing cell phones and being surrounded by activity. And while I get that business is business, not all companies are created equal. Many are casual, low-key places with little drop-in business. Some have clientele that likely wouldn’t be bothered–and might even be charmed–by the sight of a baby at a desk. Not all working moms have a visible job that requires them to interact directly with clients or the public. Many have their own offices with room for a crib and doors that close. So what’s the big deal?

I guess I don’t see mixing babies and business to be such a crazy blend. The article states that most of the businesses interviewed allow people to bring babies to work until about 6-8 months. A perfect age to phase it out, since that’s when a curious crawler can start wreaking havoc on office equipment and Mom’s morale.

Whether they’re working at home, helping to run the family business, bringing in the harvest or keeping the home fires burning, women have been combining working and mothering for many centuries. The idea that people should be 100% tuned in and attentive to children they’re caring for all the time–i.e. caregiving as a profession rather than a relationship–is a relatively new one, and many psychologists and child-development experts say, a rather unhealthy one.

I happen to believe that babies learn from and thrive on seeing their mothers and other adults at work (whether their work is graphic design or crunching numbers or writing or brokering sales or making a comfortable home), rather than the adult caregiver being completely focused on the baby all the time. No matter how you feel about individual, focused attention from caregiver to child, it’s unrealistic to expect that it’ll be that way all the time no matter what kind of child-care situation you have (sooner or later, we all have stuff we have to get done, even with babies around). And I think a lot of moms thrive when they’re able to keep working without having to give up precious hours with their very small babies or worry about figuring out daycare arrangements when their baby is just weeks old and they’re still getting to know her.

It may not be for everyone, but I’m glad it’s starting to be available to more people.

Over on Twitter some moms are discussing potty-training, and it reminded me of a column I wrote a while ago on potty-training for the lazy. If you’re willing to wait, it really works! Here’s the (slightly updated) column:

As of today, one of my children is still in diapers. He’s got underwear, sure. And sometimes he even removes his own diaper to use the potty. But he spends most of his time with a protective layer of fiber filling around his parts.

By now you might be doing the mental arithmetic and thinking “Wait a second, isn’t her youngest over three years old?” Yep. I realize some may consider a three-year-old to be way too old for diapers. But while I know that plenty of little boys start potty training at closer to two—and sometimes before that—I’ve chosen the route of least resistance with all three of my kids. That is, the “wait until they want it more than I do” method of potty-training.

Now, I could try to sell you on the idea that I was putting off the potty only to save my children’s fragile self-esteem, which could be damaged by trying to coerce them into using the toilet before they were ready. And it’s true, I think, that forcing the issue on a child who’s just not ready for it yet can cause stress and anxiety.

But mostly, I’m just lazy. The truth is, I’d way rather change diapers than clean up puddles. Think the laundry gets overwhelming with four kids? Now imagine that plus all the extra underwear, pants, socks, sheets, mattress pads, and blankets that need to be washed during the “Oops!” and “Oops again!” phase of potty-training.

I know, I’ve got a baby on the way. And should Owen still be in diapers at that point, (though I hope he won’t), I know it’ll take a few extra minutes to do two diapers rather than one. But with two kids in diapers I can approach it as something like an assembly line: line ‘em up, lay ‘em down, wipe, wipe, diaper, diaper, and send them both on their merry and incontinent ways.

Let’s face it, even a completely potty trained child doesn’t necessarily create less work for moms. Boys—fully-grown ones included—aren’t exactly known for good toileting hygiene. I can’t count the number of times I scrub the floor around and behind the toilet every week, muttering “did they even TRY to hit the bowl?” under my breath. And as for washing little boy underwear—well, you never know what you might find. It’s usually best to handle the dirty laundry with gloves on, if you catch my drift.

And even when kids are good and ready for using the toilet, it’s an incredible amount of work for the parent. I—

Oh, wait. Owen needs help getting his pants off.

Okay, I’m back. Where was I? Oh yes, I—

Oh, wait. He needs help getting them back up.

See what I mean? That’s how my days will go as soon as we formally enter potty-learning-land, from the moment I’m shaken awake by an urgent three-year-old whispering “Mom, I gotta go potty!” to the last dry-pants check before I drop into bed asleep. Whether it’s help with pants off/pants on, getting positioned on the seat, wiping, flushing, or just plain old moral support, I’ll be there for every tinkle and…well, all the rest of it too.

And that’s not even including the near-misses. Though, I will say that hearing your husband yell “Whose POOP is this?” when finding an unwelcome surprise on the floor just outside the bathroom is pretty funny.

Apparently my relaxed approach to potty-training has rubbed off on the kids a little too much.

But mostly, it’s working out just fine. The average time to get my older three sons from all-diapers, all the time to almost-no-accidents has been about four days, as opposed to the weeks and weeks it often seems to take younger kids. So for me, waiting until after three years old was worth it, even if we did get a few raised eyebrows from people who thought three was “too old” to still be in diapers.

And barring serious regression on Owen’s part (or, God forbid, one of my older three), there’s just one more kid in the household with potty-training in her future. And I hear girls are easier to potty-train than boys and do it earlier to boot. So look out, diapers: your days are numbered.

What’s your potty-training philosophy?

Wow, I’m getting a lot of traffic from Allenna’s Freelance Write blog on About.com. Just wanted to let writing parents & aspiring writing parents know about a website I used to keep up with a freelancing friend of mine. It’s on hiatus at the moment, but there is a lot of great information in the archives–everything from e-mailing pitches to writing a query to following up with editors. If you’re just getting started, click the “basics” category.

Here’s the site: From Diapers To Deadlines

Thanks and like I said over at Allenna’s blog, I’m happy to answer questions, so if you have any, post ‘em in the comments section!

Lately my name has shown up in a few places online:

Allenna Tapia, the About.com Guide to Freelance Writing, made the nicest mention of my site over at her blog. She’s got some great information over there about starting and maintaining a freelance writing career; check it out!

I was interviewed for a Chicago Sun-Times article about surviving the holidays (okay, I’m a little late getting this one up!)

And, I was interviewed by Kelly Burgess for a Toddlers Today story on keeping little kids entertained while their big siblings play a sport or take part in another organized activity.

Would love more tips on that last one, since even my best ideas don’t seem to work forever!