"You're not a bad Mother, you're a bad June Cleaver!" These reassuring words are printed in hot pink letters, right on the back cover of I Killed June Cleaver: Modern Moms Shatter the Myth of Perfect Parenting, edited by Deborah Werksman.

Don't you hate it when you walk into that house, you know, "that" mom's house, the one where everything is perfect, all the time? The truth is, she knew you were coming. She cleaned.

Once upon a time, the state of a woman's home was the measure of her worth. Remember the white glove test? There was not much else to a married woman's life beyond family, home and shopping (although, thankfully, even post-feminist revolution, we've retained shopping!). This was a boring world, the world in which Donna Reed ruled. But, though women expect and achieve more now, mothers are left without the guidelines that were ever present in that era of suburban glory. What sort of discipline is appropriate? Can I be a good mom and not join the PTA? And just how many nights a week do I have to cook dinner, anyway? Some of us hate the playground. Others refuse to do laundry. Many of us don't even have husbands, for heaven's sake! Are we worthy of the sacred term "Mother"?

Heck, yeah!

Mothers today suffer from guilt and fears of inadequacy, which is why books like this are not just spare-time diversions, but necessary tools to support the modern mom.

Colleen Kilcoyne begins her short story, "I Killed June Cleaver: Toward a New Model of Mothering," with this statement: "I killed June Cleaver, and finally I know some mothering peace." She goes on to explain that her failure to fit the idealized model is due to having, "expected myself to act as a mother in ways that I never would as a person." Example: "I have never been a patient person, but I thought I should be a patient mom." Good point.

I like "The Once-a-Month Housewife" by Anne Hodge. "The new mother may steal minutes from some more mundane tasks. She may stop wearing make-up. ... Stop matching her earrings to her necklaces. Stop wearing earrings and necklaces. ... Ceasing all these little operations does buy the mother more time, but none so much as curtailing housekeeping duties." Oh, that it could be evaded forever!

The 37 essays are divided into sections by topic, with cute titles like "Ask Dr. Baby" and "Spit Shining the Kids." Fronting each section is a quote to ponder, like this one from Barbara Kerley: "Your baby adores your breasts like no lover ever will. Your partner claims to love your breasts? Hah! Did he ever cry all the way home from the grocery store because he couldn't hold on to one?"

No, wait, on second thought, I have known men like that! What's that about men being the "spare child"? Hmm, that's a subject for a whole other book! Unfortunately, the stories are too numerous to each be mentioned here. You'll have to believe me when I say that they're all good, all worth reading.

For myself, I'll always treasure this book. It was bought for me on a beautiful day in a Cape May bookstore -- by my love, smiling. I knew, by his pleasure in giving me this gift, that he understood the sort of mother I was, and liked it. What's more empowering than that?

[ by Katie Knapp ]
Rambles: 11 October 2002