Misguided Archetype

Much of my reading, writing, and research regarding motherhood shows either one or both sides of the juxtaposition of the expected appearance and behavior of mothers vs. the reality of, or how individual women would actually like to enact, motherhood. Women living motherhood right now often come up against this tension on a daily basis. In this module, we will explore the foundations of the fallacy of the perfect mother.

In 1941 Britain, as part of their welfare food initiatives, the Ministry of Food released this advertisement, urging women to best welcome their baby with “a beautiful body, a contented disposition and [as] a healthy, happy mother.” An actual advertisement for the “idea of maternal-health perfection”.

While this advertisement overtly exploits the idea of perfection for the sake of the offspring, it is but one block building the foundation of the misguided archetype of motherhood. Below are more contributing factors building the facade.

* above graphic inspired by information from Lehr and Cleghorn (see related reading) *

Post-war America (and Britain) in the 1950s was the fertile breeding ground for such an archetype – pun certainly intended, and some would argue socially engineered. Our soldiers were coming home, the roles that women had filled in their absence no longer went unfulfilled, and the population, affected by absence and casualties, needed boosting. Whether a Ruben-esque ploy to suggest fertility or stir soldiers’ loins, publications painted women as buxom nest-makers. A domestic intersection of motherhood, home economics, and beauty pageant.

So how did we get where we are today?

Obviously a lot happened in home life, work conditions, human rights, and legislation between then and now – and we will get into that in future modules – but history does form the basis for today’s image of the perfect mother.

What is your image of the perfect mother?

Not the standards you hold yourself to, not even the standards you feel you’re falling short of – because I assure you, you are not.

What does the term mean in today’s society and culture?

How has the illusory archetype of perfect mother been purveyed to you? Use the template below to capture words and phrases, expectations and ideals.

ideal-vs-reality-module-1-related-reading Download

Photo by Sonny Sixteen: https://www.pexels.com/photo/dry-broken-branch-on-the-ground-11522978/

Poetry, Survival

Inertia

Low pressure

in the atmosphere and in an indeterminate one of four tires

13 miles till empty

Critically low levels of battery life

The evidence amasses in the case against energy

A body at rest tends to stay at rest

in these days of the tail end of winter,

the cold strung out to a sparse thread of frost,

the wind a constant movement that won’t blow it away

Weak sun filters through a constant cast

Broken branches brittle and gray

join at intersecting angles

skeletal shapes the only thing of interest on the ground

And yet no where near alive

Weekend Write-Off, Writing

Italian Hospitality

Her kitchen is tiny – the size of a large cupboard – but perfectly arranged and stocked so that she has everything at hand when I drop by to discuss when we might make the said gnocchi. ‘Ora!’ she insists, unfazed by the notion of improvising a cookery class on the spur of the moment. ‘Now!’ She is already spooning coffee into the aluminum Moka pot and placing it on the stove: hospitality is, it seems, the first duty for every Italian.
A Year in the Village of Eternity: The Lifestyle of Longevity in Campodimele, Italy by Tracy Lawson

Perspective

A New Day

I sent this horrible photo to a friend yesterday morning.

The lighting, composition, and subject were not the point.

The fact that the yellow-bathed counter was empty was the point. Devoid of dirty dishes.

And no, I was not bragging at my housekeeping skills; much the opposite!

I wanted visual evidence of this most foreign occurrence.

Time-stamped proof that at one point in time, however brief it may be, the dishes are done, man.*

A short time later, I also lit the wood stove from the previous night’s embers without a match.

It did occur to me that it may be my last day on earth.

Me being productive, successfully, consistently just doesn’t happen.

If I do the things, it’s usually the wrong things, done in avoidance of the things that should be getting done. Which as a mom is actually pretty easy to do without being caught out because they are so many feckin’ things to do.

But as this uber-meta book I just read pointed out, Hamlet says the mind is where no one gets away with anything – least of all on anal-retentive-perfectionist-with-a-penchant-for-people-pleasing-that-pushes-productivity planet.

And so, on days like this, when I do a lot of the things that should get done on the daily, plus things that were actually on my list, the warm feeling it engenders somewhere between my sternum and Adam’s apple is certainly foreign.

I know productivity does not equal worth and is not a requirement of rest, but whether it’s success that feels foreign or the new parameters I’ve finally adopted and embodied for myself after logically knowing them for awhile now, it feels like a new day.

I even did all.the.dishes last night.

And, yes, as I type that, I’m fighting the urge to duck under the table to hide from the obviously imminent lightning bolt about to zap me in half.

Foreign feelings take a while to feel familiar.

Hopefully it’ll take awhile for the dishes to pile up again, too.