- I have an essay coming out in the new Mothers Who Think collection about how I love my husband more than my children. I know I’m going to get grief for that, even though the editors wisely discouraged from putting in a line about how I love my husband so much that I would toss any one of my children in front of a bullet if that was the only way I could save his life. They recognized that for hyperbole above and beyond the usual. (From Ayelet Waldman’s now-defunct blog)
Ya think?
This woman obviously has her fans—the essay she’s talking about was printed in the New York Times, for Pete’s sake—but this woman drives me crazy. And yet like a four-car pileup, I am unable to look away. The mark of good celebrity, I suppose.
Waldman is clearly getting a lot of mileage out of this “I love my husband more than my children” business; she actually scored an Oprah appearance last week. Apparently she’s taken a sampling of Gymboree moms, done some deft statistical analysis, and concluded that she is the only woman in the entire country who’s having sex. Maybe she forgot to carry the 1.
I finally got around to watching the show today, and I have to admit, she was a lot more charming than I was expecting. Of course that was partly because some of the other women seemed so damn sad—the woman who watches TV during sex, the flash-card obsessed mother of three who doesn’t even acknowledge her husband when he walks into the room. (Hi honey!)
I think what bugs me about her is that she defends her statement “I love my husband more than my children” as a corrective against making children the absolute center of one’s life. That’s an extremely clunky argument, in my opinion. Well, duh. It’s not healthy to live your entire life through your children. So these are my options?:
I love my husband more than I love my children.
OR
My children are my entire life. Everything else takes a back seat.
What does it even mean to love one person more than another? OK, I’ll play…
Who gets thrown in front of the bullet to save the other in Waldman’s horrid game of God Forbid?
Easy. Child gets saved. (I’ve talked to the Mr. and he agrees. Good man. I’ve also made it clear to him that if it’s between saving her and me, he saves her, or I’ll kick his ass.)
Whom have I loved longer?
Husband.
Whom did I love before I even met her?
Child.
Who gets the last cup of milk if we’re almost out?
Child.
Who gets the last cookie in the box?
Hmm, is it a thin mint? Well, we’ll split it after she goes to bed.
They’re both crying; who do I go to first?
Tough one. Mr. doesn’t cry much; that would be pretty amazing. Probably time to triage.
Who would I rather spend the night with at the Four Seasons?
Husband.
Who gets pulled from the burning building?
Child.
Whom do I hope to kick out of my house at some point?
Child.
With whom do I hope to live for the rest of my life?
Husband.
Gosh, this is hard. I don’t know how to tally my answers. Do I love my husband more than my child?
You see how stupid this is?
How 4th grade?
“…She’s my bestest friend! And she’s my second best friend…”
Hello, Ayelet? Welcome to the world of the three-dimensional. You’ll like it here.
But I guess you don’t get on Oprah by tracking in subtlety.
**
OK, OK. Here’s what’s really hard about this. I’m a third-wave feminist all the way. I need a man like a fish needs a bicycle. “You complete me” sounds sweet coming out of Jerry Maguire’s mouth, but if I ever pulled that sap, R would look at me with his sideways raised-eyebrow expression (trust me, it’s really cute). Ephesians 5? Being subject to one another? Nice. Necessary. Even romantic. Wives submitting to husbands? Not so much.
But. I had a “yikes” moment when C was three months old. It was seminary graduation, a proud day; and I was up on the dais, watching the rest of my class file in. I looked up in the balcony, and there was my mother holding my adorable three-month old in pink and blue seersucker with matching floppy hat. And I thought, “Here I am at my graduation, a long strenuous journey at an end. And that tiny dimpled creature is the finest thing I’ve ever done.”
I was touched by the truth of it, but I was also embarrassed.
So conventional.
So unliberated.
And yet, I would give up everything I’ve achieved for her, if I had to.
Of course, I don’t have to. I guess that’s the difference. I work outside the home, and someone else receives the joy of caring for my daughter for part of the week. I go on dates with my husband. We’re going away overnight in a couple of weeks (have I mentioned the U2 concert? only about 18 times), and for several days in June. I don’t intend to compromise those things. On a micro level, maybe, but not on a macro level.
Does that mean I love C less than my job or my marriage? It’s a ridiculous question. I chose my husband; I’d choose him again. But I am beholden to my child on a cellular level. It’s animal.
I owe so much of who I am and what I’ve achieved (glory be to God) to the sexual revolution, but I haven’t yet found feminist vocabulary to articulate that animal instinct.
19 Responses to “rubbernecking ayelet waldman”
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» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!
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One: The sideways look-thing from R is cute…
Two: This crazy woman seems to have fallen for the whole “scarcity” thing…hook, line, and sinker…Who do you love more…give me a freaking break. I love my mother…my nieces….and my Clerk of Session….who I might choose to save in this whole nut-case bullet situation (which by the way, I would more than likely take the bullet myself, even though it isn’t one of the choices) has nothing to do with who I might “love more.”
Love is an emotional, spiritual, and sometimes, physical attraction to another person such that it binds one to that other person in ways that only poets can begin to explain….To seek to measure love of one against love of another is like comparing apples and oranges…or is perhaps like seeking to measure and compare the volumes of water in the first and second tsunami waves….both have unimagined power and life-changing impact…who cares which is “greater?”
And as for the concern that maternal love, or marital love, that is deep and self-less denies one’s feminine power and/or strength…Hmmm…self-less love…loving (and of key importance, voluntary) sacrifice of one’s own power (but not one’s personhood)…last time I checked that was something like what I antiicpate is THE answer to that pesky “what would Jesus do” question…
I’d never heard of Ayelet Waldman.
Impression no. one: Clearly she doesn’t have her s#$t together. (And this coming from the guy who can’t keep a stable relationship together past two years.)
Impression no. two: Her argument seems indicative of where pop culture has wandered in the last few years - i.e. a drop-down obsession with lists, with counting down, with measurements. Turn on the tube and everything is the Top 100-you-name-it. Does Ayelet have anything to do with cable TV? Probably not…but I still think her love-as-a-personal-ranking tunnel vision reflects our collective psyche these days. It’s troublesome.
Impression no. three: Gosh, impression no. two didn’t make any sense, did it? What the hell am I still doing up? I mean, I’m exhausted, right? And somebody answer why I have to stay up past 1am to watch the NBA playoffs?? *sigh* Least Coast. If you’ll excuse me, bed is calling.
I agree - loving big A. is a primal experience. It requires stamina and WORK and a commitment like I’ve never known. Other than cuddling and his smile and giggle and constant speaking of his own language, what does he give me? Sleep deprivation and a constant anxiety that lurks just below consciousness, as well as a feeling of abundance I’ve never known before.
I do think Walden’s comments made me stop and think about how I respond to W. these days, with the tyranny of the urgent clamoring to be done. However, comparing the two are like comparing two beautiful pieces of artwork or meaningful scripture passages or two wonders of the world - it’s not the same.
I do agree with ChicagoRev - why does it have to be one or the other? Why does it have to be about scarcity? It does make an interesting analogy since I’m preaching on “love one another” this weekend….
i love purple
i even love green
i love some things others think obscene
i don’t love lima beans
i don’t love in-betweens
and sometimes I don’t love me
but love is a fermentation
engendered through participation
in the magical mysteries of you
poured out
uncontained
uncontrolled
immeasurable
Didn’t I see this horror flick…Sophie’s Choice?
I agree with you…it’s so 4th grade and I’m wondering if Oprah hasn’t had better days. But, then, I guess it’s tough to come up with new stuff after all those years.
Who do I love more? MA, KT, MT, LK and then to complicate things add in J, J and C. I’d take a bullet for all 7 of you!
(Think both ex-husbands would have been happier with Ayelet Waldman, btw)
There ya go!
Dickie, Ayelet writes the Mommy-Track Mysteries, and her husband is Michael Chabon. I am obviously not part of the literati, because I had to be told that he is a Pulitzer-prize winning author. Some people apparently find him a hottie.
Ayelet is also writing columns for Salon. I’ve written about her first column (scroll down), which dealt with her suicide-crisis-via-weblog in which her husband found out she was cratering via the Internet. The second column was about how she hopes that same son turns out to be gay because gay men are fun to be with and they love their mothers.
I’m exaggerating for brevity, but only a little.
I’m amazed that AW has the time to sit and think cogently about “whom do I love more”, what with all of the bullet-taking and the sex-having. (And I’m all for that last thing.)
I mean, honestly, who thinks like that–in those terms–unless you’re trying to sell an article or book Oprah? I watched that particular Oprah with my 14.5 year old daughter in the room. Her response? “Somebody needs to get a life!” (But then agan, she may have been talking about me.)
Ah, sure - I remember that entry.
Not to sound insensitive…
…
OK fine, to sound insensitive, I think some of that imbalance from her suicidal thoughts carried over to her interpersonal relationships. I think quantifying love in the manner she does would drive me nuts, too.
…
(Fine, more nuts.)
I’ve tried thinking of something intelligent to say in response to this woman’s thinking. It really shouldn’t be that hard, I know, but I honestly struggle with responding to such ridiculous thinking!
RM, your thinking, however, is right on as far as I’m concerned. Have you read Bonnie Miller-McLemore’s Also a Mother? I haven’t read it yet, but am wondering if she has anything to say along these lines.
BTW- re: your comment on What Now’s? blog about PhD work. One, don’t wait too long to do it. It gets harder to go back the longer you wait. Two, it is a great plan to get some parish experience before you do the PhD in any practical theological discipline, three to four years as a general rule. Three, do it!! You’d be a great seminary prof.
I read another blogger talking about her, and read her page. She says stuff for shock value, I figure.
Did you read the discussion of Ayelet’s Oprah appearance on Churchgal’s blog? People were rather standing up for her, saying the marriage comes first, and so forth. And there’s something to that, but the problem is that Ayelet is not just in love with her husband; she is mentally ill (see suicide post), and her obsession/fascination for him is likely a symptom. Reading her stuff is definitely rubbernecking, reverendmother, you named it rightly.
Not that I object to having sex with my husband; the flexible schedule of a small church pastor is sometimes just the ticket.
Songbird, since I have parental units and church members reading this blog, I’ll just nod, nudge and wink.
I did read ChurchGal on this; in fact that’s what got me back on this topic.
As always, PPB is a calm voice of reason. Perhaps I give the woman more credit and attention than she warrants; however, she was really pushing my buttons and my inner CPE supervisor was dying to know why! lol
FM, I have read Also a Mother, although it’s been quite a few years. Thank you though! That’s a great reminder. And thanks for the encouragement, and the advice. The PhDemon has been lurking around for a long, long time. Parts of that process feel very life-giving; others feel positively life-sucking. I’m in my second year of ministry, so if I get a couple more years under my belt I’ll be 36-ish.
We’ll just have to see “if the way be clear.” </presbyterian>
36-ish was when I started seminary. It’s do-able. I’ll probably be 46-ish when I start the D.Min. Go for it when the time is right. (If the way be clear, of course.)
(coughpresbyteryiantoocough)
I don’t think feminist vocabulary is built for anything but feminist agenda. Same with any “ist” vocabulary–it has a purpose, which means, to state the obvious, that some things aren’t its purpose.
The sexual revolution needed to happen, but I think to push people into a revolution, you have to polarize their thinking–hence the vocabulary. Problem is, polarized vocabulary can’t articulate non-polarized thoughts.
Or something. It’s late and I’m on baby duty.
Yeah, that’s a good point. A major criticism of feminism was its disregard (intentional or not) of issues relating to motherhood. Maybe that’s because it is so personal (although also political), and it’s so varied in terms of people’s experiences (although, what isn’t?). There’s been some recognition in recent years of the fact that feminism hasn’t dealt well/at all with motherhood, and now of course we have all these mommy books out now (Judith Warner’s Perfect Madness et al) which are mixed in terms of usefulness.
Of course I’m not well-versed on secular feminism these days. I let my subscription to Ms. lapse
I do think, going down the road that ChicagoRev seemed to be heading, that feminist theology has some potential to be helpful. And I really do need to read Bonnie Miller-McLemore’s book again.
Time to go teach.
I guess I’ll have to read it again, too. I’m definitely in the category of “working mother who took less remunerative job in exchange for having more family flexibility.” It’s actually worked out fairly well for us, most of the time, but my kids are not small anymore at 19, 14 and almost 10.
I have a dream, rm and FM, about a D.Min. in Biblical Studies, and I already have a thesis topic in mind.
I’ve struggled a lot of with perceiving myself as a mother. I bought into the early feminist binary oppositionalism that made it seem you could only be a feminist if you rejected motherhood. The assumptions have been deeply embedded and largely unexamined until SFW came into the picture. I still struggle with it. I think that’s what jo(e)’s writing is speaking to in me. It’s helping surface those assumptions and address the embodiment issues that got buried in the process. It feels a lot like healing when I read her blog, but it’s still hard to express what that’s about.
On another note, and the last bit of unsolicited advice about grad studies, 36 is actually below average age for people starting PhD’s in practical theology here at my institution. Most are well into their 40’s.
You mean I have even more time than I thought to putter around with the PhDemon? Joy.
I was hoping to reach a “that ship has sailed” point soon, just so the decision can be made for me.
To bring this back to the fourth grade level:
What will she do when she gets divorced?