Plan B

I’m reading Anne LaMott’s newest book called, Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. I love Anne LaMott. She might be the only person I know of to write about faith and God and not want to make me gag on purile cliche’s and meaningless platitudes. Which might be why her non-fiction has outdistanced her fiction to be on the New York Times Bestseller lists. Operating Instructions might have been the best book about being a first-time mother I have ever read. There was nothing in there about “little angels” or “how wonderful mommyhood is” (note that I said “mommyhood” and not “motherhood” — I am quoting here), and there was a lot about how crazy you feel, how otherworldly newborns are and how surreal life becomes after having a baby. It was pure nectar to me. I get so sick of people talking about motherhood like it’s some kind of fairyland where little girls pick flowers and we all read Elmo together. I mean, the reality is that you’re tired, your baby likes to puke on you/pull your hair/head-butt you into oblivion and all the while you are sharing your body very intimately (I mean breastfeeding, where a small being pulverizes your nipples 8-10 times a day) and people love to talk about how special it all is, how wonderful babies are, what a blessing it is. I came from another world, called Planet Reality, where I dreamed of sleeping for 10 hours uninterrupted (still do!) and for Supernanny to come live with us, forever. Here’s a great quote from Anne LaMott’s latest book: “A few mothers sem happy with their children all the time, as if they’re sailing through motherhood, entranced. But up close and personal, you find that these moms tend to have little unresolved issues: they exercise three hours a day, or they check their husbands’ pockets every night, looking for motel receipts. Because moms get very mad, and they also get bored. This is a closely guarded secret; the myth of maternal bliss is evidently so sacrosanct that we can’t even admit these feelings to ourselves. But when you mention the feelings to other mothers, they all say, ‘Yes, yes!’ … ‘Do you ever want to throw yourself down the stairs because you’re so bored with your child that you can hardly see straight?’ ‘Yes, Lord, yes…’ Good therapy helps. Good friends help. Pretending that we are doing better than we are doesn’t. Shame doesn’t. Being heard does.” And for me, just hearing someone else talk about it is soothing, like lotion on dry, cracked skin. But most of all, I love Anne Lamott for another reason entirely — she is another Christian that believes in God, but not George Bush, and definitelynot the Republican Party. And if her comments on parenting are soothing, it’s nothing compared to her comments on politics. A great auther and a great book — check it out.