Darcy's Journal

• work (I need to put in at least 3 hours today, but 5 would be preferable)  3 down - maybe 2 more later?
• watch video lectures for my lactation counselor course (actually totally easy to pay attention to, and I can work on my sewing project while I watch) - I'm still probably behind on this but I watched a couple of hours worth
• laundry laundry laundry laundry- still need to put away the kids laundry and wash diapers

• work out
• go through the stacks of paper/mail/bills that have collected in the office and on my desk
• pay the bills (non urgent as nothing is due right now, but good to get ahead of things)
• do some reading for school

• organize Joseph's artwork from school
• work on sewing my new rags (more on that another day)
• play with my new mop (I know that it's sad that this is in my fun category)

*Notably, many mothers have a weak Purse Gene and, possibly because it is overshadowed by the comparatively blinding Adorable Cloth Diaper Gene. I love a cute cloth diaper as much as the next mommy, but I let my daughter shit in her diapers so I have given up keeping a collection of gorgeous and pristine dipes.

This weekend I participated in a DONA training workshop. A doula, for those of you out of touch with new words for old things, is a woman who provides emotional and physicall support for a birthing through the process of labor, delivery, and care of a new baby. For me, this is a step on my road to becoming a midwife. I am very excited.

Matt took care of the kids Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all day while I was in the workshop. On Friday he even did all the evening care on his own so I could go out to a movie with Jen and Amy. Let's hear it for the boy.

It is January, 2008. I have a gorgeous new baby, a thriving toddler, the best husband in the world and we are mere days away from the season premiere of LOST. I mean, really, does life get much better than that?

Sometime late in the month our satellite television stopped working. Matt spent a long time on the phone with DISH them diagnosing the problem, futzing with the satellite dish on our roof, and resetting the receiver more times than I could count. Eventually, they conceded that some piece of equipment (I don't remember if it was a dish or the receiver) was broken and that they would have to come replace it.

The servicemen came a few days later but they did not have the equipment. We asked them to stay while we contacted DISH. The phone representative at DISH confirmed that there had been an error, but they could get the service folks back to us in a week. Two days after the LOST premiere.

No. Unacceptable.

DirecTV had a great introductory deal and could have our service up and running in 3 days. I was sold. Sign me up. We called DISH and canceled our service citing their inability to keep it up and running for us.

DISH wanted to keep our business and offered us things like a few months of free service, upgrades, and such. Still, they were not going to be able to get us up and running before DirecTV so I said, "No. Please delete all of our information: phone numbers, credit card numbers, address, everything. We are no longer your customers."

Fast forward to February of 2009. I was reviewing our credit card statement. I had idly noticed some charges from "DISH Network" over the last few months but I had registered them as the charges for our satellite service. Suddenly it hit me that DISH is no longer our provider. I checked and they had started charging us $32.99 a month in October. They had racked up about $150 in charges before I even noticed. Matt called and talked to someone who told him they could refund half of the charges. I screamed, "Hell no. You lose. Now you have to deal with _me_," took the phone from Matt, and let my bitch out. I told them that I regarded the charges as theft and that they needed to refund the full amount immediately. We went over the story a few times until the guy was fully convinced that there was no reason and no good explanation for the charges. He gave me his name and employee number and said we could expect to see the refund in 5 to 7 days.

That was 2 1/2 weeks ago and we've gotten nothing.

I called them again today. I explained this situation to the unfortunate woman who answered the phone. She insisted on talking to Matt to be sure that I was authorized to represent the account. What account? There should not even be an account! I gave Matt the phone and overheard the woman on the other end telling him that they would not be able to refund the charges.

"FUCK NO," I yelled and took the phone from Matt (again), and asked to speak with the representative's supervisor. I was asked to give the entire history again. I did, as calmly as possible. He said that because the account was closed, they could no longer issue refunds for my payments. At some point I demanded he stop calling them "payments" saying, "The word 'payment' implies that I willingly gave you money, presumably in exchange for goods or services. What you did was stealing. So, when you talk about the incidents where money went from me to you, I'd like you to say, for example, 'When we stole money from you in October.'" He kept telling me that we had authorized DISH to charge our credit card. I kept telling him that was in 2003 and our account was closed in January of 2008. There was a lot of yelling. I asked for his supervisor.

This third person was a woman who gave me her fake name and a direct phone number which I can use should I want to follow up with her. So, fake Arlene asked me to detail the story _again_ which I did as calmly as possible. She reiterated that they could not refund our payments and I lost my shit. "They're not payments. Stop calling them payments!" I reiterated that there was no justification for them even _having_ my credit card number, let alone charging it. Eventually she conceded and told me to expect a refund in 5 to 7 business days. "How do I know you're not lying like the last guy?"

"You'll just have to trust me. Whether or not you trust me is your choice."

Nothing personal, Arlene, but I do not trust you. I'll check in with you tomorrow.

I believe in gentle, attached parenting. I believe that children will thrive in an environment where they are secure in the love of their family and where they can explore and grow without fear of random retribution for their “childish” behavior. There are a slew of terms that refer to parenting styles related to these assertions: Attachment Parenting, Consensual Living, Natural Parenting, Non-violent Parenting, and Unconditional Parenting. There are books and groups and online message boards and T-Shirts – countless ways and places to declare your intentions to be the “crunchiest” mom on the blog and to get support on that journey. Roam the message boards and you will find a whole slew of threads that start with something like this:

“My husband brought home a bright red plastic toy for Windyrainbow! How could he do that?”

And devolve into:

“Sometimes you have to take control and stand your ground. Don’t let your plastic-tolerant husband keep you from being the best mother you can be!”

That is the goal, right? To be the most attached, most natural, most consent-seeking, most peaceful parent? It’s all about me being the best mother I can be! Right?

No, it’s not. The goal is to allow my children (remember them? the children? those people I pushed out of my vagina?) to grow into independent, healthy, happy, successful people and, hopefully, great citizens of the world. To that end, I do make decisions as a mother that don’t fall into the canon of the Holy Mothers of Granola. For example, when Joseph turned 3 I decided I was ready to potty train him. I looked at lots of books and websites and _everything_ I read told me that he was Not Ready. He was still waking up wet from every nap. He didn’t care At All if his diaper was poopy. He never took off his diaper on his own or showed signs that he was going to the bathroom. He had not asked to use the lovely potty I bought him. Despite all of that, I removed his diaper on a Monday morning and allowed no clothing to touch his butt, day or night, until he was using the potty expertly. We spent an entire week at home, making sure that he had made the full transition before risking damage to his car seat or stroller. I fed him M&M’s and put up a sticker chart. Why? Because I believed he could do it and that I could help him. I was ready and he was capable. My instincts told me this was the way to do it and I was right. There were very few tears and a lot of excitement and pride. He accomplished the huge task of developing an awareness of his potty needs and taking care of those needs on his own. It may not have been his choice to start the journey, but I took my opportunity, as his one and only mother, to guide him down that road to success.

I refuse to deny my children the joys and sorrows of growing up so that I can be a certain kind of mother. This is their life. Their journey. My family, yes, but their precious childhood.