Thank You June Cleaver

What was June Cleaver really like? What happened when you turned off your TV and the door was shut to the Beaver household? June, so calm, so together, so available for husband and children, so willing to acquiesce. What happens when she's alone? Don't her kids ever whine, pout, and require things that she isn't able to give? Did she ever backhand Wally or the Beave after a couple too many martinis? In the pressure to be perfect, did she find herself alone at night staring into the mirror, mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick smudged and rouge too heavy? Did she ever imagine smothering her husband as he slept so soundly in the twin bed next to hers? Or how about hopping in the Ford, driving to Vegas, getting a boob job, becoming an exotic dancer and mistress to some seedy underworld crime boss? When the TV was shut down and middle class America faced itself, did she feel guilty about the facade she presented so charmingly, so convincingly, that a generation was beguiled into believing it not only a possiblity but a requirement? Well, from a product of the product of the 50's - Thank you June Cleaver.

First time for everything

When I was a teenager, 30 seemed quite grown up and sophisticated. I knew some thirtysomethings and they really had it together. 30 was independence at its best. I'm 30+ with 2 kids, a husband, a 1950's tract house in a flat suburban landscape often cinematically represented as the epitome of dullness, 2 cars, three cats, and a middle class income. And I ask myself, "How did I get here?". I'm a stay-at-home-mom who in my teens and early 20's was wild and crazy and swore that I'd NEVER be caught dead in an environment that was anywhere near the type that my parents were raised. Now I'm one step away from the minivan (toyota sienna or honda odyssey?), girl scout cookie chairperson and hand making all my older daughters valentines. (June Cleaver, my hero). I love my family and actually enjoy the comforts of home. However, my question is, "How do I define myself outside of parenthood? Am I more than a Mom?" I have not found a career that inspires me and by the time I finally finish school I will be a grandmother. How can I write this without whining and self-pity? I have a strong opposition to blogging and the general look-at-me-ism rampant in American society. This need for attention and fame highlighted and intensified by, what? Reality TV? The Internet? De-personalization of communication (e-mail is the best way to get a hold of me...caller id....text msging)? Whatever. I don't want to buy into it, yet "it" is becoming more than a normal way of existing. It IS existence. So, here I am, beginning a blog, becoming a blogger. Becoming a contributor to the demise of all I held on to as belief. But this is not for you. Or you. Or you. This is for me. A search for "what's next" and "what else" and "where to". There's a first time for everything. Stuck in my stories of suburbia and motherhood, I forgot how to jump off the cliff. 1, 2, 3...splash!