I grew up in a structured (read: rigid) household.  There were – and are, if you ask my mother – right and wrong ways of doing things.  For example, we didn’t eat Cheez Whiz or Marshmallow Fluff.  I couldn’t take peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to school every day just because I liked it and as a result, many years’ worth of tuna sandwiches end up in the bushes somewhere along the way to school.  Heaven forbid if we didn’t make our beds perfectly every morning before school.  I never dared to imagine what would happen if I didn’t, so I made my bed every morning with my orange quilt tucked in perfectly , graced by my matching pillow sham and a few stuffed animals.  Of course, only lazy people slept in on Sunday mornings.

I remember the day in 6th grade when my friend Pat arrived at school wearing a Tweety bird T-shirt over a long-sleeved blouse.  T-shirts over blouses became a trend and all the rage.  All the 6th grade girls were soon wearing them.  I wasn’t allowed to wear a t-shirt over a blouse because, well, it just wasn’t the right way to wear a t-shirt.  Pat spent many years living in Tibet and became a Buddhist monk.  I have no doubt that her free spirit and sense of adventure were nurtured by her wearing that t-shirt over a blouse in 6th grade.

What does all this have to do with being a working mother?  As a working mother I learned very early on that it’s important to pick your battles.  Cheez Whiz on toast?  Heck, if it means that child will eat a quick breakfast before school, then I’m all for it.  Battles worth fighting?  No candy in school lunches. But  I’ve been known to allow my children to eat ice cream for breakfast on a Saturday morning.  Why?  Because I’m the Mommy, and I can.  Wear shorts to school in January?  Of course.  Who am I to argue?  Who has time to argue?  I have to get myself dressed for work, make lunches, gather up everything for school and work, make breakfast, grab a cup of coffee, remember the vitamins and snack money and…you get the idea.  Wear socks?  Non- negotiable (it’s a school rule).

My sister has a wonderful story about her freshman year at college when her roommate offered her a taste of marshmallow fluff.  She called to tell me that – you know what? -  she liked it, and moreover, lightning didn’t strike her down dead for eating it.   I have my own version of the story that plays itself out every day.  In college, I made my bed every day.  Truth be told, it was no big deal, I just plopped my pillow at the head of the bed and pulled my duvet over it.  After college, when I entered the world of an independent twenty-something young working woman, I decided to go the subversive route.  I know that some people really love getting into a neatly-made bed every night.  Me?  I’m so grateful to have a comfortable bed to lie down in at the end of the long day, it makes no difference if it’s made up or not.  And so, in the interest of time and to spite my rigid upbringing, I stopped making my bed every morning.  That was about 25 years ago.  Now the only time I make it is when I have company coming and I think they might want a house tour.  Call me a slob or irresponsible or a poor role model to my children, but I call it liberating.

Breaking – and making – the rules has been liberating in that it has freed me from the rigid ‘shoulds’ of my childhood.  It has allowed me to be open, tolerant and accepting of others.  It has allowed me to discover things that I would not have discovered otherwise.  For example, if you allow the dishes to sit in the sink for an hour or so rather than clean them right away after dinner, you might actually have an extra hour of quality time with your children every night.  If you allow your children to sleep in on weekends, getting as much sleep as they need, and then watch TV in their pajamas until noon, they learn the value of just being, at home, with the family, not running, rushing, doing – just being.  Go ahead, let them eat ice cream for breakfast.  I promise, they will still pay attention in school, mind their manners, and respect you as a parent.

And so it has been many years of consciously confronting and dissecting  all the should’s and should not’s in life.  As any mother knows, as soon as you walk out the front door with a newborn child, everyone is waiting there, poised to tell you what you absolutely must do and how to do it, from relatives, to Mommy friends, to complete strangers.  The pressure to heed all this unsolicited advice (not to mention all the  should’s among the different philosophies of baby book authors) is enough to drive any sleep deprived woman completely over the edge.  Add returning to work into the mix and it’s a recipe for insanity or insecurity, or both.  (Neither of which, by the way, contributes in a positive way to raising a child or nurturing a marriage.)  You know better than you think.  Challenge all the ‘shoulds’ and question every ‘must.’   I’ll never forget when I finally got my first born daughter to eat sweet potatoes – for breakfast.  “Sweet potatoes aren’t for breakfast,” my friend said.  As I recall the conversation now, I think it was the first time that, as a parent, I realized that there is a time to break the rules if the rules don’t make sense to my mind or heart.  What could be better that sweet potatoes, packed with vitamins, for breakfast?, I thought.  (For the record, to this day, my daughter lives sweet potato fries and yes, I let her make them for breakfast.)

For all my talk about striving for and finding ‘balance’ in our busy working-mother lives, picking one’s battles is really right up there as one of the key factors in finding balance.  Picking your battles will make your life easier and breaking the rules will liberate you.  And if you’ve never before tried marshmallow fluff, I highly recommend it.  It’s amazing what a little subversive behavior can do at the end of a long day of working motherhood.