Free Church of the Dog by Kaya McLaren

like it would be best for the kids.”
    Mara throws a couple handfuls of water at the stove in the sauna to steam things up. “Double-edged sword for women,” she begins. “On one hand, they were materially provided for, so they could full-time parent; on the other hand, it seems many had to tolerate being treated like servants, becoming invisible, or being abused.”
    “Sure, for some the arrangement didn’t work, but for most I think there was mutual appreciation. Men and women did different things. There was no competition. There was appreciation. We had fewer choices, but I think it was easier,” I explain.
    “Now I guess it’s more extreme,” she says. “There are more women extremely worse off, and there are more women extremely happier than they would’ve been in that arrangement. I think in that day I could’ve never been an artist like I am now. Babies are so much work. They don’t leave room in your life for much else, though from what I observe, you love them so much, you don’t mind. . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what I truly want. I wonder if creating art is really just a pathetic substitute for creating life, you know? All that creative energy cookin’ inside me with nowhere to go. Maybe the whole reason I think it’s so much more fun to be an artist than a mom is that I’ve never really allowed myself to think about what it would feel like to be a mom . . . that new level of love other women try to tell you about. On occasion I allow myself to entertain the idea for about five seconds. Then I’m left feeling sad about not being a mom, and it strikes me as so unnatural that I haven’t had a child. You know, like what other animal has no offspring nearly twenty years after reaching sexual maturity? And then I feel angry that I’m choosing not to be a mom because if I ever decided to be a mom, I’d probably have to raise that child all by myself. It seems like being a mom should be our biological entitlement, and yet, because it takes so much to attain the standard of living we are expected to have, we have come to see being a full-time mom as a privilege.” She suddenly seems self-conscious at having gotten so intense. “So what can you do? Become a teacher and borrow other people’s kids.” With that she tries to lighten things up.
    I don’t buy her idea about women today thinking that being a full-time mom is a privilege. “I think women don’t want to stay home with babies. I think money is just an excuse. I think the truth is, being a stay-at-home mom is the hardest thing they’ve ever done, and they want nothing to do with it. They can’t get out of their houses fast enough,” I declare.
    “Do you think respect plays a part in it?” Mara asks. “Do you think moms are less respected now, so working that hard for no respect is contributing to moms not wanting to do it?”
    “Hm . . . I don’t think it’s even recognized what it takes to raise a child. All these people asking mothers if they work. What is that all about? They have no idea. No recognition, no respect, and no idea,” I state.
    Mara nods as she thinks. We are quiet for a while, and then she says, “I think I still prefer my choices.” There is another pause. “But I do see a lot of others overwhelmed by the same choices and getting lost.”
    “I guess too many choices or too few choices can make a woman feel lost, depending on the woman,” I say, thinking of my friends, some who did have dreams outside of family, dreams they never even dared to tell their husbands about.
    “Hm,” she says in agreement.
    “Just seems like back then mothering was enough. Now no one gives a flying hoot about mothering. All men care about these days is money. They want their women to bring home money.”
    “Hm . . . somewhere the choice became obligation?” she questions.
    “Used to be, we were valued just for being women.”
    “Do you think women lowered their expectations of men and let them off the hook, or do