This Post Is Not About Palin Or Obama

From an interview with Michelle Obama, beginning with her reminiscence of her first job as an attorney:

"'That was what you were supposed to do after going to a good law school: go to a big firm and make money. When you're a kid like me who paid for her education on loans, the idea of making more money than both your parents combined ever made is one you don't walk away from. Two years in, I was doing fine, enjoying it, but I wasn't bounding out of bed in the morning.'
In the summer of 1989, as the now-familiar narrative goes, Michelle was assigned to mentor a first-year Harvard Law student Sidley [her firm] had hired for the summer. She found the tall young man with the unusual name rather importunate; he kept asking her for dates. But when she learned about his life before law school, as a community organizer among laid-off factory workers in Chicago, she was impressed. Ice cream followed, then a Spike Lee movie.
Six months later, Michelle's beloved father died from complications of his MS. Around the same time, her best friend from college . . . died from lymphoma at [age] 25. The two blows in quick succession made her question her career. 'I thought, if I died tomorrow, is this what I want to have done with my life? And the answer was a resounding no!'

Everyone who spoke to me once during the campaign -- or read this blog, for that matter -- probably realizes how much Sarah Palin got on my nerves. What I didn't really say much about is that Michelle Obama also got on my nerves. The title of this blog is true, though, because I recently realized that neither Sarah nor Michelle are really the problem.

Don't get me wrong: Sarah Palin is still an undereducated, incomprehensible lightweight, and Michelle is still a little too insincere in her silence. But here's what's going on: it's the Danielle Steel effect.

Danielle Steel has written SEVENTY-FOUR bestselling novels. Every 10 years or so, I get one of them and start to read it, usually with an eye to figuring out how the *(^%! you write 74 bestsellers. The thing is, she's a terrible writer. Really, truly terrible. She's great at plot -- that's all she knows how to do, and it's enough for most people (apparently). But when I read the first few pages of one of her books, I get so annoyed I feel like setting it on fire -- because I should be the one writing for a living. I am SO much better at it. This petulant, self-important pity-party kicks into gear every time Danielle comes near.

I think the truth is (it's hard to admit this) Sarah Palin triggers the Danielle Steel effect in me. She's a terrible policy person. Really, truly terrible. She's beautiful, and she's great at the Joe Six-Pack stuff, although one can debate whether that's enough to write a bestselling campaign -- but it's enough for at least some people. It's enough to get to the ballot. When I see Palin on TV, or read about her in the paper, I get so annoyed -- because I should be the one doing that. I would be SO much better at it. I have gotten awards for oral argument and public speaking, I am authentically midwestern myself (I even have a little twang), and what policy issues I don't understand, I could learn with a couple of good briefing books and 24 hours. I'm no beauty queen, but I could get a stylist and a Neiman Marcus card and at least look better than Hillary Clinton. Lord knows I could hold my own with Katie Couric. And yet, she, not I, is the bestseller.

Michelle Obama is in some ways even worse for me. The quote above could have been taken from dozens of conversations I've had with friends. Heck, I even dated summer associates. But when I had my wake-up call (in my case, a bout with bleeding ulcers and other health problems), my solution was to downsize and step back, not to turn left and head a different direction. I didn't become an assistant to the mayor or head up a city agency. I looked for a job where I could work 4 days a week, where I could shift the focus of my life from career to family, relaxation and health. Well, I love and adore my family, and am proud of the fact that I created it, but I have achieved neither relaxation nor health, and 1 out of 3 isn't so great. And more than that, Michelle makes me doubt that I had the right idea. She makes me think that I should have found a calling instead -- that I should have continued to use my brain and my drive to achieve something -- anything.

I guess the point is, I watch Michelle Obama on the stump, and I think: I could be her. But I'm not. I think -- I know -- that this sort of thought occasionally haunts every woman who stays at home, or who puts her career on the back burner for reasons that are perfectly valid. For me, this path I chose is probably the only one I could have begun to maintain during the traumas of the past year and a half. I think it's okay, though, to sort of live with that discomfort. We really can't have it all -- at the same time. I know there will be other seasons in my life. This one doesn't have to be a Michelle/Danielle/Sarah moment. It's a Mama moment.