MOMS EVERYWHERE, I SALUTE YOU!
A good friend of mine taught me years ago that it’s ok to speak the truth about being a mom, even when the world tells us that we should make it look effortless. When I had my first child, it felt taboo to talk about all of the dark and deeply frustrating parts of motherhood. I felt that if I wasn’t winning at momming, I should at least pretend that I was, even to my closest female friends. A brave friend of mine who was also a mom showed me a different way to express motherhood: with the truth. She was open and courageous enough to share the difficult, scary and frustrating parts of being a mom, alongside all of the joyful, wonderous parts that are so much easier to talk about. Her stories and observations made gasp and laugh out loud. They also gave me hope that I could feel all of it- nervous, overjoyed, resentful, scared, delighted, often all in the span of a single afternoon, and still be a good mother.
My brave, wonderful friend gave me the gift of safety. I could share all of my upside down, inside out moments as a mom, without the fear of being judged. Like when my son was born and I couldn’t figure out the diapers. I spent days with him whizzing out the side of his diaper, trying to figure out why all of these Huggies were defective and leaking. Turns out you have to point it down before closing up the diaper. Who knew? Then there was the mortifying moment while I was changing him yet again and he grabbed his poop and tried to put it in his mouth. How in the heck did he get up in the business so fast? He was like a wiggly, four-armed Ninja! There were also the truly scary moments, like when my daughter was a toddler and took off out of the car rental place and almost ran in front of a bus. I had an armload of luggage and screamed for my husband to grab her. He managed to just in time. There were also confounding a deeply frustrating experiences, like when I spent an hour locked away in a bathroom at Children’s urgent care, cajoling my three-year-old to pee in a cup. All the juice boxes in the world weren’t going to get that kid to pee into the special potty. Whatever happened, or however I was feeling, I was able to tell at least one person about all of it, without the filters.
My kids got older, and the challenges changed. I started wishing that they couldn’t form full sentences yet in order to tell me, “I hate you anyways and you’re just ruining my life!” I guess when you’re ten, life does revolve around watching more Pokemon videos on Youtube. There have been days when they bring me to my knees, and times when I feel like I just couldn’t stand listening to one more argument or cleaning up one more mess. Over time, I didn’t just share openly with my one brave friend. I started sharing with all of them. And the moms in my life started sharing back. It no longer felt taboo to share that I was often way out of my depth and hanging on by a thread.
Being a parent is the hardest and most humbling thing that I’ve ever done. I want to be great for them. I want to be kind and inspiring and wise. Mostly, I’m just loving and imperfect and hopeful. I have to accept over and over again that I mess things up, and then I have to keep trying. I strive to accept all of the horrible that comes with the wondrous and joyful. Ten years in, I still feel like a novice. But I have grown. I’ve also learned some deep truths along the way:
Mothering is not martyring. I’ve realized that when I act the martyr and ignore all of my own needs and wants, I’m worse at parenting, rather than better. I end up being less present and more snappish. I have less energy. Not to mention, I’m miserable. It’s better to take the time I need for the things that recharge me- time with friends, exercise, meditating and reading. These are the things I need to be a good mom. I do them in service of myself and also of my family.
My kids don’t need perfect. I want to give my kids everything they need. I want to have all the answers and always keep my cool and set a great example. In short, I want to be perfect. But I’ll never be a perfect mom, and my kids don’t need perfection. What they need is a real example of someone who tries hard and often gets it wrong and loves herself anyways. The less time I spend judging my parenting imperfections, the more time I have to be loving and present for my children.
It’s ok to ask for help. Somewhere along the way to becoming a woman, I picked up the idea that we should do it all ourselves. Don’t ask me where this came from. Or how long it has taken to unwind it! I’ve learned over time that I’m better when I ask for the help that I need, rather than suffering in silence. Refer to bullet number one, mothering is not martyring! It’s ok for me to feel overwhelmed and ask my spouse to step in. My in-laws are amazing at helping with my kids and teaching them new things. My mom knows just how to comfort me when I’m feeling down about parenting. My kids benefit from having all of these wonderful friends and family to contribute to their upbringing.
Being a mom has been especially hard these past twelve months. It’s taken resilience and creativity that I wasn’t even sure I had. I’m grateful for the opportunity that Mother’s Day brings, to recognize the amazing mothers in my life. They are fierce and determined. They are tender and wise and so, so patient. They are also messy and imperfect. As a mom, I’m all of those things too. And it’s beautiful.
Mothers, Aunties, Grandmothers, I salute you! I’m humbled and inspired by you. Happy Mother’s Day!
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