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viewsAmazing highs, and equally horrific lows of Motherhood, or where did the real me go
By Brenda G., Thursday, March 18, 2010, 2 commentsA good friend was telling me about her recent job and title change. She views it as a demotion. She is now a Mother. She went on to say she hasn’t slept solidly since the bundle came along. “All Maddy does is eat, poop, pee, belch, and BELLOW, a lot.” Her voice was trembling and I felt the panic come through the airwaves as she admitted she was losing her mind, and had no idea what the hell she was doing, and felt that she was slipping away. My heart went out to her. I remember last year when she was asking me about having a baby. Back then, I told her that having a baby isn’t about the cute baby Gap clothes, and it’s a lot of work. I didn’t reminder her of that conversation because back then I told her to get a dog instead. She ignored my suggestion. I listened and shared my best practices, but only because she asked me to. It is out of character for me to stand on a soapbox about being a mom because it’s a job that is as unique as the woman and the child, what works for me isn’t one size fits all for her, or others.
Here is what I know about being a Mom. It's a hell of a job, and most women under estimate the effort, me included. There are amazing highs, and equally horrific lows. It's similar to Buddha teachings, ying and yang, good and bad, positive and negative. I don't read books about parenting, and never compare progress notes with other parents because I signed a non-compete clause with my children at their birth. Finally, I assume that I will mess up their psyche up to some extent, but console myself with the knowledge that children are resilient and that mine will grow up in spite of any damage I unwittingly bestow on their innocent lives.
A lesson painfully learned was the inherent magic of the mundane, and oft overlooked and discarded, routine. I adhere as closely as possible to schedules. Kids of all ages love routines, it is their intangible cuddly blanket, without it, they are disoriented, with it, and your life is a sunrise over the Rockies in spring. I swear by this. Until I had kids, I was flaky, unpredictable, close to unreliable—accept professionally, but that is only because I hail from blue-collar roots and the Latin in me is too proud—after Caitlin was born, I taught myself to cultivate predictability. (My no-planning-wait-to-the-last-minute-go-with-the-flow attitude on life still makes my extended family manic. It's only in the last couple of years that my mom and sister accept me as I am).
Of course, sticking to a schedule doesn't mean being rigid, it means going with the flow and creating new routines as the child flows in and out of their own cycles of growth. There are weeks of amazing serenity when you and your child are simpatico and in harmony with mother earth and the instant love you felt the first time your eyes fell upon them is too big for even you to understand. But, and there is always a but, in a wink it all goes to hell in a hand basket, and you wonder why you didn't consider becoming a Carmelite nun. I'd like to say this erratic behavior will stop at their tenth birthday, but I dislike lying regardless of the reason, so I cannot.
What I can tell you is that as a woman with her share of drama, sadness, and the occasional hurt, I found my place in the 'family', the prosaic me that takes care of routines, grocery shopping, watching Star Wars with the boy, talking about catty girl friends with the girl, sharing books (this is the coolest ever, sharing Isabel Allende with Caitlin), and having a cooked dinner on the table by seven. The other me, my newly unveiled artist self, makes her place in the world every day. Sometimes it's a four in the morning, or at nine at night, or all day Saturday when I sit upon my bed with my laptop on my thighs with my nails tap dancing on the keyboard.
Now and again, the kids come into the room and say, "Non-existent mother," which is my cue to surrender to their needs. I lay the computer aside, as much as it pains me because whatever brilliant thought I had is lost, and listen to whatever they want to discuss. For the most part, it's an acceptable compromise, with both sides better for me finding my place in the family
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2 Comments
i loved this....thats what i
i loved this....thats what i fear most about being a mom someday...losing a sense of yourself and your individuality. its amazing to me that women sacrifice so much for their children!
It is a challenge, day in and
It is a challenge, day in and out. I think we have pockets of sanity, and other times it's tough. I think what has kept me moving over the years is my own growth, life struggles, etc., is a lesson I am teaching my children without having to teach.. showing not tell. Keep the faith, and find you anchor.
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