S'mother Love

Two nights ago, I said to my husband, "I just want to go to bed early so I can get up to go to the gym at 5:00!". This statement came as we listened to Elisabeth cry outside her bedroom door. It was 9:15. I hesitated going in because I knew I'd be trapped, cramped into a twin bed beside her, until she fell asleep. Waffling for another half minute, I finally went in.

One of the biggest challenges that I have as a mom is reconciling my needs with what my daughter needs. Almost three, Elisabeth reacts strongly to certain situations, seemingly without rhyme or reason, and in turn, I feel frustrated and resentful. This is certainly normal and par for the course for the age. And yet, I should be able to pee when I need to...or go to bed early...or leave the house wearing the shoes I'd planned to. Should. Because no matter how good your planning or intentions, things can sometimes come to an agonizing halt when an older toddler lives in your house. 

"I think I can, I think I can..."

When you're determined to do something you desperately want, it can be almost physically painful to not be able to do it. As a mom, I feel like I've been in that spot a lot recently. And no, it's not impossible to get up at 5:00 for the gym if you go to bed late. But I work hard not to scrabble through days, living from a place of personal deficiency. Less than seven hours of sleep is too little for me if I need to get up at 5:00. I know that. It's too little and it's also not sustainable. 

So, what do you do? Two nights ago, I gave up. I went into her bedroom and hoped for a speedy exit. I was lucky. But other times, I haven't been. Not being able to depend on luck, I have to fall back on options. I always have those. One option is to ask for help from my husband before I get to the resentful stage. Having a second person step in to distract, soothe the wound-up child can be a gamechanger for everyone's mood. Another option is to do it anyway: go to the bathroom, deny her chocolate, wear the shoes I'd planned, even if Elisabeth is having a breakdown about it. I won't let her sob, gasping for breath alone in the dark but I will eat when I'm hungry, dammit!

Even if the littles in our lives don't get it, we moms have certain rights. I may not have the right to go to the gym when I please but I do have the right to eat breakfast. But let's not confuse those rights with self-care! Breakfast isn't self-care; it's our right as a working mom who needs energy to care for her children. How we choose to claim those rights is up to us. Like so much else with children, this is another "pick your battle" type-adventure.

What options do you have that you aren't exercising?

{new post} How a bathroom can be a vessel for voice

I've wrote before about life's invisible work, those acts of mothering that are unremarkable, everyday. We do them all day long and don't think too much about them. Nothing super important...unless you count the care and attention to your baby's thriving and good health as important. ;-) I was reminded of another example of life's invisible work recently: the search for a changing table when you have a baby.

I visited Northgate Mall in Durham yesterday in search of a watch battery. While the kind people at Shama Jewelry were changing the battery, I headed to the bathroom. I found them closeby, near the food court. There were two, both labeled "family restroom" and while I didn't have Elisabeth with me, there was no one waiting so it didn't feel like a big deal. The only real difference is that those restrooms have changing tables. Well, they're supposed to. 

We've all been here, right? You have to pee but you also know your baby needs to be changed. Finally, a sign that says "yes, both can happen here," and then you open the door.

Yes, you're right: that's large empty space is where the changing table should be.

I didn't have a wet or stinky baby with me but I was still angry! How in the world is this okay? 

Moms have enough to deal with.

Even if this "removal" just happened, it should be dealt with in a more compassionate way. How about a notice on the door as a heads-up? How about a sign or apology where the changing table was, explaining what had happened? Something, anything, other...than just an angry cloud of frustration and disappointment.

What's that saying? You're not paranoid; everyone is out to get you. Haha. Though between the stress of traveling with breastmilk or a pump and the "little" things not being able to count on even a changing table in a "family" restroom, it does feel like moms are sometimes treated like second class citizens in our world. We are generally the ones keeping the future leaders of the world safe, productive and happy, aren't we? Seems like moms could at least merit a sign on a door.

I'll call Northgate. And maybe this will be fixed. Sometimes, though, it's less about the end result and more about using our voice. Because moms do merit a sign on the door. But if we don't speak up about that, even though it's obvious, it's unlikely ever to change. Sure, your boss may just decide to give you a raise but you're more likely to get one if you make the case for one and actually ask for one. If this feels uncomfortable, you're not alone. It's hard to ask for what we deserve. (Although it's often easier if we ask on behalf of our child or someone else). But a public bathroom is as good a vessel as any for turning on that public voice that deserves to be heard and heeded. Your voice matters.

Stay tuned. Thanks for reading.

PS. If this article resonates with you, I hope you'll share it!  And if you're a mom of a toddler, I invite you to join my Toddler Group starting in December. Voice, identity and self-care will all be themes of that 3 month group.

{new post} The Good (Enough) Mother

The above image is my daughter drinking from her water table. The good news is that I had *just* filled up the table. The bad news is that she likely would have drank it even if the water wasn't fresh. In case you were wondering, yes, she's been drinking bath water too. But I'm not going to sweat it. 

Perfect isn't going to happen with me. Rationally I know that I can't be flawless. But occasionally, and more often than I'd like to admit, I shoot for it. I make an amazing nutritious dinner, vacuum the house and change the dogs water during nap.  I wash Elisabeth's hair more than once a week and attempt to comb it immediately afterwards. I wait for my husband to start talking about his day before I dive into mine.

Most of this doesn't last longer than a few days. 

But I'm not going to aim for perfection or even "excellence" as a mother. Perfection is the enemy of "good enough". And damn, I want to be a good enough mom before I want perfection...for many reasons, not least of which is good mental health. But I also don't want my daughter to see a "perfect" mother. Someone who never fails publicly, admits she made mistakes, reverses her position on anything and then wonder why she, aka the star of her mother's universe, doesn't measure up. Perfection is the silent killer of trying new things and admitting they didn't work. And I always want my child to try new things. At 2 years old, she is truly "the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more," and I want that boldness to continue. Perfection will tamp it will down and lock the door.

And here's something else about perfection: even if the attempted pumpkin bread does turn out delicious this time, something else will inevitably happen next time or the time after that to throw a curveball into the batter. Because that's life. We can't control everything including our wishes or our child's. You can be the mom who dreams of pushing your child on a playground swing only never to do so because he hates it. You can be the parent who does all the research on an issue and your child blows it all out of the water because there is no one else like him in the world. 

So, what do I do about this silent enemy, perfectionism? I make it up as I go along. I try something new and see if it sticks. I adjust my standards and take a breath.  I come to terms with hair washed once a week because that's who Elisabeth is right now. And unless we have a lice epidemic break-out, why force her to submit to this if I don't have to? I'm trying to let go of non-essentials, practice gratitude for everything that I have and go to bed early. 

Most of the time.

And when I'm not making it up, I mentally mull over judgement calls all day long about whether or not it's worth telling my daughter "No!" or cautioning her against something.  She who remembers mine and my husband's words, as your child does too. Is my "no" about me and my perfectionist tendencies or is it really what's best for her? Most of the time, my "no" seems to be the former. Like when I'm hustling to get her into the car and she's watching a cat crossing the street. My "no, we don't have time for that," is about ME. It's my fault we are running late because I shouldn't have tried to make cookies, do another load of laundry, and clean up the toys on the floor before we left the house.  That's the crazy-making and anxiety-inducing behavior behind perfectionism.

Every day we are teaching our babies something. And the unreal thing is that it is often invisible. The invisibility factor makes mothering all the harder. So let's not create more work for ourselves, moms. Let's give up the pursuit of perfect for good enough, do the best we can, and love everyone around us.