Yesterday I watched a really good episode of Oprah on mom confessions. She even had Dooce (famous mommy blogger) on there which is what caught my attention in the previews and made me set my Tivo for it. The show had, well true confessions from moms and what motherhood is really like; what no one ever really tells you about it. And no, it wasn't the whole "no one ever told me how much I would truly love my children" aspect of it either.
Seeing it made me reflect on what those first few years were really like for me; what I truly thought about them. So while feelings like "I can't believe I can love another person this much" were definitely there, I also had a bunch of "how did I get myself into this?" moments. I don't tend to get very personal on my blog, so be prepared for the mother load here.
I knew that motherhood would be challenging. Hadn't I, especially as a feminist, heard over and over again how hard it was to raise children? There was a part of me that just didn't believe it. Surely "they" were doing something wrong. I would do it right. Except that I didn't.
Those first few months, I would look back on my day and wonder where time had gone. It was already the evening and my biggest non-baby accomplishment would be loading dishwasher. Sometimes. Many times I didn't even have that accomplishment. Yet at the same time, I remember looking at the time and wondering how it could be 10 am when it felt like three whole days had already occurred in the span of the morning. When would the day end? I would look at it intellectually and be disgusted with myself that I had accomplished nothing. How hard was it to change a baby and give him a bottle? What was I doing with my time? What was I doing wrong?
I was very lonely at the beginning. I didn't know anyone else who had babies who lived close by and my family lived far away. When I thought about being a SAHM before kids, I assumed I would be like those moms I saw at the mall who were there with a friend sipping coffee while their kids play. I would say "park" but honestly before I had kids it had been probably over a decade since I had set foot in the park. I love to talk and I felt just plain isolated. I tried really hard to sign up for all sorts of baby classes not for my older son (OS) but for me. I needed it. I remember being at a new moms group and one of the mothers said she hadn't been there the week before because she child had been napping. I remember thinking so had OS but that's what those awesome bucket carseats were for and OS could sleep just in fine in that. I just couldn't afford not to go to my once a week parenting group because of nap; particularly since at that point it was the only baby class I was doing and that would have put me out from interacting with people during the day for two weeks.
Some of the classes were good, some of them were terrible and within a few months, I started to begin to get my feet a tiny bit more back on the ground. However, then came phase two, the competitiveness; unfortunately, the negative aspects of doing baby classes. All of the sudden I felt like I was in competition to be the best mom and it was a game in which I didn't even to participate. Obviously there was the whole breastfeeding issue, but there were also subtle little things like making sure OS had a nap at all costs or had a bedtime at all costs because torrential rains and storms of epic proportions would be upon the mother who did not take this aspect of parenting seriously. After all, that's what all good moms did. Good thing I wasn't in my new parenting class at this time or there's no way I would have put a sleeping OS into his carseat to leave.
There were other little things like making my own playdough, doing crafts, having a craft cabinet, going to parks, etc that I really disliked. At the same time though I felt like I was a bad mother if I didn't do those things. I remember thinking particularly parks and walks were the worst. We don't have sidewalks by us and so to go for a walk or to a park required packing up a diaper bag with every item known to mankind and lugging around the stroller in my car. Then there was bundling up OS or applying sunscreen during the summer, and seriously by the time I got to said park or for a walk I wanted a nap. You can probably guess how many times those trips happened.
We have an expression in my house that the Big Giraffe and I will say to each other. It goes as following: "Is this like frozen diced cooked chicken?" That was from my cooking phase where I felt like I needed to not only have homemade meals, but always have a well stocked freezer at the same time. The irony is, I'm actually a pretty good cook if I do say so myself. At this point in my life, I make all my own marinades, sauces and rubs. I cook simply, but everything is pretty much well seasoned and from scratch. I just couldn't do that though when I first had OS. One day the Big Giraffe came home to my find me crying. I had asked him to pick up dinner for us on the way home because no big surprise, I hadn't made dinner. He was alarmed that I was upset. All I could say was that I didn't have any frozen diced chicken (by which I meant chicken that I had cooked, diced and frozen myself). He was speechless. Why would we have that? I answered that I had been to a moms group meeting the night before where everyone said that you had to have it. Again with the torrential rains and storms. It was practically a necessity of parenthood like cases of diapers and wipes in your basement so that you'll never by left without a diaper and a child that has diarrhea.
To me though, cooked chicken breast was a meal. Why would I want to make another meal on top of it? After a few minutes, of crying I realized that it was ridiculous to be crying over diced cooked chicken and we got a good laugh out of it. Now that's our way of saying "Are you pretending to be someone that you're not?". For the record, the Big Giraffe told me that the day he found diced cooked chicken in our freezer was the day that he would insist on counseling because frozen diced cooked chicken is just not me.
I could go on and on about all the ways I've been surprised by motherhood. One of the authors of a book for moms on the show talked about realizing that she was over-scheduled in her effort to fit in with what everyone else was doing. At some point I realized that too and that I wasn't happy with the way I was choosing to spend my time.
It was definitely easier with my younger son. There is a reason my kids are 3 years apart and it's because I knew that I needed to have OS in preschool when YS was a baby. I won't lie and say it was easy. It wasn't. Sometimes I resented having to drive OS to preschool as much as I valued that one and one time with YS and to be really honest there was a part of me that really wished I could drop YS off with OS so I could take a nap. As much as I've loved that the biggest disappointment in our life is that one of my kids gets sick and we have to cancel a playdate, there is a part of me that feels guilty that part of what I enjoy about being a SAHM is not just the chance to be with my kids, but the fact that I don't have any deadlines or papers due. This is the first time in my life I haven't had that.
It has gotten better. My kids are a little more independent now. I realized I don't need to lug a huge diaper bag with me to the park. My kids aren't going to starve if they don't have a snack there and if the worst were to happen and they peed, popped or puked on themselves, it would be a stinky ride home, but we're talking 10 minutes not three hours. If the worst that happens is a naked kid car ride home, that's actually pretty good. Naked mom car ride is not so good at this point, but give me another few years! We also don't need a stroller at the park anymore and my kids are better able to understand that we can go to a park for a short period of time and know that we'll come back another time; better, not great. I can also sit on the bench at the park if I want while they run around and go down the slides. I still don't have a craft cabinet. I decided preschool was for crafts. It works well for us. Sometimes we do them, but more often than not we don't. A couple months ago I roasted a chicken and diced up the leftovers and froze them. It was nice to have, but so is just eating the roasted chicken leftovers the next day.
I yell at my kids way more than I would like and every morning I start the day off with the goal that I won't yell. More days than not, I make it, but sometimes I don't. I joke that at least my kids and the Big Giraffe will never have to look back and wonder what I was thinking when I was mad; they know. These past two years have been wonderful in so many ways. Aside from the " I can't believe I can love my sons so much" feelings and actually enjoying spending time with them, I've finally started to find myself again and I've taking a lot of pride with my triathlons, the books I read for myself, my blog and my more recent knitting. This is the happiest I've ever been. Yet that doesn't take away from the fact that in a fit of tiredness and PMS a few weeks ago I told the Big Giraffe that literally my biggest accomplishment since becoming a parent has been getting fat. Yes, I'm just about back to my pre-pregnancy weight but when push came to shove on my reflection of motherhood that was what came into my mind. Even I realized how ridiculously that was and started laughing right after the statement left my mouth and you know what came to both of our minds, "frozen diced cooked chicken".
Last week I was at McDonald's with my kids (yet another true mom confession) and YS hurt his finger. OS said, "Come here, honey and let me see it." Then he gave YS's finger a kiss. In the moment I saw myself since that's what I always say to the kids. He took my good parts. If I could give one piece of advice to new parents it would be that. No matter how badly you feel you're doing as a parent, you're doing something right too and you're kids will take that with them.
I adored this post! I think that, except for the knitting part, you could be my soul sister! I don't have a craft cabinet, either, and the last time I tried to bond with my five-year-old by making pancakes together, I burned them and blamed it on her.
But I love what you said about them remembering the good parts, and I really hope it's true. When I told my mom about the pancake disaster, she reminded me of the great Easter Egg Coloring Debacle of 1978, during which my brothers and I had her so agitated, she required a stiff drink immediately afterwards. Except I don't remember that part at all.
I hate to be a naysayer, but i hated that Oprah. I thought it was a whole bunch of whinnying with nothing of constructive. Of course parenthood is hard! But what can we do to make it easier. Don't you a a minivan? Don't get one!
Good post. I think it is good to acknowledge the weird competitiveness that can come out of parenthood. next time I'm over, though, I expect some frozen diced cooked chicken!
I started reading your blog a few months ago, but first time comment. Great post. I have 14 month old twin boys. Let's just say that A LOT of this rung true for me. By the way - I used to run. And your blog has helped my inspiration to start training for a marathon. Keep up the good work!
It is a lovely post, Alex, my dear. I am impressed with how very well you've expressed my own experience. I think it's another of those universal experiences really, but while we are in the midst of it (and actually, it never ends) we feel like we are the only ones to face it. Well spoken, well said, well done!
Professional Mom of two cats, a dog, an ant farm, and oh yeah...two boys: a 5 year old and a 3 year old. Also found in my house is my husband who is known on this blog as The Big Giraffe.
For those of us who didn't get an instruction manual with our babies and for whom parenting hasn't always gone as planned. On a more serious note this blog is about supporting a woman's ability to make her own choices about parenting including the choice, for whatever reason, to bottle feed her babies formula.
I adored this post! I think that, except for the knitting part, you could be my soul sister! I don't have a craft cabinet, either, and the last time I tried to bond with my five-year-old by making pancakes together, I burned them and blamed it on her.
But I love what you said about them remembering the good parts, and I really hope it's true. When I told my mom about the pancake disaster, she reminded me of the great Easter Egg Coloring Debacle of 1978, during which my brothers and I had her so agitated, she required a stiff drink immediately afterwards. Except I don't remember that part at all.