The Rewards of Motherhood

I often write about how hard it is to be a mother.   Recently, one of my best friends warned me of the dangers.   If I keep telling everyone how hard it is, I’m going to scare all the future mamas away. 

The rewards of motherhood are difficult to explain because the job is too complex and nuanced for simple words.  So I’ll just tell the story of a yoga class I went to on Mother’s Day.

Toward the end of the class, the instructor suggested we try a headstand.  With several blank stares from my classmates and me, she reminded us that success was achieved just by trying.  We should avoid comparing ourselves to our neighbor.  We need to let go of perfection or what we think it should look like.  

Now that’s good advice for anyone, especially mamas. 

So I decided to just focus on my own effort and try my best.  I started slowly.  I wobbled and doubted myself.  I cursed through several failed attempts. 

In the midst of this struggle, I could hear my own mom clearer than ever before.  Even with doubt, you are doing it right.  At your own way, at your own speed.   You are making positive progress by taking things inch-by-inch, day-by-day, and year-by-year.  You will only get better through practice and daily failures.  

I wanted to keep trying.  I wanted to spit in the face of fear.  

My legs trembled as they slowly rose over my head.   The process felt messy, wrong, and unnatural.   But I had found a way to do my best. 

Then in those three seconds where my feet remained above my head, I remembered a story that a coworker wrote on a Card at my mother’s funeral: 

“My fondest memory of Joan is when we were in yoga class together and it was time for the headstand!  Joan went right up against the wall and let out such a shriek that people thought she fell over.  We laughed all night over it!”  - L. 

My mother physically and emotionally had done this same headstand.   She had struggled and swore and sweated the small stuff through parenting.  She was brave in the attempt. 

And that’s how I’d sum up the rewards of motherhood, and life in general.   It’s the squeal of delight in knowing that even with your world turned upside down, you can do it.   

Sanity Check

I recently attended a retreat in Indianapolis hosted by the fantastic podcasters at NapTime Radio called Sanity Check 2016.  Over the weekend, I met a diverse group of moms from around the country searching for the same thing.  Sanity.

Each of us craved a reminder of our original selves - as well as the relief from the pressures of parenthood.  All of us were women first, moms second. 

For just a weekend, we wanted to have less responsibility, less worry, and more freedom to pee in private.   We needed a safe place to swear without poisoning little ears.  We wanted to talk over an extended brunch about ugly politics, challenging careers, or past relationships.  Some took the opportunity to stay out late.  Some just went to bed early.   There was no judging. 

These moms were not reckless in their pursuit of a weekend away.  I saw moms repeatedly calling home to ensure the carpool was organized and the kids were fed.   I’d argue these moms were taking more responsibility by attending to their own sanity.  We moms need to put on our own oxygen masks on before helping others.  No one works harder than a mom.  No one should play harder.

The sliver of original bricks at the Indy 500

On Saturday, the NapTime Radio team scheduled a tour of the Indy 500 speedway.  We learned that the original bricks of the racetrack were worn down over the years and replaced with new concrete.  Yet the track owner kept a sliver of bricks exposed as a reminder of the history of the race.  In the Indy 500, the driver who wins the race is encouraged to kiss the original bricks as a symbol of victory.

I could relate to that track.  I remain strong and resilient in the face of repeated wear and tear as a mom.   But just when the race feels too long, I come across that sliver of my own original bricks. 

Sanity Check 2016 reminded me that I could embrace my original self every once in a while.   There is no winning or losing in the race of motherhood.   There is just victory in being vulnerable and honest.   As moms, we need sanity.  And as women, we need each other.    Sanity – check! 

"Kissing the bricks!"

Parenting Pop Quiz

When I was pregnant, many people told me that parenting was hard.  

"Yeah, yeah," I thought.  I'm tough.  I got this.  

Turns out, parenting got me.  Or rather my ideals about proper parenting got me.   What I expected and what happens on a daily basis are wildly different.  

If you've ever wondered if you've got what it takes to be a parent, then here's a handy pop quiz.  If you can identify at least one thing wrong with each of these photos, then you are going to be a great mom or dad.  

Go ahead, you got this.  

QUESTION #1:

What's wrong here?  There are NO DOUGHNUTS in my cart!  Everyone knows that mothers of newborns are required to enjoy at least one Krispy Kreme an hour during those first weeks.  It feels a shame not to tell you this now.  Keep going.  

QUESTION #2:

What's wrong here?  Amelia is not a teenager, yet she already looks bored and annoyed with me! I can almost feel her eye rolling technique starting to form.  The only thing right about this moment is that I'm on a business trip during potty training.  

QUESTION #3:

What’s wrong here?   It’s a violation of the traditional parenting rule, “No pants, no problem.”   I mean, if he had pants, I’m sure he’d smile and agree to sit in the high chair, right? 

 

QUESTION #4:

What’s wrong here?  I only have two children, but about forty two sippie cups.  These evil cups magically multiply like bunnies.  But when I really need a clean one, I can’t find one.  Plus, none of them are actually spill proof.  Just warning you - these suckers are tricky.   

QUESTION #5:

What’s wrong here?  He’s cute, but he left too much evidence of his first ‘Five Finger Discount”.  If he’s going to steal all the salad bar food before we checkout, then at least he needs to make it less obvious.  Always remember to wipe the face and remove all pineapple from the shoe.  

 

QUESTION #6:

What’s wrong here?  There’s no whiskey in my coffee!  If you are going to have a toddler pull your hair while having a temper tantrum in public, you really should have strong liquor in your cup, or at least some cheap wine.   My bad. 

 

QUESTION #7:

What’s wrong here?  I'm unable to maintain good personal hygiene.  Good parents take a shower when their child sleeps.  My kid takes naps in the shower.   I clearly skipped the day they taught sleep and shower seperation in parenting class.   I know you can do better than me. 

 

QUESTION #8:

What’s wrong here (other than agreeing to go on a group camping trip with an infant)?  I can’t decide if it’s the proximity to wine bottles, sharp knives, bug spray, or hot coffee.  It’s probably the red bead necklace with my pink shirt.  Yup, that’s it.  My outfit totally clashes. 

 

BONUS QUESTION:

What’s wrong here?  NOTHING.  Everything is right about this picture.  Because when you survive a moment like this and live to laugh about it, then you’re going to make it in this parenting thing. 

Here’s the secret folks:  There are no right or wrong actions.  You are a good parent by just trying to be one.  There are days everything will go wrong.  There are moments everything will go right.  Everything else in between will just be funny….someday.

Leprechauns, Luck, and Loss

Earlier this week, my five-year-old daughter asked me about St. Patrick’s Day and leprechauns. I didn’t want to inadvertently start some new candy-infused tradition, so I dug into something rare with kids and holiday characters – the truth. 

“Leprechauns don’t bring you anything,” I said. 

“Nothing?!” she asked in disbelief.

“Well, sometimes they bring you luck,” I replied trying to appease her. 

She didn’t understand the concept of luck.  As I struggled to define the word, I started to think about my complicated relationship with luck through my life.

When I was younger, I thought I was really lucky.

Then when my mom got cancer, I questioned whether I was still a lucky person.  Her cancer started really small and insignificant.  Each time we thought she was cured, doctors told us there was only a small chance that it would return.  

I believed the harder I worked, the luckier I would become.  Fate was something I could control.   Yet my mom relapsed four times, despite all my research on new treatments, doctor visits, and hospital overnights.

During her illness, I was also single.  I thought I could change my luck in love by trying harder.  I participated in speed dating, online personals and set-ups from strangers.  But no magnitude of bad dates seemed to change things.  I was still single, and my mom was still dying. 

I felt pretty angry about how unlucky I felt.  I blamed God, fate, and myself.  I assumed maybe I had done something bad or wrong in life. 

But what I didn’t realize was that my struggles were not related to luck.  There were some things I could control, and some things I couldn’t.  Luck had nothing to do with it.

I was grateful to have my mom for all the years I did.  I was lucky to recognize what I wanted in a husband by learning what I didn’t want in one. 

Once I let go of my anger and expectations, I found gratitude in my struggles. 

No matter how much I try to shield Amelia, she will feel unlucky at some point in her life.  It’s my job to teach her how to find grace when she doesn’t get what she wants. 

I still believe in luck, I just don’t rely on it.  Life is full of delightful surprises and good fortune.  But when it doesn’t, I don’t blame the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow.  I look for my own gratitude somewhere in that cloud. 

Amelia trying her luck with a NCAA basketball bracket...

The Light that Never Goes Out

Yesterday was the anniversary of the day that my mom died.  I can remember gently holding her hand as she took her last breath, even thirteen years later.  Time has healed the wound, but the scar is still present.

For this thirteenth year, I struggled with how to define, or dare I say ‘celebrate’, this day.  It felt strange to do my daily activities blindly.

Go to work.  Buy groceries.  Pay bills. 

Is this respectful enough of the life she led?   Thirteen years ago at this moment I was not thinking about work, or meal planning or money. 

So I did what I thought reflected my values: gratitude, reflection, and honesty. 

Gratitude:  First, I let myself have uncomfortable moments.  I thought about what I lost.  I wondered how my life would be different if she was still here.  And then, in that painful valley, I remembered all that I had gained.  She taught me how to love with compassion, live with enthusiasm, and light up others.  She gave me perspective.   Her void was back filled with so many other people that make me grateful to be alive. 

Reflection: I lit a candle and let it burn all day as a constant reminder of her presence.  In the middle of making breakfast or cleaning dishes, mom was there, too.  Her brightness remained strong in the whirlwind of daily life.  When I came back from running errands, her light was still there - reminding me she’d always be at home waiting for me.

Honesty:  I told my co-workers about the symbolism of the day.  I told new friends who didn’t know my history.  And more importantly, I told my five-year-old daughter as she sat on the kitchen counter waiting for breakfast.

“Today is the day that my mom went to heaven,” I said with tears in my eyes.  

“Before she was a hundred?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, well before that.” I said, knowing she understood.   We hugged each other, and I let that emotion sink in so I could always remember it. 

I don’t know if I spent the day in the right way.  But the bigger question is whether I’m spending this life in the right way.  This anniversary is the reminder that my life needs to be more than the daily grind.  It’s a reflective, honest, struggle that I’ll chase the rest of my life.  And for that, I’m grateful. 

The Big Questions

We all have heard that being a mom or dad is not an easy job.   When I was pregnant, well meaning friends and strangers would gently rest their arm on my shoulder and sigh, “Whew, parenting is tough.” 

But no one told me what this really meant.  I assumed they were talking about a couple of sleepless nights, messy diapers, and a few extra expenses.   Yes, all these hardships occurred, but someone should have told me about the Big Questions. 

The Big Questions are the ones that can't be solved with naps or diaper genies.  They are the ever present worries born from fear and guilt, such as, ‘What’s best for my children?  Should I stay at home or work full time?  How much television is too much?  Is it safe to hire babysitters from the internet?  Am I too lenient or too strict?  What if I’m not really enjoying this?  Did I really just lose my temper?   Most days I just struggle with the most basic, yet profound, Big Question: 'Am I a good or bad mom?'.  

Each time I ask myself this question, I have to believe I'm on the right side of the answer.  It's a daily leap of faith to claim I'm a good mom, even on my bad days.   

But I'm learning this may not even be a fair question.  Being good or bad is not easy to measure, nor static in the ever changing role of a parent.  I just try to do the best I can.  It starts with trusting that my love for my children, even when I may not like them, is enough.  It's about having confidence in my instincts to make the right choices, however difficult.  And it's most definitely laughing at those parenting moments so bizarre that I wonder if I'm just getting pranked, like this one:

I should just learn to be more like them.  They don't seem to be worried about good or bad or anything.  They are not asking questions of themselves (clearly!).  And they probably think I'm a pretty good mom. 

Children know more than we think.  Maybe they do have all the answers.