My kids are always asking to measure themselves on our measuring wall. Even if I just made a new pencil mark last week... they want to see if they're growing as fast as they think they are. Often times they react with disbelief if they haven't shot up an inch in the past seven days. But then they look at me (with pity) and say, "That's right. You don't grow either."
Well, what they don't know won't hurt them, I guess...
In the past year I've grown more than my kids could ever imagined. I've transitioned from a stay at home mom to a part-time working mom to a full-time working mom, and what a transition! My years as a full-time at home parent were so valuable -- but they couldn't have prepared me for the confidence I feel, the sense of growth in this new part of my life.
But with growth sometimes come growing pains.
At first, when I started working full time, I had a lot of guilt about not being 'there' for my kids. And by not being there, I mean having a babysitter for my kids during the two hours of the day they weren't in school. Trust me -- those two hours had me missing my crew like crazy. The toughest part, though, was not being sure whether I could trust the care they were receiving, because let me tell you, the 'day care' experience was rough. My kids encountered all the things I didn't want for them.
That's why I'd stayed at home for so long. No one could care for my kids, could understand them like I could. At the worst times, the (horrible) babysitter would refer to my children as "my kids". I would correct her; No. They're MY kids.
It was tough. I had a friend who asked me over a casual lunch one day how I could live with myself, abandoning my kids. Mom-judgment. From someone I trusted.
Then there was the re-adjustment to professional life. The learning that only comes from experience; learning that business is business and openness and friendship aren't always returned. I'll admit, the ups and downs of the office involved a learning curve that was wholly unique.
But there have been bright spots. I have become friends with people I never would have known otherwise. I have learned to stretch myself, challenge myself, to be willing to take on more than I can handle comfortably, to try new things and build new skills. I am working with people I respect, and who show me respect in return.
As I've helped my kids (and defended them) through the struggles of this year of transition, I have seen them become tougher, more resilient, more self-reliant and more cohesive as brothers and sisters. Family has come to mean something -- a uniquely safe place that the pressures 'out there' can't touch.
My daughter has come to understand that her mom is strong. Not just loving or understanding or fun. And that even when I'm exhausted or stressed, I'm never too overwhelmed to love her more than anything else in my life. I have seen her develop a strength of her own, and it amazes me.
Personally, I have found that my return to the workforce has given me something that motherhood alone was hard-pressed to provide. Confidence. An intellectual challenge. An identity of my own.
Maybe it's just a new life stage. But it's one I like and love.
So the next time one of my kiddos decides to sidle up to the measuring wall, maybe I'll consider taking a turn. Who knows what I might find?
- Midwest Mom
Showing posts with label maternal guilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maternal guilt. Show all posts
Monday, July 16, 2012
Monday, August 10, 2009
Guilt
Oh, what a morning.
Somehow, I managed to upset all three of my children at one time or another this morning before school.
What is it about the transition from the easy summer mornings of pajama playtime and breakfast by 9:00 a.m. to the hustle of the 6:30 alarm, uniforms, bookbags, packed lunches, and tardy slips that turns me from the fairy-godmother-mom to wicked-stepmother-mom?
On school days, my children call my hairspray "grouch spray". It was true this morning. They all agreed I was a grouch, first class.
Thank goodness for their Dad, though. At breakfast, he made sure to give each child a hug and kiss and tell them how nice they looked. He brought a smile to their faces.
I wondered whether he was playing good cop-bad cop. Or good-parent bad-parent. I was conscious of the fact that I could have crabbed at him, too, for showing me up. In the end, though, I didn't mind. At least one of us had his priorities right this morning.
I spent a little quiet time on the way to school, thinking gloomily about missing them while they were gone. And I regretted being grouchy as a means to get them out the door on time.
I did my best to make it up to my boys by leaving them with an extra hug and kiss. They left the car with smiles on their faces, but it didn't help the feeling I have that I wasn't fair to them this morning.
I guess that's the reality of motherhood. Sometimes things don't go according to plan. Sometimes, I'm not the ideal parent I hope to be. I make mistakes; I'm impatient or crabby or hot-headed. And afterward, I feel guilty.
So, this afternoon, when the boys come home, I'll take the time to apologize. And I'll try to make the evening as positive and nurturing as I can.
At the end of the day, I hope that's the part they'll remember.
- Midwest Mom
Somehow, I managed to upset all three of my children at one time or another this morning before school.
What is it about the transition from the easy summer mornings of pajama playtime and breakfast by 9:00 a.m. to the hustle of the 6:30 alarm, uniforms, bookbags, packed lunches, and tardy slips that turns me from the fairy-godmother-mom to wicked-stepmother-mom?
On school days, my children call my hairspray "grouch spray". It was true this morning. They all agreed I was a grouch, first class.
Thank goodness for their Dad, though. At breakfast, he made sure to give each child a hug and kiss and tell them how nice they looked. He brought a smile to their faces.
I wondered whether he was playing good cop-bad cop. Or good-parent bad-parent. I was conscious of the fact that I could have crabbed at him, too, for showing me up. In the end, though, I didn't mind. At least one of us had his priorities right this morning.
I spent a little quiet time on the way to school, thinking gloomily about missing them while they were gone. And I regretted being grouchy as a means to get them out the door on time.
I did my best to make it up to my boys by leaving them with an extra hug and kiss. They left the car with smiles on their faces, but it didn't help the feeling I have that I wasn't fair to them this morning.
I guess that's the reality of motherhood. Sometimes things don't go according to plan. Sometimes, I'm not the ideal parent I hope to be. I make mistakes; I'm impatient or crabby or hot-headed. And afterward, I feel guilty.
So, this afternoon, when the boys come home, I'll take the time to apologize. And I'll try to make the evening as positive and nurturing as I can.
At the end of the day, I hope that's the part they'll remember.
- Midwest Mom
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
When Mommy Gets Sick: Guidelines for Self-Care
My family has been battling colds & flu (no swine flu, though - oink) for the last two weeks. I have dutifully played Dr. Mom, waking in the night to administer medicine, driving 40 minutes to our pediatrician's office as many times as is necessary, cooking special foods like homemade chicken soup, and keeping track of who is at which stage of illness at any given time.
But bad news came last night in the form of aches and exhaustion. Mommy has finally succumbed to the germs.
Like all moms, I am tempted to just medicate and plug on. But if the recent flu scare has taught us anything, it is that sick people should slow down instead of pushing it.
Why is that so tough for a mom? Or is it just me?
I remember years ago when I was growing up, my Mother got sick only very rarely. But what a time we had getting her to rest and take care of herself! She would continue cooking and cleaning and shuttling kids here and there, even though she felt awful. She had a home daycare, so she put tremendous pressure on herself -- she never wanted to let down the families who relied on her. Because she was a nurse (I'm told they make the worst patients...) she thought she could manage to care for everyone without spreading germs. She was a hand-washing fiend.
But while she was caring for everyone else, she kept forgetting to care for herself.
Several times, we had to force her to the doctor's office for antibiotics. She always claimed she was "on the mend" or "getting better". It was a load of hooey. She was diagnosed with 'walking pneumonia' more than once and ordered to rest. She agreed only reluctantly and because the doctor ordered her like a drill sergeant orders a new recruit.
I remember saying to myself, as I saw her suffering on the couch, that I would never drive myself to be so sick. And I helped my brothers and sisters and father care for her until she was healthy again.
Fast forward to last Fall. I found I wasn't so different from my mother after all. I got a cold that turned to a cough. I insisted repeatedly that it was improving. It wasn't. An x-ray showed that I had pneumonia. Just like Mom. I had a V-8 moment, a what is wrong with me? revelation.
I needed to take better care of myself.
So, now that I've succumbed to the family flu bug, I'm following a few rules that apply to everyone -- even Mommy.
When you're sick, stay in bed. Clear the schedule. Cancel your meetings. Bundle up and get extra rest.
Ask for and accept help. Rely on a friend to pick your children up at school. Order take-out for dinner or heat up leftovers instead of cooking. Ask your husband to put the children to bed or give them baths. Let your mother know you are ill and ask if she can pick up groceries for you when she goes to the store.
Drink, drink, drink. Dehydration is your enemy when you are under the weather. Flushing your system with fluids (one small glass per hour of clear liquid) can help your body to heal. It can also help keep fever in check. My beverage of choice today is chamomile tea with honey -- great on a tender throat.
Talk to your Doctor. Your doctor and you are on the same team. Sometimes it's good to remember that. You cooperate when it comes to caring for your children; do the same when you need to heal yourself. Keep track of your symptoms and communicate with your physician. Don't wait until until your fever reaches 104 degrees or until you're coughing so hard that you lose bladder control. Don't be stubborn about it -- you're not invincible.
When we take care of ourselves, especially when we're sick, we are modeling self-care for our children, too. It is comforting for kids to know that Mom and Dad are taking care of their health. Whether it's a cold or flu or something more serious, giving yourself the time to rest and recover and the medical attention you need is actually a remarkable gift to your children.
When I allow my children to see that I'm feeling sick, they often respond with care and compassion. My son will get me a blanket, unasked. My daughter will bring me a cuddly toy or a glass of water. They play more quietly, giving me time to heal. (Okay, okay... sometimes they need a little reminding on that one.) And in the end, when I am feeling myself again, they will welcome me back to the land of the living.
Sometimes Moms need a reminder that self-care is important. Paying attention to our own bodies and health is an important part of being the best Mom we can be.
So, I'm off to get a little rest. Hopefully, before long, I'll be feeling much, much better.
- Midwest Mom
But bad news came last night in the form of aches and exhaustion. Mommy has finally succumbed to the germs.
Like all moms, I am tempted to just medicate and plug on. But if the recent flu scare has taught us anything, it is that sick people should slow down instead of pushing it.
Why is that so tough for a mom? Or is it just me?
I remember years ago when I was growing up, my Mother got sick only very rarely. But what a time we had getting her to rest and take care of herself! She would continue cooking and cleaning and shuttling kids here and there, even though she felt awful. She had a home daycare, so she put tremendous pressure on herself -- she never wanted to let down the families who relied on her. Because she was a nurse (I'm told they make the worst patients...) she thought she could manage to care for everyone without spreading germs. She was a hand-washing fiend.
But while she was caring for everyone else, she kept forgetting to care for herself.
Several times, we had to force her to the doctor's office for antibiotics. She always claimed she was "on the mend" or "getting better". It was a load of hooey. She was diagnosed with 'walking pneumonia' more than once and ordered to rest. She agreed only reluctantly and because the doctor ordered her like a drill sergeant orders a new recruit.
I remember saying to myself, as I saw her suffering on the couch, that I would never drive myself to be so sick. And I helped my brothers and sisters and father care for her until she was healthy again.
Fast forward to last Fall. I found I wasn't so different from my mother after all. I got a cold that turned to a cough. I insisted repeatedly that it was improving. It wasn't. An x-ray showed that I had pneumonia. Just like Mom. I had a V-8 moment, a what is wrong with me? revelation.
I needed to take better care of myself.
So, now that I've succumbed to the family flu bug, I'm following a few rules that apply to everyone -- even Mommy.
When you're sick, stay in bed. Clear the schedule. Cancel your meetings. Bundle up and get extra rest.
Ask for and accept help. Rely on a friend to pick your children up at school. Order take-out for dinner or heat up leftovers instead of cooking. Ask your husband to put the children to bed or give them baths. Let your mother know you are ill and ask if she can pick up groceries for you when she goes to the store.
Drink, drink, drink. Dehydration is your enemy when you are under the weather. Flushing your system with fluids (one small glass per hour of clear liquid) can help your body to heal. It can also help keep fever in check. My beverage of choice today is chamomile tea with honey -- great on a tender throat.
Talk to your Doctor. Your doctor and you are on the same team. Sometimes it's good to remember that. You cooperate when it comes to caring for your children; do the same when you need to heal yourself. Keep track of your symptoms and communicate with your physician. Don't wait until until your fever reaches 104 degrees or until you're coughing so hard that you lose bladder control. Don't be stubborn about it -- you're not invincible.
When we take care of ourselves, especially when we're sick, we are modeling self-care for our children, too. It is comforting for kids to know that Mom and Dad are taking care of their health. Whether it's a cold or flu or something more serious, giving yourself the time to rest and recover and the medical attention you need is actually a remarkable gift to your children.
When I allow my children to see that I'm feeling sick, they often respond with care and compassion. My son will get me a blanket, unasked. My daughter will bring me a cuddly toy or a glass of water. They play more quietly, giving me time to heal. (Okay, okay... sometimes they need a little reminding on that one.) And in the end, when I am feeling myself again, they will welcome me back to the land of the living.
Sometimes Moms need a reminder that self-care is important. Paying attention to our own bodies and health is an important part of being the best Mom we can be.
So, I'm off to get a little rest. Hopefully, before long, I'll be feeling much, much better.
- Midwest Mom
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Dilly Dally: Tales of a Lady in Waiting
My three-year-old is testing my patience.
Daily.
Okay, maybe it's hourly.
She must have been listening back in April when my mother came to visit. During a dinner table discussion of appropriate manners, my mother shared a bit of her family history with my brood. "When I was a child, my mother told us that my Grandmother's Grandmother was a Lady-in-Waiting for Queen Victoria."
I heard the Lady-in-Waiting story often when I was growing up. My daughter did not ask her Nana what exactly a Lady-in-Waiting was. But apparently she liked the sound of it so much that now waiting is all I ever seem to do. After all, there is a family tradition to uphold, right?
Sadly, my patience is not as boundless as it might be.
Here is a partial list of the tasks that cannot possibly be done in less than 30 minutes and without an elaborate cajoling ritual...
And then I think, What Is Wrong With Me??
She's three. And playing your way through the day is what age three is all about. It's also about asserting your independence (which has issues of its own -- trust me.) But mostly, it's about operating on your own "schedule" and doing things in your own time.
Since the boys are so independent, I guess I had forgotten that.
And then something happened yesterday while I was planting my garden that made my parental hypocrisy meter top out. I was planting a bed of Basil when my daughter came up and asked me to play soccer. "After I'm done with these Basil plants," I told her. She waited. She made conversation. She made up a game to make the waiting go faster, which I played with her as I planted. Finally, she left for a few moments and returned.
"Are you ready to play now, Mommy?"
It hit me that I was "playing" in my garden while she patiently waited for me, doing whatever she could to spend time with me. (And also, I am an idiot for making her wait like that.)
So I stopped planting, and we had one heck of a backyard soccer game. Of course, she had to blow a whistle and say, "Argh, he's in the stretch, there's the pitch!" and pantomime a swing for the fences before every kickoff. (Apparently, she's a pirate baseball-playing soccer player??) We also had to establish before kickoff exactly who would be allowed to score the goal. And afterward, she would shout, "SCORE!" and do that breathy crowd noise thing. And despite my sham sorrow at losing yet another point to the masterful mistress of soccer, I did my best to hide my tears, extend my hand, and say, "good game." And then we'd start all over again.
We played for a long time, but it was fun, so that makes it time well spent. In the end it was my own little Lady-in-Waiting who taught me a lesson about patience and being considerate. And about making time to play.
I wonder what my daughter's Grandmother's Grandmother's Grandmother would think of that.
- Midwest Mom
Daily.
Okay, maybe it's hourly.
She must have been listening back in April when my mother came to visit. During a dinner table discussion of appropriate manners, my mother shared a bit of her family history with my brood. "When I was a child, my mother told us that my Grandmother's Grandmother was a Lady-in-Waiting for Queen Victoria."
I heard the Lady-in-Waiting story often when I was growing up. My daughter did not ask her Nana what exactly a Lady-in-Waiting was. But apparently she liked the sound of it so much that now waiting is all I ever seem to do. After all, there is a family tradition to uphold, right?
Sadly, my patience is not as boundless as it might be.
Here is a partial list of the tasks that cannot possibly be done in less than 30 minutes and without an elaborate cajoling ritual...
- Choosing clothes/Getting dressed for the day: First we must have a "favorite colors" guessing game or a "guess what shirt I'm thinking of...?" game. Then comes the "I need you/I don't need you" tug-of-war.
- Putting shoes on: Oh, and they're slip-ons, by the way. God help us when it's time for tie shoes. And we can't forget the issue of matching shoes to one's outfit. (Gah!)
- Brushing teeth: She must brush, then I must brush. "First, count to 19," she will say before handing the brush to me as I slowly pull out my rapidly greying hair.
- Getting into the car: Not getting to the car... just into it. She has to do a super-jump and climb into her car seat, smoothing the back of her shirt just so. Otherwise, she will spend the entire ride complaining that it "frickles."
- Getting out of the car: Frickling is not a problem getting out. We are usually searching for a lost item before getting out -- a marble, barrette, or toy. Today it was a bit of plastic from a juice box straw wrapper. She's meticulous... I'll give her that.
- Putting on a jacket: Here we fall victim to "I'll do it myself" syndrome. Even the zipper. It takes For-Ev-Er.
- Choosing a book: I love to read to her, but often 20 minutes of looking will have her settling (finally) on a book with 6 pages.
- Any meal: She just wants to talk to whomever is at the table. She's a social girl... that is, until dessert is served. Then she's full (except that she has room for dessert.)
- Bedtime: Tonight I was kissed by no less than three dogs, two bears and a blankie. I then had to fight for a kiss from my daughter playing "you can't find me" under her bedsheet.
And then I think, What Is Wrong With Me??
She's three. And playing your way through the day is what age three is all about. It's also about asserting your independence (which has issues of its own -- trust me.) But mostly, it's about operating on your own "schedule" and doing things in your own time.
Since the boys are so independent, I guess I had forgotten that.
And then something happened yesterday while I was planting my garden that made my parental hypocrisy meter top out. I was planting a bed of Basil when my daughter came up and asked me to play soccer. "After I'm done with these Basil plants," I told her. She waited. She made conversation. She made up a game to make the waiting go faster, which I played with her as I planted. Finally, she left for a few moments and returned.
"Are you ready to play now, Mommy?"
It hit me that I was "playing" in my garden while she patiently waited for me, doing whatever she could to spend time with me. (And also, I am an idiot for making her wait like that.)
So I stopped planting, and we had one heck of a backyard soccer game. Of course, she had to blow a whistle and say, "Argh, he's in the stretch, there's the pitch!" and pantomime a swing for the fences before every kickoff. (Apparently, she's a pirate baseball-playing soccer player??) We also had to establish before kickoff exactly who would be allowed to score the goal. And afterward, she would shout, "SCORE!" and do that breathy crowd noise thing. And despite my sham sorrow at losing yet another point to the masterful mistress of soccer, I did my best to hide my tears, extend my hand, and say, "good game." And then we'd start all over again.
We played for a long time, but it was fun, so that makes it time well spent. In the end it was my own little Lady-in-Waiting who taught me a lesson about patience and being considerate. And about making time to play.
I wonder what my daughter's Grandmother's Grandmother's Grandmother would think of that.
- Midwest Mom
Monday, June 30, 2008
Time for Me: the Sisterhood of Moms
I desperately need a haircut. I have for at least three weeks. I have made (and cancelled) at least two appointments already. Because it's summer, I fool myself into thinking the pony tail holder is okay.
But glamorous, it is not.
This is one of the awful truths of my life, and maybe, of any Mom's life... We are constantly making time for everyone else's priorities, but when it comes to taking care of *ourselves*, we are pitiful.
I know a woman who folds everyone else's clothes, but dresses herself out of a basketful of clean laundry.
I know a woman who paints her daughters' toenails on a weekly basis, but when I gave her a gift certificate to go get a pedicure, it took her a whole year to use it.
And then there's me... with my quarterly haircut.
Lately, I've been asked for advice from three new moms I know. All are about 6 months in to first-time mothering. And all are at their wits end. They fret about fussiness and fevers, they wonder if they should worry about their child's weight, teething, which foods are best, how much formula to give. And of course, there are the diapers.
I've told each of them the same things.
1) Every first-time mom worries about exactly the same things you are. When we say, "Relax! Take time for yourself!" Don't believe that we're taking our own advice. Because the only way any of us learned what to worry about and not to worry about was to worry about everything in the beginning. If there is a brand new mom who is not asking the questions you are, guess what? They are not as good a mom as they imagine.
2) With that said, "Relax! Take time for yourself!" Ha.
No, seriously. I think one of the best things I ever found was that if I could take even 15 minutes to do something independent -- that made me feel like the strong woman I was before "the transformation," I felt so much better about life in general. For every person, this is a different thing.
For my own mother, it was a hot bath. I remember once or twice a week, her locking herself in the upstairs bathroom and coming out with a face as red as cooked lobster and smelling like perfume. Afterward, there was nothing that we six (yes, I said six) children could do that could bother her. She was restored.
For me, it is the time I take in my garden. You may wonder how weeding or planting or watering can help me... I'll tell you. It is the silence of it. My children are all of the age where they can play in the yard while I work. But, spending time in the garden a few times each week can bring me back from the edge. I like tending something living, solving solvable problems, and enjoying the benefits of growing something truly beautiful. There are no lasting consequences there, and I like that.
So, when I say "Relax! Take time for yourself!" understand that it may only be 5 or 10 minutes a day at first. People don't understand that a new mom has to remind herself to shower and dress in the morning. Do it, and do it faithfully.
3.) You will make mistakes. Be sure to be as gentle and forgiving with yourself as you plan to be with your child.
Every mom I know has had times when she thought she was the worst mother in the world. I remember, when my oldest was about three months old, I nicked his finger while cutting his nails. I tell you, there is nothing scarier than drawing blood on your own child. I distinctly remember calling my mother in tears, and going over everything that had happened, including my use of every disinfecting agent and ointment in the first aid kit. "Can I use a band aid on his finger? Will he eat it and choke?" I asked, frantic. It was at that moment that I realized I could never be a trauma nurse. I think, in terms of baby-care, it was my all-time low.
The good news is that babies have little or no long-term memory. So, as long as you can keep away from psychologically scarring abuse, you're good. So, abandonment is out --and No, that doesn't include letting him sit in his bouncy seat fussing for a few minutes so you can go into the bathroom by yourself. Come on.
4) Finally, I tell them that the best response to the almost soul-crushing frustration that a new mom feels is...
(drum roll, please...)
A good nap.
When you are well-rested, your perspective will magically return. It has worked for me and for countless thousands of other moms.
Which brings me to this: becoming a first time mom brings you into one of the toughest sisterhoods on the planet. All the logic and reasoning you learned to succeed on your own in the world will be turned on its head when you become a Mom. But the good news is: You are not alone! One of the best things I did as a first-time mom was to find a group of other moms. We met once a week, at each others' houses, under the pretense of a "playgroup". It was more of a "roll on the floor and drool group", but playgroup sounds better. That group helped me so much in ways I cannot even explain, but the greatest way was just getting rid of the isolation I felt.
I live in a new town now, but have found that the Sisterhood of Moms does, indeed, have a local chapter! We find ways to support each other, laugh together, cry together, and share our lives in the best times and the most difficult circumstances.
So, to my new mom friends, Welcome to the Sisterhood.
... will one of you babysit so I can go get my hair cut?
Midwest Mom
.
But glamorous, it is not.
This is one of the awful truths of my life, and maybe, of any Mom's life... We are constantly making time for everyone else's priorities, but when it comes to taking care of *ourselves*, we are pitiful.
I know a woman who folds everyone else's clothes, but dresses herself out of a basketful of clean laundry.
I know a woman who paints her daughters' toenails on a weekly basis, but when I gave her a gift certificate to go get a pedicure, it took her a whole year to use it.
And then there's me... with my quarterly haircut.
Lately, I've been asked for advice from three new moms I know. All are about 6 months in to first-time mothering. And all are at their wits end. They fret about fussiness and fevers, they wonder if they should worry about their child's weight, teething, which foods are best, how much formula to give. And of course, there are the diapers.
I've told each of them the same things.
1) Every first-time mom worries about exactly the same things you are. When we say, "Relax! Take time for yourself!" Don't believe that we're taking our own advice. Because the only way any of us learned what to worry about and not to worry about was to worry about everything in the beginning. If there is a brand new mom who is not asking the questions you are, guess what? They are not as good a mom as they imagine.
2) With that said, "Relax! Take time for yourself!" Ha.
No, seriously. I think one of the best things I ever found was that if I could take even 15 minutes to do something independent -- that made me feel like the strong woman I was before "the transformation," I felt so much better about life in general. For every person, this is a different thing.
For my own mother, it was a hot bath. I remember once or twice a week, her locking herself in the upstairs bathroom and coming out with a face as red as cooked lobster and smelling like perfume. Afterward, there was nothing that we six (yes, I said six) children could do that could bother her. She was restored.
For me, it is the time I take in my garden. You may wonder how weeding or planting or watering can help me... I'll tell you. It is the silence of it. My children are all of the age where they can play in the yard while I work. But, spending time in the garden a few times each week can bring me back from the edge. I like tending something living, solving solvable problems, and enjoying the benefits of growing something truly beautiful. There are no lasting consequences there, and I like that.
So, when I say "Relax! Take time for yourself!" understand that it may only be 5 or 10 minutes a day at first. People don't understand that a new mom has to remind herself to shower and dress in the morning. Do it, and do it faithfully.
3.) You will make mistakes. Be sure to be as gentle and forgiving with yourself as you plan to be with your child.
Every mom I know has had times when she thought she was the worst mother in the world. I remember, when my oldest was about three months old, I nicked his finger while cutting his nails. I tell you, there is nothing scarier than drawing blood on your own child. I distinctly remember calling my mother in tears, and going over everything that had happened, including my use of every disinfecting agent and ointment in the first aid kit. "Can I use a band aid on his finger? Will he eat it and choke?" I asked, frantic. It was at that moment that I realized I could never be a trauma nurse. I think, in terms of baby-care, it was my all-time low.
The good news is that babies have little or no long-term memory. So, as long as you can keep away from psychologically scarring abuse, you're good. So, abandonment is out --and No, that doesn't include letting him sit in his bouncy seat fussing for a few minutes so you can go into the bathroom by yourself. Come on.
4) Finally, I tell them that the best response to the almost soul-crushing frustration that a new mom feels is...
(drum roll, please...)
A good nap.
When you are well-rested, your perspective will magically return. It has worked for me and for countless thousands of other moms.
Which brings me to this: becoming a first time mom brings you into one of the toughest sisterhoods on the planet. All the logic and reasoning you learned to succeed on your own in the world will be turned on its head when you become a Mom. But the good news is: You are not alone! One of the best things I did as a first-time mom was to find a group of other moms. We met once a week, at each others' houses, under the pretense of a "playgroup". It was more of a "roll on the floor and drool group", but playgroup sounds better. That group helped me so much in ways I cannot even explain, but the greatest way was just getting rid of the isolation I felt.
I live in a new town now, but have found that the Sisterhood of Moms does, indeed, have a local chapter! We find ways to support each other, laugh together, cry together, and share our lives in the best times and the most difficult circumstances.
So, to my new mom friends, Welcome to the Sisterhood.
... will one of you babysit so I can go get my hair cut?
Midwest Mom
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Friday, May 30, 2008
Is Drama normal?
I was talking with a friend on the phone the other day, and her daughter had a "meltdown moment" while we were talking on the phone.
We've all been there. She handled it, but remained on the phone. We laughed and talked about raising girls and all the residual guilt. After all, we MUST have done that to our mothers at one point or another, right?
And why is it that ALL children gravitate to their moms in extreme need the moment we have a telephone in our hand?? I routinely say to my own, "What am I holding by my ear?!? Is this a banana?" They laugh and say, "No." Two minutes later, there is another life-altering emergency (i.e. I can't find my sock! She said a potty talk word! Read me this book!)
I shouldn't complain... there are worse things than being interrupted on the phone...
Which brings me back to my friend. After a prolonged telephone freakout by her daughter (age 4) -- by prolonged, I mean about three minutes of crescendo -- we both realized there must be something wrong. After the removal of a shoe, and the removal of the phone from my ear -- wow! that girl can yell! -- an inch-long splinter wedged under her toenail turned out to be the culprit. Can you say, "OUCH?!?" Needless to say, we got off the phone, and she got that little girl to the doctor!
But something funny happened later that night. My friend called me back. And through table-setting and dinner preparation, we shared our deep maternal guilt. I assured her, "YOU ARE A GOOD MOM." Words she needed to hear.
I hung up the phone, and realized this episode left me with a question that needs answering... When you're raising children (particularly daughters) ...
IS DRAMA NORMAL?
And where is the border between normal and outrageous (i.e. impending disaster) drama?
Can't wait to hear your thoughts,
Midwest Mom
We've all been there. She handled it, but remained on the phone. We laughed and talked about raising girls and all the residual guilt. After all, we MUST have done that to our mothers at one point or another, right?
And why is it that ALL children gravitate to their moms in extreme need the moment we have a telephone in our hand?? I routinely say to my own, "What am I holding by my ear?!? Is this a banana?" They laugh and say, "No." Two minutes later, there is another life-altering emergency (i.e. I can't find my sock! She said a potty talk word! Read me this book!)
I shouldn't complain... there are worse things than being interrupted on the phone...
Which brings me back to my friend. After a prolonged telephone freakout by her daughter (age 4) -- by prolonged, I mean about three minutes of crescendo -- we both realized there must be something wrong. After the removal of a shoe, and the removal of the phone from my ear -- wow! that girl can yell! -- an inch-long splinter wedged under her toenail turned out to be the culprit. Can you say, "OUCH?!?" Needless to say, we got off the phone, and she got that little girl to the doctor!
But something funny happened later that night. My friend called me back. And through table-setting and dinner preparation, we shared our deep maternal guilt. I assured her, "YOU ARE A GOOD MOM." Words she needed to hear.
I hung up the phone, and realized this episode left me with a question that needs answering... When you're raising children (particularly daughters) ...
IS DRAMA NORMAL?
And where is the border between normal and outrageous (i.e. impending disaster) drama?
Can't wait to hear your thoughts,
Midwest Mom
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