Being the Mom My Son Deserves

It's been almost exactly six months since I updated this blog, not because I don't have time, but because I find I don't have much worth saying. My life is not particularly earth-shattering, nor difficult, nor interesting. It's a great life, but it's only great if you're the one living it. There are moments when I look at my son and wish I could pause this exact moment and live in it forever. Sometimes while I'm holding him, or rocking him, or laughing with him, I am reminded that my greatest wish for him is that he is blessed with children of his own some day, so that he too can experience the amazing, unbounded, neverending love I feel for him.

And then there are days when the only way I can get him to go back to sleep at 3:00 AM is to lay on the floor next to his crib until he falls asleep, so I have to lay there and listen to him whine until I eventually wake up hours later, my pregnant body stiff and aching from hours of sleeping on the floor, barely able to roll myself back to my own bed without whimpering and waking him up. And then I spend my day trying to pacify and entertain a crying, whining, teething toddler who is mad because he doesn't get to have M&Ms for breakfast, wants to play on the excavator in the neighborhood RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT even though it's pouring rain and someone is already driving that particular excavator, doesn't understand why his mouth hurts all the time this month, isn't allowed to paint the electrical sockets with water from the dog bowl, and on and on and on. And when I finally get him to take a brief nap, I spend my "free time" doing the dishes, preparing dinner, handling family bills and business, cleaning up toys, doing laundry, and feeling bitter at the world because someone made a comment about how stay-at-home-moms have it so easy, and I think about how they will never understand just how difficult this job can be.

Being a mom is more than just my job, it's my entire identity. It's the core of what I do, all day, every day. Thus, I spend a lot of time discussing parenting strategies, techniques, and attitudes with other parents. I have found lately that there seems to be a huge difference in perspective on how difficult parenting is. Those who fall on the "holy crap this is hard" side tend to be parents, and those who fall on the "what's so hard about playing with kids?" side tend not to be. A recent Facebook discussion inspired me to try to explain just what it is about parenting that is so damn difficult, hopefully in a way that resonates with non-parents. So, this is my attempt to do so.

From an emotional standpoint, the underlying love a parent feels for their child is incomparable to any other emotion in the world. Those of you who aren't parents might think "I know what strong love feels like", or "I'm sure it's a lot like the love I feel for my sisters", or even "I bet you're right, and I think I can imagine that kind of love." But the fact is, unless you are a parent, you don't get it. You can't possibly understand. You don't know what it's like to sit by your newborn in the NICU, willing his tiny little heart to continue beating, and promising a God you didn't believe in yesterday that you'll stop breathing so that your baby can take those breaths instead. Or driving past an intersection where a car accident recently caused an entire family to burn to death as they were trapped in their car, and having to pull over because the thought of your own children burning to death has made you sob so hard you can no longer see the road. If you don't have children, you just don't understand. But that is the emotional foundation to a parent's job. It's the premise for everything we do. It's what makes every moment and every action more important, more trying, more exhausting, and more rewarding than the simple act itself.

The logistics of taking care of a child all day every day are complicated and overwhelming. I have to be the ultimate Boy Scout all day every day. I don't grocery shop without a detailed list in which every item is sorted by aisle so I can get in and out as quickly as possible. In case of various emergencies I bring a diaper, several toys, and a snack everywhere we go. Everything we do takes four times longer than it would without kids, because he wants to walk by himself, or stop to look at something, or needs an emergency diaper change first, or gets hurt, or throws a tantrum. I do everything one-handed because my other hand is holding his. And it's slow and time-consuming, and requires a certain "zen" attitude because nothing ever goes the way I expected it to, but I have to be prepared for that and be okay with it, because these little experiences are my son's entire existence, and I want them to be good experiences for him.

But for me, the hardest part of being a mom is being a GOOD mom, all the time. Anyone with half a brain and a good heart can rise to the occasion and take care of a child for a few hours. But just being there isn't enough for me. It's not enough for me that Patrick has fun toys to play with, is well fed, and has his basic needs met. Day in and day out, no matter how tired, or bored, or annoyed I am, no matter what personal business I'm also trying to work through, no matter what the weather is like, it's up to me to help him become a confident, capable, responsible, polite, happy person. I don't get a break from that responsibility, and I don't get to half-ass it. I am responsible for teaching him everything he needs to know about the world-- words, conversation, manners, sharing, compassion, patience, fine and gross motor skills, letters and numbers, safety, artistic appreciation, following directions, love and kindness. It's not enough to sit and watch TV all day, or go to the same playground every day, or read the same books every day; he needs to get out and experience the world, practice playing with other kids, see animals, dig in piles of dirt, jump in mud puddles, and learn how to entertain himself while waiting patiently with me in a doctors office. It's easy to do it one day, or two days, but coming up with good, character-building experiences every single day, year round, even if I'm tired, or sick, or busy, or lazy, or distracted, is hard. I have to be the kind of amazing parent my children deserve, all day every day. And there's no manual, no guidelines, no job expectations, no one to tell you you're headed in the right direction. Nothing to motivate me to do my best other than the knowledge that Patrick deserves it. No one to give you a hard time or motivational speech if you slack off.

There's no awards banquet for the best bedtime routine, or most times you read the same dumb book, or most creative use for a bag of mixed dried beans. I won't get a raise, time off, or even acknowledgement that I did a good job today. In fact, the days I feel like I was the absolute best mom I could be are the days my husband comes home to the messiest house and laziest dinner, because I spent my "cleaning" time doing something meaningful instead, like teaching Patrick how to make mud pies, or decorate cupcakes, or make a castle out of furniture and blankets. And to an outsider it looks like I slacked off all day, but really I was the best mom I could be. Because that's what my son deserves, all day and all night, every day.