I'm sure I was at least 25 years old before I ever considered that my mother was allowed to have her emotions. I mean really, she was a single mother raising three children, working at least one full time job, doing projects on the side, and making sure we were never hungry, naked, or without shelter. She and I didn't become great friends until we had the chance to live apart, where she was able to see things without the weight of her and my expectations, and I was able to respect what she did as a responsible adult, taking care of her children in far less than ideal circumstances.
I learned a lot from the good and bad of my mother's and my relationship. One of the main things I learned was that I have to let my children in. My mom, without the support of a loving partner, did what she could, when she had a chance to think things through. She was usually so tired, worried, or frustrated, that she didn't have the luxuries of reflecting on how she handled a particular situation with me or one of my brothers. She certainly wasn't connecting with other mothers via blogging, books, and meetup groups to temper the single mother lifestyle with the support of other women in similar situations.
No, she was busy working and sifting through her own emotions as a woman with shattered dreams, life's curve balls, and a daughter who never really considered what her mother might be dealing with at any given moment. Mom herself will say though, that a big part of that was because she and I never truly connected. Mom tried to fit into the "Perfect Mother" role, but she wasn't, because there's no such thing. I know now that my mom, like all other women, are (say it with me) people first, mothers second. She had her own internal stuff to deal with, and those wounds don't just miraculously heal themselves because we have children. Mom wasn't emotionally healed from past relationships, and so she couldn't move forward and deal with anything else, namely her flip-at-the-lip look-alike who just
knew she was right about everything, and that her mom was just plain clueless.
Enter karma, poorly disguised as two girls, currently ages 6 and 4.
If you've read a few of my previous posts, you should have gathered that I don't even pretend that I am the type of mom who fully understands her children, let's them be nothing but themselves, and grins with pride as they show off their amazing evolutions from babies to little girls with big personalities.
Nope, I don't front like that.
I'm a realist when it comes to parenting, and I refuse to be a (consciously) participant in the that game of Perfect Mother. You know the rules of that game, right?
1. Never let your children see you sweat. Instead, pretend that you have it all together, all the time.
2. Don't share the "bad stuff" with your children. Make them think everything's always fine, and either deny or refuse to address any questions to the contrary.
3. If your children know that your human, susceptible to the pressures of life and all, they'll capitalize on it and run you ragged! Therefore, SHOW NO WEAKNESS. Just drink wine when they're asleep.
Well, let me not outright lie to you. I do indulge in an occasional glass of the make-it-go-aways at the end of a particularly challenging day.
#Muscatoismyfriend. But, I don't believe in pretending that I somehow become immune to the barrage of emotions, or somehow learn to temper elements of my personality simply because I had some babies.
Nope, I'm still the same woman I was before children. Just smarter, a bit more thoughtful, a lot more driven, much more likely to snap (blame that on Mama Bear Syndrome), and oh yeah, a little wider :)
In a nutshell, I'm just not down with the idea of pretending to be perfect. I speak to my daughters from a place rooted in reality (as opposed to best-case scenarios and June Cleaver aspirations), and I always will. When my daughters do something that offends me, I let them know that. When I'm having a bad day, and not feeling up to being particularly playful, I let them know.
To me, it's important that they're not in their 20's before they realize that I am a person first, and their mother second. For me, that philosophy entitles me to frustration, hurt feelings, and all the myriad emotions that come with being human. It certainly doesn't mean I hold them accountable for how I feel (since I am the adult in the situation), but I do show them that what they say and do has consequences, and those consequences should be considered, even when they're dealing with their mommy.
Have you considered how the ways your children interact with you shapes the way they interact with everyone else?
Do you let your children know how their behavior makes you feel? Is there accountability associated with that in your household?
I'm curious because surely, I don't assert that my way of thinking is "the best" approach. But it's what I've gathered through my experiences, and it feels right.
What feels right for you?
