My Babies Have Turned Tween and Being A Mom is Still Hard
When I decided to become a mom I had no idea what I was getting into. In truth, the phrase “we’re having a baby” was as far as I got with my decision as a whole. I was focused on pregnancy, decorating a nursery, and buying cute tiny onesies. My thought process wasn’t much different than my 11 year old who thinks that he is going to become a NBA player because he played one season of basketball. I had done some babysitting, had nieces and nephews, generally liked kids (especially cute babies) so I assumed that I was qualified. I was not.
The other day I was driving to a middle school open house looking back over the years. My son’s cute nursery is now filled with piles of dirty clothes, candy wrappers that I didn’t approve, and a faint stench that I can’t get rid of. He’s angsty and defiant and our snuggling is non existent. He hasn’t held his arms up for me to hold him in so many years and I already feel like it’s too late to teach him the things I should have been focused on while I was letting him eat junk food and watch Paw Patrol because I “needed a break.”
The truth is, I needed a break because I had a slight hangover. At the time, the only way that I knew how to cope with the magnitude of the reality of motherhood was to drink. But instead of more education, more therapy, and asking for more help, I decided to have another child. Two kids seemed to be the right number of children that society wanted me to raise. I’m so easily influenced.
Because of those decisions I am now a person responsible for raising two humans who prefer to not be parented at all. They both think that they know everything, can do everything, and want nothing more than me to leave them alone-even though that I know a small sip of water would literally make everything better.
I can’t leave them alone. According to the 314,000 books/articles on parenting that I’ve read, I have so much work to do. I need to connect, but only on their time and not too much. Provide discipline but in a gentle way that makes them feel accountable and responsible. Feed them organic, wholesome food but let them choose and cook it themselves (which I already f’d up because my son only eats Papa John’s pizza and my daughter’s favorite food is corn dogs). I’m supposed to give them unconditional attention and make sure to model what I want instead of tell them what I want. I can do this at first, but they wear me down until I end up behaving in the exact same way that I don’t want them to behave. I’m supposed to limit screen time and lock up social apps which leads to a lot of screaming and fighting which I then need to use appropriate apologies and express that while anger is natural, I should have taken deep breaths instead of yelled. I’m exhausted.
And yet…there’s no rest coming for me. Sure, the times of waking up to a crying baby are long gone, but I’m still having sleepless nights as I lay awake hoping that I can convince my son to choose the right related arts classes in middle school. Or, wondering how I can help my daughter deal with her growing anxiety. I no longer have to wrestle a two year old into a car seat but I do have to make sure that the 100 items that we need for practices, clubs, and after school activities are in their backpacks at all times while thinking up creative ways to teach them to remember it for themselves. Instead of meeting up at the park with mom friends and helping my baby make their way down the slide, I’m sending them off to houses of parents/kids that I barely know hoping that I’ve given them the skills that they need to be safe. On top of all of this, there’s no mom’s support group. We’re all too busy.
I had no idea how utterly complicated it would be to be responsible for feeding two humans every single meal that they need to survive.
I’m sure people were talking about this. There had to have been mom blogs saying the exact things that I’m expressing. Unfortunately, though, before I became a parent I wasn’t reading mom blogs. I was reading People Magazine and fiction books. Maybe every now and then I would stumble across a pregnancy blog or save a cute Pinterest pic of the types of lunch I would send with my kids to school. Such a waste of my time.
Just recently, I was having a really hard day. I was in a funk, needed to sort through some important stuff, and felt sick to my stomach. Meanwhile, my kids needed things-dinner, soccer jersey, my attention, and signed permission slips. All I wanted to do was lay on the couch and watch TV. I couldn’t believe that even when I feel too tired to be a mother, I still still have to show up for them. It’s not because I’ve set poor boundaries, or because I picked the wrong spouse, or because I somehow haven’t managed to make my kids self sufficient, it’s because this IS parenting. I’m not doing it wrong.
The capitalist approach makes attempts to keep moms small. If you buy this shiny thing then parenting is easier. If you drink this wine then you can relax. Just yesterday, a friend sent me a screenshot of a Mother’s Day sale on “Mom Water” which is like a vodka drink in a La Croix can. WTF? You can buy everything from bath bombs to parenting courses in an attempt to “ace” parenting. This way, if the weight of motherhood is too heavy, then we feel like it’s our fault. We’ve all heard the bullshit advice “sleep while the baby is sleeping.”
It sometimes feels like I don’t have the right to complain. I’m not parenting babies anymore and I’ve yet to hit the teen years where things are very hard. But, parenting tweens is lonely. I’m supposed to be relishing in the “good years” even though I miss my babies and I’m not looking forward to buying acne cream and tampons.
I’m not going to fill the end of this post with reasons why I love my kids, how it’s all worth it, or that I wouldn’t change a thing. We can talk about the hardships of motherhood without following it up with justifications and reassurance.
I am going to fill the end, however, with validation. I will hold space for moms to feel less than pumped for another Mother’s Day where many moms lack basic rights like shelter and health care. It’s okay if that cute drawing or necklace (while you love it dearly) just doesn’t feel like enough. No matter what age child you are mothering, I empathize with your struggles. I know that you’re doing your best. You can put the agony, worry, and guilt aside just long enough to take a deep breath and know that being a mom might feel impossible but you are perfect for the job.
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