Am I Still a Good Mother if No One's There to See?

I've been thinking a lot about images, the way we perceive one another. I am incredibly lucky to have a husband who will listen to me go on and on for hours as I talk through all the neuroses and nonsense floating around my head until I sort it all out. It was during one of these decidedly one-sided conversations that I discovered something sort of unsettling about myself. I care way too much about how others view me. It wasn't exactly a brand-new revelation, far from it. My need to be liked and accepted has been the root of many problems from adolescence and on. It's why I have always been a teacher's pet, why I didn't have any friends, and why I was constantly unhappy as a teenager. I didn't know how to be myself and like what I liked, because I was so busy pretending to like what everyone else did. I know I've just described over half the teenage population. I'm not saying this was a unique problem. And mercifully, most of us grow out of this phase and learn to just be ourselves, opinions of others be damned!

Or do we? Sure, I've come a long way from the girl who begged for an advance on her allowance to buy some hideous Looney Tunes t-shirt that she didn't even like, just so she wouldn't be the only one not wearing one at school. I no longer have to hide my all-consuming love for Emma Thompson and period British frock flicks from my middle school compatriots. But do I live my life only for me, or do I go out of my way to preserve some kind of image?

I think the truth is that I still have not learned to live my life like nobody is watching. One of my biggest concerns over this past year has been my identity as a mother. What kind of mother do I want to be? How do I want to be seen? Not as the overprotective and paranoid new mother, surely not. I want to be the relaxed, confident mom, ever-prepared, the one lending diapers to the frazzled, hand-wringing mom who forgot to pack extras. I want to be the wise mom whom others come to for advice.

And I don't think I'm alone. I think for every time we gracefully smile and nod at the clichéd words of wisdom spoken by more experienced mothers, we secretly scan the room looking for someone less experienced than we. Someone to fall victim to OUR "See what you have to look forward to?" and "Oh, that's nothing. Wait until she starts walking!" comments. No matter how together you think you are as a mom, there is always going to be someone with older kids or more kids to put you in your place. I even did it when I was pregnant. If you were less pregnant than me, I'd assault you with a, "You think you're big now? Just wait!". Or I'd come at you with a "Oh, back when I was ONLY four months pregnant, I thought I knew it all. But, now that I'm six months along, I really know what it's all about". I think it's some sort of weird, innate human desire to educate and maybe even help others. Maybe we need to feel needed, or maybe it strengthens our confidence as parents.

Or maybe we're all just fucking annoying.

It's harmless, really. Unless you are like me, and you take it too far. See, about a month ago, I was having a really rough time. I wrote once about how Charlotte stopped sleeping through the night and how she was coming to bed with me, but that I didn't mind. And it's true that I didn't mind her sleeping in bed with us. But the operative word there is sleep. Once she started waking up in the middle of the night and hitting us, talking to us, sitting up in bed, STANDING up in bed, we were done. None of us were getting any sleep. Chris and I started bickering about who got more sleep, who needed more sleep, who got smacked in the face less by the baby. You name it. But the worst part was that Charlotte was being a brat. I've joked about her being bad in the past, but this was out of this world. She had a meltdown every time anything-ever-happened-somewhere-in-the-world. She was always crying and throwing things and whining. I was totally at the end of my rope. Even though intellectually I knew she was acting that way due to a lack of sleep, I couldn't help but feel like A) My baby hated me. B)I didn't really like her either. And C)I was a horrible mother for both those reasons.

It was a time I needed some advice, some reassurance that I wasn't alone, some friends. But because I was ashamed of how out of control I felt, ashamed of not having it all figured out, ashamed of not being the Zen mom I wanted to be, I didn't say anything for a while. I figured I was just being a baby, not appreciating this wonderful gift I had waited so long for. I reasoned I could fix the problem in my head so I didn't have to expose myself as the aforementioned frazzled mom.

Luckily, I have some really awesome friends and family and a totally amazing husband who all make me feel secure enough to be honest. So, eventually I came out of the bad mommy closet and opened up. Now, with the support of those around me and the miracle that is "sleeping through the night", I am in a much better place.

And I learned a valuable lesson. We are none of us perfect. We all have weak moments and flaws. I admire my friends who can be upfront with me about the trials and pitfalls of parenthood. If we were all that way, we could offer one another support and reassurance. And from now on, I will be taking a page from your book so I never feel so lonely again.

Baby Bomb

A couple months ago a friend of mine, whom I have not seen in a few years and whose biological clock is ticking like mad, was trying to get the real scoop on parenthood from me and Chris. She asked me if having a baby really does change your life as much as everyone says it does. I suppose she was hoping I would debunk the myth of the life-altering, bubble-bursting, dream-shattering baby. The baby that shows up, disrupts your sleep and your sex life, causes a third of your conversations to revolve around poop, and guarantees that you will never see a movie in a theater again.

I could have lied. I could have sugar coated it. But, I had to come clean with a resounding “Yes!”. Yes, a baby will knock your life upside down. Yes, everything you’ve heard is true. And yes, it will all be worth it because you will love that baby more than blah, blah, blah. I mean, you know the drill. It doesn’t matter what I tell her anyway because, as I now know, no words of wisdom can prepare you for what is in store for you as a new parent. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop people from trying.

But, it got me thinking about what has changed for me. And, I decided that the biggest change has been in my friendships. I never thought I’d be that mother who smugly proclaims, “I pretty much just hang out with my friends with kids these days”. And, I’m not. I try to make time for Charlotte-free activities whenever I can…ish. But, it’s true that since Charlotte was born I have become a lot closer to a couple of my mommy friends, and there has been a noticeable divide between me and my single and/or child-free friends.

Oh, how that last statement made me feel dirty! Add it to the long list of things I never thought I would do or say once I became a parent. And the worst part is that I can vividly remember what it was like to be on the other side of the stroller. I remember wanting nothing more than to catch up with a friend on the phone and feeling frustrated by the screaming children in the background and the constant interruptions as my friend scolded or comforted her kids, depending on the situation. I remember commiserating with a fellow childless buddy about how annoying it is when people use their kids as an excuse not to do anything. I remember swearing that I would be the kind of mom who would not let a baby slow me down, that I would be more than happy to dump the kids off at Grandma’s so I could run off to Vegas, the club, wherever.

I hated the accusation that people without kids just “didn’t get it”. I found it condescending and insulting. And it is. So, I’m not going to say that. All I can say is that I have learned to eat my words. I didn’t know that being away from my daughter would make me feel physically ill at first. And that even when it started to get easier, I could never completely be at ease until we were reunited, which means I would rarely agree to anything that took me away from her for more than a few hours. So much for Vegas!

I didn’t realize how much I would change as a person. My priorities, the things I worry about, the ways I chose to spend my time, all changed. And it stands to reason that it would be easy fun, fulfilling even, to surround myself with people who could relate to my experiences. People who wouldn’t judge me for letting my newborn take all her naps on my shoulder because they remembered what it was like to not want to let go. People who would find my stories about teething interesting and could give me advice about diaper rashes. I love my friends with kids. They reassure me, inspire confidence, listen to my banal stories about Charlotte, and go out of their way to be there for me and my daughter.

But, my friends without kids do all these things, too, sometimes even more so. So, the challenge is to not get hung up on the times when they are mad at me for not coming out or making fun of me for being overprotective, and try to remember what it was like to be in their shoes. I don’t want to alienate people who care about me because they don’t have kids, just like I would hate for my friends to give up on me because I have one.

So, I have set up certain ground rules for myself. I try not to talk exclusively about Charlotte in conversations (This is a good rule no matter who I am talking to). I try not to give people a play by play of what she is doing when I am talking on the phone, no matter how scintillating it seems to me. I NEVER put her on the phone. Seriously, please don’t put your infant or toddler on the phone with someone, unless it’s a grandparent or unless you are specifically requested to do so. PLEASE. I will always consider an offer to go out and will make a sincere effort to make time for my friends, even if it isn’t always easy to leave the baby behind.

I’m not perfect, and I may slip up and do something obnoxious. But, I will try to be a good friend. In return, I hope my friends will cut me some slack if we have to hang out at my house with the baby sometimes instead of going to a movie, or if I tell one too many “Charlotte did the cutest thing!” stories.

Luckily, I am privileged to have some of the most amazing people in my life. I think we’ll make it work.