Dear Fellow Moms:
Look, I know there is plenty of guilt to go around. People (including other moms) pass judgment on moms all the time. Working moms vs. stay-at-home moms and all that jazz.
Whatever.
The truth is that we all make decisions that are right for us. No one else’s decision is going to work.
Now we have to stop feeling guilty about these decisions. We need to stop feeling guilty about a whole bunch of stuff.
We also need to talk about it. We need to hear the terrible things other people think and feel so that we don’t feel so guilty and so alone.
Today, I’m letting go.
I’m going to tell the truth about what is in my nasty, shriveled heart. There’s only one thing I want you to remember: I really do love my husband and kids. (OK, two things: I’m also a generally happy person.)
Forgive me, People, for I have sinned. It has been a while since my last (official) confession. These are my sins:
- Though I never (for real) regret getting married and having kids, sometimes I’m jealous of single people and people without kids. I miss sleeping late. I miss spontaneity. I miss being able to go to an R-rated movie without scrambling for a trustworthy sitter who won’t cause my children nightmares and/or expensive therapy.
- Unless there is obvious hemorrhaging or a bone sticking out of the skin, I cannot muster up any concern or sympathy for injuries earned while doing something stupid.
- During the summer, I put the kids in camp. Every day. Yes, I have a new job and I can’t take much time off, but I would put them in camp anyway. I really like working and I don’t have the patience or desire to be a stay-at-home mom. Meanwhile, they are thrilled to be at art camp, skate camp, whining-about-imaginary-ailments camp, killing-your-parents-with-your-sound-effects camp, etc.
- I have a heart-soaring moment of glee when I drop them off at camp. The words, “I’m free” ring out through my evil brain. Often, the words come in the form of the melody from “The Who’s Tommy.” Sometimes it’s just the screaming banshee of freedom.
- I wait until the last possible moment to pick them up. I lick clean the plate of alone-time.
- I would rather allow the boys to spend two hours killing sheep with lava in Minecraft than spend two minutes doing some kind of craft project with them. I hate craft projects. I hate the words, “Mama, can we do a project?”
I hate all the clay crap that comes home with them from art camp.As someone who is not a fine artist, I am overwhelmed by the sheer number of splendid artistic creations lovingly made during art camp. - I kicked Dominic’s remote-controlled rattlesnake so hard it broke in two. Why? Because he drove that thing in the kitchen again after I had warned him not to do it.
- I want to follow through on my threat to throw out the things they don’t put away, if only to rid the house of some of the clutter.
- Sometimes I can’t wait until it is their bedtime. Then, when they are asleep and the house is blissfully quiet, I check on them. I kiss their cool, little-boy foreheads. I hear them breathe deeply and watch them sleep the sleep of the all-played-out. I am filled nearly to knocked-over with love. I vow to be better. I promise I’ll be more patient. I insist that I’ll create a life-size replica of the Sphinx with them in our backyard as a craft project. And then I forget all that in the morning during my first blinding rage of the day when they are fighting over who gets to open the new box of cereal.
- Sometimes the word “Mama” makes me want to drive sharp No. 2 pencils in my ears so I never have to hear it again.* It’s because some crazy request usually follows the word. (See No. 6.) Lately, I’ve been saying “No” as soon as I hear, “Mama, can you …” I tell myself that I am teaching them how to be self-sufficient. Really it is because I am JUST. SO. TIRED. I don’t have the energy to get them a drink or a snack/untie a knot/put their towels back up/twist off the cap/charge the battery/unstick the Legos/fix the airplane/find the foam dart in the tree, etc. I’m tired. I just want peace.
- I cannot do it all. I can do one thing at a time well, but not all things at all times. If I am being the best mother, then I am sucking at being a wife or an employee. Or maybe I don’t suck and I’m worrying for nothing. And then I suck for wasting time worrying.
I’m often teetering over the pit of despair because I think I am a horrible person. Then I read pieces like this, and I think, “I am normal.”
It’s now my mantra.
To all of you moms out there, let it out. Confess your sins. I won’t judge.
Yours in solidarity,
Beth
* That’s hyperbole, of course. Don’t call someone on my behalf.
No judgement here. I basically love mine about 1/2 the time and abhor them the other 1/2….hubby too. I am not proud but I try to be honest.
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You are an honest equal opportunity abhorer.
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I hear you!! It gets better, I promise. As they get older, they quietly gravitate to their bedrooms, chat on their phones with their friends and completely ignore you. I have to go and check on both of my kids to see if they are still alive. AND when we need to do the ordinary, mundane things, like shopping, library runs, etc.– they actually want to stay home.
When Matthew and Sarah were much younger, I section out an hour of “family time” (around dinnertime) where they can tell Joel and I anything they wanted while we chatted, laughed and ate. After homework, everyone had an opportunity for quiet time. This is the time where we took time to wind-down from the day’s activities. And yes, I always had to reminded them (sometimes in a “don’t bother me or I will bite” type voice), this is mommy’s time to relax. But during quiet time, they learned to play with themselves and solve problems. It wasn’t easy, but it worked for us.
By the way, Sarah was a counselor at the SPACE Art camp when your boys were there. Dominic was in her group.
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So THAT’s who it was I saw with him! I knew she looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her apart from you and Joel. Dominic loved her!
Great idea. Thanks!
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I confess:
I thought (pre-motherhood) that bedtime would be a blissful affair that would leave me longing for their little noses, fingers and toes – a cooing storytime hour. Now, with two who can’t seem to sit next to eachother without hair pulling, biting, book throwing or shouting about ‘she’s messing it up!’ with her natural curiosity – or maybe mimicking insane behavior of her 3 year old counterpart? – I too, confess I CHERISH alone, quiet time. I look forward to sneaking in their dark rooms and kissing their heads, ensuring blankies and cuddles are in place and then for a moment feel the twinge of selfishness as I do a happy dance.
I peel out of daycare and crank up my stereo.
I hide the good snacks (even from my husband).
Our (amazing) babysitter is my favorite person.
While I was jealous “dada” was my daughter’s first word, sometimes I hate that “mommy” is all she says/needs these days.
I miss sleeping past 7 and going to brunch at 1 on the weekends.
I don’t want to fast forward, or go in reverse and not have these wonderful, little people – so I am constantly in a state of learning to improve the here and now – this kind of sucks.
I feel it’s lot of pressure to be the voice of reason, boo-boo healer, plan-maker, peace-maker, even-toned oracle when I really just want to stomp my feet, pout, scream, or watch what I want to on tv.
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YES! And it’s hard not to know the “right” thing to do, even though there is no “right” thing.
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Sometimes after I drop them off I think about how much gas I have in the car and how far I can get before having to stop. I agree, sometimes I think childless people have got it good. I spend about 10 minutes sitting on the toilet just because they generally are at least on the other side of the door, even if they aren’t leaving me alone. I grumble about cuddling them at night as they try to go to sleep and then in the morning when I kiss them awake, I think why was I grumbling they are such angels. Then they start to whine and I want a mute button. What gets me through is knowing they will grow up and leave and that when they do, it will be much to clean, orderly, and quiet in my life.
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Yes, quiet! (And a little sad. I know.)
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Thanks for putting it all out there. Those things we all feel but are too embarrassed to admit out loud. I love the sound of silence and I do an internal happy dance when my 4 and 6 year olds fall asleep quickly. Once, when my husband was out of town for a week, I wondered what would happen if I put my kids (then 2 and 4) in a box at the curb with a sign “free to a good home” like puppies. I wouldn’t trade my life with my kids for anything in the world but I definitely have those moments when I crave that childless peace and quiet.
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Because we are embarrassed, we don’t talk about it. One day, we let it slip and realize we are JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE with our doubts and fears. And there is much rejoicing.
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14 and 8, both boys. Their father passed when we were expecting our second. As someone who has to do it all, by herself, while putting up with his evil family … I can sooooooo totally relate. My youngest was born with PDD-nos, which means he’s autistic but we can’t say what end of the scale he is, so I have had more work than the average bear. After being a working mom, to going to a stay at home because my son has health issue’s mom … I can say, with much guilt, I could not wait to get back to work and am hoping to get a part time job as well.
I have even cried for feeling so incredibly guilty for just wanting a day to myself. Wanting them to stop trying to tell me stories that go like this: “and then the thing goes into that place, you know, the place that I was telling you about … and then they go over to the other place ….” while I smile and hope they don’t quiz me on it.
I apologize for any grammatical issues but we just got back from an outing and they have sucked the last ounce of reasoning from my brain.
P.S. I really love my boys and am hugely grateful I was not blessed with two girls. No offense to any Moms with girls, I happen to be a tomboy and that would have sucked for me big time.
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Oh wow. You DID have more work. Good for you for making it through with your sanity intact!
Don’t feel guilty. If moms don’t get time for themselves occasionally, then it makes them less patient, more short-tempered, etc. It’s better if you can be you once in a while and not just “Mom” 24/7.
Those stories they tell that ramble on forever KILL me. Read this confessional from Anne Lamott: http://www.salon.com/1998/10/29/29lamo_2/
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