Let's Get Real

Parenting is tough work. In a world where having babies has become the new fashion accessory we are losing sight of the enormous responsibility that comes with children. The glossy colored magazines showing celebrity moms out walking in their size 0 clothing with the headline, "How Did She Shed Her Pregnancy Pounds in Two Weeks?" are just plain wrong.

On a feminist level they are wrong because women's bodies are constantly scrutinized and there is a new expectation that women pop back into shape within a few months of birth. On a humanist level we are not seeing a glimpse of the father's role in parenting nor the toll it takes on the family as a unit. On a mother-to-mother level it pits mothers against each other -- who can have the next baby? who can come up with the best name? who can look gorgeous sooner?

I remember after Jennifer Lopez had her twins she secluded herself for several months avoiding the papparazzi and bonding with her babies. When she finally did a photo spread in Vanity Fair the pictures were quite shocking. I think they were going for high-fashion motherhood or maybe artsy. But the result was so out of touch with modern motherhood. I specifically remember a picture of Jennifer dressed in a fancy dress, high heels, pearls with her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She was kicking up her back heel while pushing one of the twins in an expensive pram on a pebble covered driveway leading to a mansion. Her husband was equally well-dressed with a look of glee on his face pushing the other pram.

I realize this is all to sell magazines. But the underlying tone is that she has it all -- fame, fortune, motherhood, and the same banging body she had pre-babies. The entire article was filled with quotations about how wonderful motherhood is, how fantastic the experience has been, and how "easy" the twins are. There wasn't an ounce of "we haven't slept in four weeks" or "I can't remember the last time I took a shower" or "I want to kill my husband sometimes."

I know that celebrities have a lot more resources than the average mom. And I know they don't owe the public a thing in terms of exposing the hard truths of their lives. But once in awhile it would be nice for a little nugget of the truth the seep through somewhere. Motherhood has been glamorized; more importantly, having a "baby" has been glamorized.

Babies stay babies for approximately 2.5 seconds. Before you know it they are toddlers tearing up your house and wearing you down. Then they are crankly preschoolers scowling at you because you spread the peanut butter on the bread the wrong way. None of this is seen in the lens of modern motherhood.

It goes without saying that, yes, babies are wonderful. The bonding process with a newborn is unmatched. Children change you for the better. They melt your heart and open up places inside you that you didn't know existed. But, dammit, there are some parts that are horrible, disgusting, and downright taxing on a mother's emotional and physical self.

Let's get real, people. Lying to each other doesn't bring us closer together. It pits us against one another. Let's set each other free and speak the truth once in awhile.

In Defense of Naps

I don't know how I could get through my day if the kids didn't nap. And my three-and-a-half year old is getting dangerously close to giving up naps entirely. It has been a constant source of displeasure in our household for months now.

Clearly there are some days that he needs a nap. On those days he might complain a bit about napping but eventually he quiets down and sleeps for a good two hours. Then there are other days where he complains a lot and plays for a good hour in his room before collapsing somewhere on his floor.

But mostly he fights me on naps. We do our regular routine of lunch, a book, a song and then I tuck him in bed. As I am about to walk out of the room he suddenly has a new complaint which is usually in concert with kicking and screaming at me. I tell him that he needs to nap so that he's not grouchy in the afternoon. But as I close the door I just know that we will have at least two hours of battle. He'll play loudly in his room, open the door several times to swear that he has slept or he'll poop in his Pull-Up and need me to change it. Sometimes I meet this struggle with calmness and determination. Other times I turn into "savage mama" with unkind words and veiled threats of punishment. These are the days I abhor.

Mainly because I need a break so badly during the day. I eat my lunch uninterrupted, catch up on my email, study for school and best of all, nap. Yes, I too am a huge napper. The couch and I get along really well. It takes me about five minutes to fall asleep once I lay my head on the couch. Call it exhaustion or sleep training or the just being a mom, I can fall asleep easily in the afternoon.

So, I don't know what happens next. I know that I need downtime and I'm pretty sure that despite his clamoring my big boy needs some downtime. When naps go away completely I'll have to come up with something else to ensure that sanity remains in this house. Until then I'll vehemently defend naps.

Just out of curiosity

How much quality time does a good enough mama give her children on a daily basis? Participate in our poll!

Mama the Monster

This morning, I was chatting on-line with a "service" representative for our internet provider. I had an email delivery problem. Namely, I was only getting some of it, not all of it -- which is maddening, to the point of feeling like a crisis.

"Monica" was unhelpful and unsympathetic.

As my blood pressure rose, my fingers clacking away with increasing speed and force, my children -- predictably -- began to lose patience with my inattention. They began to play more and more raucously. First with each other, and then by poking and prodding at me.

I was too immersed in my frustrating exchange with "Monica" to react to them -- though their escalating maniacal laughter, squealing and poking were having the effect of nails on a chalkboard. But then. Just as I reached for the mouse to send off a particularly heated reply, my older daughter grabbed the mouse and took off running.

Well.

I chased her and, when I caught her, I growled TERRIBLE growls and gnashed TERRIBLE teeth and rolled TERRIBLE eyes. I snatched the mouse from her and stalked back to the computer where I slammed the send button and then gnashed my teeth some more.

And my daughter, who requests Where the Wild Things Are nearly every night, did not take Max's example. When she encountered Mama-the-Monster, she began to cry.

To me, being a 'good enough' mama doesn't mean getting it right all of the time, but it also doesn't mean that getting it wrong is okay. It means trying, always, to weigh honestly and appropriately the importance of what I get right vs. what I get wrong -- and to keep the scale clearly heavy on "the right."

Today I got it wrong. I was in a crazy, heart-thumping, seeing-red rage. And I lost it -- with the stranger via "chat," but more importantly, with my daughter, innocent of all but the inability to understand that sometimes it's best to let Mama do her thing from a little bit of a distance.

That's not good and I'm really sorry I yelled at her. I'm really sorry I scared her.

But it isn't the end of the world for her to discover that among the varieties of normal human emotion is rage. Even mamas have it. Nor is it bad for her to see that a person can be very angry without resorting to violence.

Further, I hope she also recognized in my aftermath that when we are not nice to the people we love we feel bad.

These are lessons worth knowing.

Of course, I didn't set out to teach her any of that today, but I nonetheless hope some of that comes across in what I do get right: caring. Caring for her. Caring about being a good enough mother and person. Caring about what that means. And caring enough to keep trying to get as much right as I can, even if sometimes that means cutting Mama-the-Monster a bit of slack.

Dirty Stroller Blues

Keeping a clean stroller is not one of my strengths. In fact, I would say it's one of my weaknesses.

I remember in my life before children looking at a dirty stroller and making assumptions about the kind of home the child lived in. I went so far as to feel sorry for the child. Poor baby, sitting in a stroller with stains and crumbs and broken toys.

Now I realize that having a dirty stroller comes with the territory, especially with two children. We live in our stroller. It takes us from Point A to Point B without guzzling gas while mama gets some exercise and the kids enjoy the walk. My stroller is filled with graham crackers and their crumbs, spilled milk, dust, books, toys, dirty wipes and clean wipes, sand (and lots of it), empty Starbucks cups, straws, keys, diaper bag, blankets, jackets, lip balm, Goldfish, fruit, and a broken cellular phone. It is our house on wheels.

There was a time when I tried to keep it clean. But the reality is the stroller lives outside. And when we get back from the park or a walk or whatever the first thing on my list is to get the kids INSIDE and then FED and then DOWN FOR A NAP. Always in that order. Then it's my time to clean the kitchen, the bathroom, the living room, etc. from the early morning romp. The last thing I want to do is go back outside and clean the damn stroller.

I still get a touch of embarrassment when we meet someone new who has a clean stroller. But then I realize that strollers are meant to be lived in. It shows that we have a life outside of our house. One that is filled with walks and playdates and park visits. When it is all said and done we'll send the stroller off onto a nice retirement.

One day its job will be over.

My "Good Enough" Moment

I was talking to a mom at the park today, an aquaintance who I hold in high regard. We got on the subject of preschools in the area and the pressure to pick just the right one. Our struggles were so similar.

I didn't do a broad search of preschools. There was one right down the street within walking distance. I'd watched the teachers monitor the children on the playground since the birth of my son. It was through the city's parks and recreations department and was by far one of the least expensive in town.

When my son finally got in I breathed a sigh of relief. Firstly, I actually got him into a preschool in town. Secondly, he was right down the street. And thirdly, I finally had two and a half hours to devote to my baby. And a little bit of time for myself.

And then all of a sudden I started talking to other moms. Moms who were actually doing research on preschools. They called and set up appointments, made charts to track pros and cons, and had a list of definite NO's. They seemed to be doing so much more work than me.

Most of these moms were good friends of mine. I suddenly questioned my decision to place him in the school down the street. It wasn't the best preschool in all of Sacramento, by far. I then spent weeks agonizing over my decision and waiting to hear what everyone else was going to do with the children. I just assumed since all my neighbors sent their kids down the street it would be good enough for our family.

Months have now passed and I've gotten new perspective on everything. I've made the right decision for my son. He loves where he is. It's within our budget. It's walking distance from the house. It's a good fit for our family.

The friend from the park reiterated these feelings. She said she felt fine sending her son to his preschool until she started talking to other moms. The opinions of others can creep slowly into your brain. She began to second-guess herself. Then she remembered her mantra, "I just want to be a good enough mother."

She has to find what works for her family. She doesn't need to send her son to the most expensive preschool in town for him to sail through kindergarden. She doesn't have to stress herself out keeping up with all of her friends. Her life and resources are just plain different from other families. She needs time away from her son.

Maybe "good enough" mother sounds terrible to some people. But it rang true to me. I have to find my comfort zone in motherhood. I have to trust my instincts. I have to evaluate the needs of my family first, not the needs of everyone else.

Good enough is great enough for me.

A Good Enough Welcome

All Good Enough Mamas (GEMs) are invited to participate in this blog. Please, send us your essays about what makes a mama "good enough," or your personal stories about being good enough, or your realizations about how trying to be more than "good enough" will make a good woman crazy. (See "Submissions" in the side bar to the left.) Or, just add your comments to the essays you find here.

GEMs feel the pressure to be perfect, or super, or even just really "great" mamas. We know a love for our children that has a depth and commitment beyond any other relationships we have. They are joy and wonder and love incarnate. They enrich our lives immeasurably. We would die for them. We can't imagine -- and most of the time, wouldn't want to, and try not to, imagine -- life without them.

So, there. Consider it already said. Here, you don't have to prove all of that first before you go on to say that sometimes they also make life a little (or a lot) harder than it was before them.

The voices that call us to a more perfect ideal of motherhood than we can deliver may come from our children, partners, parents, or culture -- and certainly, and most significantly, they come from within. They tell us our job is to keep our children from all harm, all disappointment, all illness, and all neuroses -- and to do it always with patience, resourcefulness, quick wits, creativity, self-sacrifice, and good cheer.

But, knowing that we will inevitably fall short of that, we ask this question: What is a good enough mama?

How do YOU answer that question?