A few weeks ago I sat around a table with several wonderful women, conversing about our shared experiences of the difficutly of mothering the second time around – daughters for the lot of us. Whether it be the differences in habits, the presence of baby-sized estrogen hormones or our own lack of patience after parenthood lost its shiny newness, we each expressed that this time around has been a bit more challenging. I renewed my belief that, other than “I love you” the strongest words you can share with a person are, “Yeah, me too.”
Motherhood has an interesting way of bringing you together; whether at the grocery store, looking over a screaming child and seeing a mom give a “been there, it’s okay” glance or times of offering how-tos. Often I feel very fortunate to share my experiences with so many women who, though we all choose different methods, are living parallel, albeit sleepless, struggles.
The irony enters when I consider that much of the community I feel among my co-mom family and friends may exist because of our shared experience in the solitary nature of our mom job. Now most of these ladies are very happy with the amount of shouldered responsibilities put forth by their husbands; I feel my own is quite the superdad. But there’s something about the fact that no one really cares about your kid’s poop that gives mothering a sense of aloneness. Perhaps it’s the nights where it’s just you and the baby… or it could be the evenings you feel a bit trapped in your own home, starved for social conversation. Whatever the case, no matter the strength of partnership you share in the household, I believe mothering has a lonely side.
After some recent reflection, I decided it’s not how you do the job of mothering, it’s simply ingrained in the job description. I feel quite loved by my husband and family – this is not one of those times where I fear no one will come to my funeral – but it’s a new and different experience to love someone, such as your child, so deeply and feel in exchange needed. Now, I don’t doubt my toddler’s affection and his hugs and kisses prove his allegience. But when you get down to our daily life, my kids need me more than than they choose me. They mostly prefer me to complete strangers when it comes to wiping duties, but the nature of my love sometimes yearns for more. Not friendship (I firmly believe that’s not my job as a parent), and not romance. But when you’re used to love as a partnership, shouldering most of the weight of a relationship can feel uncomfortable and wearing. And yet, that’s what it means to be a parent. (And we’re only on the maiden voyage; I realize that we haven’t hit the older stages of “I hate you” or the teenage “You’re ruining my life!” antics).
I regularly read a blog of a pastor who had recently reflected on his life and the role of his recently passed father. One lesson told of his father’s joy when he became wanted rather than needed. While I first read this as true and powerful, I hadn’t yet identified its depths specifically as a parent. I will be needed before I’m wanted. It’s part of the process of love. (And the process works – I love my own parents dearly and we regularly choose to spend time with them because we enjoy them).
The journey of loving our children seems like walking a road alone, together. Many travelers join us – first and foremost my husband – but yet our pace and patterns are just enough different that the path can feel lonely. The best we can do is offer one another encouragement while take on the next mile.
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Thanks to both great genes and growing up such atmosphere, I have the marketable quality of being able to converse with a brick wall. Not just a nod & “how you doin’?” but a full out conversation about the wall’s feelings and inner make up of rock and mortar (“really, so they they add the water after and then mix it on the board? Intriguing!). Yes, I thank my parents for this unique and sometimes tragic gift. It consistently makes me the last person out of church, no matter if I go to my own church or not. Husband loves that.
My father has the trait by nature, probably a gift from my grandmother. It’s fascinating, actually. He’ll ask a question, listen to your answer and actually be interested in your perspective. Now, he’s not perfect… he’ll probably ask “what?” a few times. One of my favorite examples of this was when we were in Mexico and took a cab to the market. Dad would ask – in English – a question to the cabbie. Sister or I would translate. Cabbie would answer, in Spanish. Sister or I would translate. We thought Dad was just being polite until he KEPT ASKING QUESTIONS. Oh, it drove us crazy. But that’s his nature.
Now my mother’s talking skills come from trade. As a hair dresser, you take “chatting with ackward people 102” in beauty school. I’ve been to a stylist who got a C in that class. Not comfortable.
However, in my ability to chat comes a tendency to find common ground. This, my friends, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not all the time. But it can be.
I’m finding that my lack of empathy and understanding of others comes when I same-plane them. I put whatever they’re dealing with into the realm of my own experiences. I do it as a way to understand, but what actually happens is that I belittle their experiences. Case in point, next time I hear a mom complain about her baby not sleeping, the temptation will be to great to not say, “oh, we’ve been there, it’s awful, it lasted at least 3 weeks…” But her child not sleeping is not like my child not sleeping. Though I want her to feel as if she’s not alone in her struggle, I need also to pay attention that I don’t make her feel as if her struggle is invalid. When a person is down and out, the last thing they want to hear is how someone has it worse – it only makes them hate their situation AND feel like a whiner.
So this is my Lentan quest. To listen, to ask, and to keep myself out of it. When I hear a story, to not feel compelled to offer my own version of it. To talk about myself less and the other person more. In my conversations with KLR about “what this will look like”, I’ve had to nail down some specifics about my Lent. So by “talking about myself less” I don’t mean that I won’t answer questions about what’s going on with me and my family when asked. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop blogging about my life because, frankly, it’s what keeps me sane. But rather, I’ll stop talking about myself in the context of conversations to and about others. And I hope that 40 days from now I’ll be a better, more compassionate listener.
Sometimes we just need to stop and take inventory about the good things. I haven’t done that lately. My own fault; perhaps a change in perspective will yield a super weekend.
H – 2 years, 3 months
- Words, words words. He’s saying things that I never realized he knew. What fun! He was practicing colors with grandma last night and he was counting his ginormous bowling pins the other day. I’m not convinced they were all numbers, or in the right order, but he was counting.
- Love, love, love. He loves his sis. Sometimes when I’m rocking her and she’s putting out some noise, he’ll bring in his beloved Buckeye to make sister feel better. Too sweet.
- The other morning I opened his door to wake him up and Miss M beat me in the door. She crawled over to say good morning and H just cackled in delight.
- Sometimes he even comes to “her level” – crawling in a game of chase, showing her how to go down the stairs backward. I love how he enjoys playing with her.
- For having an issue with hearing, he’s a good listener. Sometimes he’ll tell you “no” at a request, but immediately follow instructions. I suppose he’s just showing that he’s doing it because he wants to, not because I said so, right?
- I went to pick him up from the sitters’ and told him it was time to go. He immediately started picking up his toys. Be. Still. My. Heart.
- We’re learning to dress oureself; socks can be a bit tricky but we’ve almost got shoes mastered. Correct feet optional.
- The potty training is in a good place. Still a few issues with the poo-poo, as he knows it’s coming but not exactly sure when. So we still do diapers at nap and night time as he typically doesn’t wake up, but we’ll move on that later, when I’m not so tired from dealing with the other one. I can handle 2 diapers a day.
- He LOVES to play outside. Whether in snow, mud or pretty grass, he’s dying to get out the back door. The other day he put on his shoes and asked for his coat so he could go out.
- He’s started to give personalities to his stuffed animals and toys. Lion is a new favorite, whom he potty trained and was feeding. We learned the other day that Lion’s name is “Beans.” I have no idea.
Miss M
- Though we’ve had some significant sleeping issues, she’s happy as a lark during the daytime. I guess she wants to be allowed to stay in the family :).
- She suddenly decided to give up her binky, which was a surprise. Though the going-to-sleep process was easier with it, I suppose it’s a good thing to get through this period earlier. H’s attachment to the stupid thing has only grown, I fear he’ll take it to prom.
- She LOVES stairs. Not just one flight at a time – we’ll be in the basement and within a minute she’s upstairs. We’re still working on going down. She’s still learning that head-first isn’t the best option.
- She’s doing good with food and enjoys most everything. I should be better about offering her more variety, but that’s probably true of my whole family. What do you mean you’re tired of pasta?
- She adores her brother. All she wants is whatever he’s doing. Thus the forward-facing stair attempts.
The parentals
Husband found out this week that though the teacher whom he his subbing for did put in her retirement, she will be returning following spring break, so his long-term sub job will be reletively short-lived. Hopefully these several weeks will be enough to prove to the principal that they want ot hire him for next year. He really likes the school, the students and the staff, so we have our hopes high – though this would require a move. :(. But it’s a great career opportunity and my work has been flexible and I believe I’ll be able to work remotely.
We’re now slumlords. Well, collegiate slumlords. On a joint venture we invested in a house near campus with hopes to have it rented next year. It was a good deal, the more advanced slumlords in our life all thought it was a good move. Which reminds me, my assignment was to call AEP today…
And lastly, we’re on a mission to find a mini-van. Now that husband’s drive time will be shorting starting in April, we can start looking again. Anyone want a 03 Accord, 2 doors, runs like a dream? I’m so sad to be selling it. I thought I’d have my first kid driving the thing, but the 2 doors just isn’t helpful with a gaggle of children.
As for me, I’d give away a rental house for the opportunity to have a margarita. This pregnancy is lasting 10 years it seems, and I’m only halfway!