I'm an avid reader and can't get enough of books. As a mum and child health nurse, alot of my reading matter is parenting material (good and bad, all different philosophies). I can't help but tell friends the good points about certain books that really capture my attention and they either ask for the name/author or, if they're not so keen readers, ask me to summarise it for them.
I have just read a book that has left quite an impression on me and that I want to remember for all of my children's childhood. I had planned to 'take notes' from it and decided this is as a good a place as any to do it cos then friends can read it too and there's a summary for them! Yes, I'm back in school doing book reviews (which, of course, being such a reader, I always liked!).
So, book review number one, a library book (of course...most of them are...I LOVE the library and rarely buy books) called "Siblings Without Rivalry" by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish. I borrowed it because it is one of my goals that my children will be great friends and really enjoy each other's company. I am not so silly that I dream of no fighting at all, but I just really hope for them and for us as a family that they will grow up really liking each other and leaning on each other and being supportive mates. And if their individual personalities don't allow for this, I'd like to do everything I can do to make co-existing in the same house for 18 years a pleasant-enough experience for us all!
The dedication says "To all the grown-up siblings who still have a hurt child inside them" and alot of the book talks about how our individual experience as a sibling can affect us for our whole lives, emotionally, behaviourally and in every context to do with all our relationships. There are some horror stories out there! But I am very lucky...with an age gap of 6 years and my naturally maternal personality and my sister's naturally easy-going pleasant personality, my little sister and I have never suffered anything remotely approaching sibling rivalry. No physical stuff, no emotional stuff...I can't remember any dissent in our relationship at all. She may differ in opinion remembering back to her teenage years when she had 2 bossy mums, rather than just one, but in all, I think she would agree. We are good friends now, not the best of friends who talk everyday (we are after all in completely different stages in life, not to mention different generations!), but we are very close nonetheless.
During the first chapter, the history of different individual's sibling relationships are discussed, leading on to their own wishes for their own children. The author talks of being on a rollercoaster of hoping her kids would be friends, saying that everytime they played nicely, she was elated, then when they didn't, she would despair that they hated each other and "it's all my fault" (ah the mother-guilt that we have about EVERYTHING!). She said that eventually she gave up the 'good friends' dream and replaced it with a focus on equipping them with the attitudes and skills they'd need for all their caring relationships. She wanted to teach them to really listen to each other, to respect their differences, to find ways to resolve their differences, so at least they could have the power to make and be a friend.
She then points out that as far as children are concerned, you having another child can be, to them, similar to your spouse saying "honey, I love you so much and you're so wonderful that I've decided to have another wife just like you". In this common circumstance, it is very beneficial to just listen and acknowledge how the children are feeling when they complain, verbally or physically, about their sibling. Comments such as "It must be very hard for you having her around all the time", "you take as much time as you want to tell me all about what's bothering you", "I want to know exactly how you feel because your feelings are very important to me". She says that comments like these can go a long long way to calm an upset child. Just the fact that you've heard, listened and acknowledged can soothe a situation. It goes back to the old 'communication skills' learnings, stuff that if used every moment of everyone's life, the world would be a more peaceful place!
She suggests having the kids say to you (as opposed to yelled abusively to each other!) or write down or draw how they're feeling about their sibling in moments of anger or dissent, rather than physically attacking. It seems that "insisting on good feelings between the children led to bad feelings and allowing for bad feelings between the children led to good feelings".
The next chapter discusses the Perils of Comparisons, and warns parents that children bring enough fiercely competitive feelings to the sibling relationship on their own without help from us grown-ups. We need to be very aware to not compare in any way, even the simple little things like "Lisa has such beautiful table manners, why do you always use your fingers to eat?", "your brother always gets his homework done before you" etc. Common behavioural responses were "if i can't be best at being best, I'll be best at being worst" and "I'll never be what you want me to be so why try?" Children can feel inadequate, angry, resentful. Even the child coming off best in the comparison can suffer from it (such as if complimented on being the orderly one, she will feel the pressure to live up to being orderly in order to gain your approval).
Instead of comparing to each other, describe what you see/like/don't like without any reference to a sibling. It is important that they know that their parents see them as separate individuals and that any thing they do can be praised or disciplined for its own merits (including sporting and academic achievements).
And onto treating children equally...is it possible or necessary? Is is necessary to buy them both new pyjamas just because you've had to go shopping for the one who outgrew hers? Is it necessary to stress out because one child claims that his pancake is smaller than his siblings? No. In terms of material things, it all evens out over childhood and children should be taught to not expect the same thing as their sibling everyday. In terms of the inevitable question "who do you love more?", instead of saying "I love you all the same", one suggestion is to tell each child how they're loved uniquely, such as "each of you is special to me. Noone has your thoughts, your feelings, your smile. You're the only you in the whole world and 'm so glad you're my daughter". She writes "Children don't need to be treated equally, they need to be treated uniquely". Instead of giving equal amounts, give according to need (eg. "do you want a few grapes or a big bunch?", rather than "here, now you have as many as your brother".) Instead of giving equal time, give according to need at that time, but with the promise that you will there for the other child when finished.
The next chapter discusses 'Siblings in Roles' and how easy it is to imply to your children that they are good or bad at certain things or have certain personality traits that then make them live that role everyday. Or conversely, by implying that one sibling is a certain way, then the other may have the attitude "well, if he's that, I'll be this." Birth order can greatly affect the way we treat children and how they see themselves, and this shouldn't be set in stone. Children need freedom to change and as parents, we can affect that with our subtle ways. We can treat them, not as they are, but how we hope they will become, in a self-fullfilling prophecy kind of way. Instead of expecting the 'bully' in your family to be mean and cruel, as we fall into the trap of doing, expect kindness, and pull him up saying something like "you have a superior capacity to be nice, now use it!"
"Children are born with different personality traits but as parents we have the power to influence those traits to give nature a helping hand. Use that power wisely and let's not place our children in roles that will defeat them." We can free a bully to be compassionate and free a victim to be strong, by helping them see their own capacity for something different. Be aware of not locking a child into a role.
Along with this, instead of focusing on children's disabilities, focus on their abilities, by always encouraging abilities with your languange, accept their frustration (and teach them to do the same), appreciate what they have accomplished however imperfect, help in focusing on solutions.
Fighting. Inevitable but there are ways to handle it. Ignore the normal bickering and tell yourself that it's an important lesson in conflict resolution. If the situation is heating up, the author keeps in mind the following steps while approaching a fight. Start by acknowledging the children's anger towards each other and that alone should help calm them. Listen to each child's side with respect. Show appreciation for the difficulty of the problem. Express faith in their ability to work out a mutually agreeable solution. Offer simple solutions if necessary but leave them to talk it over and work it out. Leave the room.
When the fight is heading toward hurting, there are more steps. Step one is Describe what you see (eg. "I see a boy about to throw a truck and another boy about to hit with a bat and both are furious"), Establish limits (eg."This is a dangerous situation, we need a cooling off period"), Separate them (eg."Quick, you to your room, you to yours"). This gives them time to calm down and they know that you are protecting them both.
Family or group meetings may be helpful for difficult conflicts, where everyone is allowed to express their point of view (feelings and concerns) in a mature controlled matter, each suggest different solutions and agree on solutions. This brings it to a more mature way of dealing with matters that allow children to think it through and talk responsibly.
Sharing. Huge. Some suggestions in the book for encouraging sharing are to put the children in charge of sharing (have them suggest solutions), point out the advantages of sharing, allowing time for inner processing of a child, by showing appreciation when it happens spontaneously, by modelling sharing yourself.
This is most of what I got out the book but there is way more and I'd recommend it as a good helpful read. I'll be reading it again as my kids get older, and reflecting on these notes too to remind me over the years. Communicate well and kindly and hope for the best!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
No more babies?!
I've had a few hours home alone today...no husband, no kids, no tv, not even any music on. I was sorting out some stuff in the spare room and in Chelsea's room today, and started feeling a little introspective. For a start, the stuff in the spare room was boxes of books and journals and old calenders and letters and photo frames that I haven't seen since I left home over 10 years ago. Mum and Dad recently cleaned out their garage so that of course involved getting rid of stuff to me. I sorted alot of it into the bookshelf, some into the recycling bin, re-did some photos in frames and was feeling, i can't find the word, old and reflective but young again, remembering all that childhood/teenage stuff.
Then I moved to Chelsea's room, where all clothes that don't fit either child anymore have been thrown into boxes in semi-organised chaos over the last few months. I went through them all, reorganising into boxes, one for a friend with a baby girl, one for the Salvos, one for a cousin if she has a boy. Then I tidied up the clothes given to us for Chelsea in size 2, 3 and 4, all ready to go. Then I came across some baby stuff that last clean-up I kind of just left there not really knowing what to do with them.
I was already feeling rather reflective, now I started getting even more so, and a bit broody too.
I clutched the bassinet mattress cover to me for a minute before putting it in the box.
I held up the newborn Snug as a Bug and marvelled at how tiny it is, before putting it too in a box.
I shook out the Grobag that my children wore to bed nearly every night for a total of probably over 2 years between them, and reminisced over bedtimes and sleepless nights.
I folded the Jolly Jumper away in the box with a smile at remembering 4 month old chuckles.
Then I came to the slings and this is where it really hit me. I have owned about 5 different kind of baby carriers since becoming a mum. I LOVED carrying my babies around in a sling. From the laydown cradly sling, to the against-my-chest cosy sling, to the big bit of material that I learnt to drape in 4 different ways for different holds and ages. I carried them around for hours and hours total and I LOVED it.
Tony and I have decided that we are not having any more children. We are so happy with who we have, 2 amazing adorable healthy little miracles, who make us feel so blessed. There are many reasons not to add to our family, selfish ones, practical ones, health ones. And I am 90% happy with our decision, 90% of the time. I sometimes fantasise about having a 'second family' when these 2 start school, doing it all again, enjoying 1 or 2 new little miracles. But practically-wise, I know this will probably not happen. We will have moved on to that next stage of parenting, family activities and freedom.
But I have no doubt that for the rest of my life, 10% of me will want another baby or 2 or 3. Babies are so special and soft and cuddly. I know I was a good 'baby-mum', and I like to think it was not just because I had 'good' babies.
But bringing it back to where my mind started going this way today, the slings. If we never have another baby, I will probably never carry another baby in a sling. This makes me feel kind of sad and gives me a strange longing. To be getting ready to give my slings away really made me want to grab back the baby years, experience them again. I am giving all that stuff to my cousin, who at 37 is having her first baby and is so excited. I am thrilled for her and so glad that I can help her out as so many people who had finished with their family's baby years helped me.
But my slings. They are hard to give away. There is one that I will not. The big bit of material I will keep and hand it down to my kids, justifying to myself in the meantime that it can be used as a picnic blanket or something (it won't). Giving away my slings, those bits of material that gave me such closeness and bonding with my precious babies, that feels like a definite goodbye to my baby-mum years. Ah broodiness. Thank goodness I will always work with babies and children. Now, bring on the grandkids!
Then I moved to Chelsea's room, where all clothes that don't fit either child anymore have been thrown into boxes in semi-organised chaos over the last few months. I went through them all, reorganising into boxes, one for a friend with a baby girl, one for the Salvos, one for a cousin if she has a boy. Then I tidied up the clothes given to us for Chelsea in size 2, 3 and 4, all ready to go. Then I came across some baby stuff that last clean-up I kind of just left there not really knowing what to do with them.
I was already feeling rather reflective, now I started getting even more so, and a bit broody too.
I clutched the bassinet mattress cover to me for a minute before putting it in the box.
I held up the newborn Snug as a Bug and marvelled at how tiny it is, before putting it too in a box.
I shook out the Grobag that my children wore to bed nearly every night for a total of probably over 2 years between them, and reminisced over bedtimes and sleepless nights.
I folded the Jolly Jumper away in the box with a smile at remembering 4 month old chuckles.
Then I came to the slings and this is where it really hit me. I have owned about 5 different kind of baby carriers since becoming a mum. I LOVED carrying my babies around in a sling. From the laydown cradly sling, to the against-my-chest cosy sling, to the big bit of material that I learnt to drape in 4 different ways for different holds and ages. I carried them around for hours and hours total and I LOVED it.
Tony and I have decided that we are not having any more children. We are so happy with who we have, 2 amazing adorable healthy little miracles, who make us feel so blessed. There are many reasons not to add to our family, selfish ones, practical ones, health ones. And I am 90% happy with our decision, 90% of the time. I sometimes fantasise about having a 'second family' when these 2 start school, doing it all again, enjoying 1 or 2 new little miracles. But practically-wise, I know this will probably not happen. We will have moved on to that next stage of parenting, family activities and freedom.
But I have no doubt that for the rest of my life, 10% of me will want another baby or 2 or 3. Babies are so special and soft and cuddly. I know I was a good 'baby-mum', and I like to think it was not just because I had 'good' babies.
But bringing it back to where my mind started going this way today, the slings. If we never have another baby, I will probably never carry another baby in a sling. This makes me feel kind of sad and gives me a strange longing. To be getting ready to give my slings away really made me want to grab back the baby years, experience them again. I am giving all that stuff to my cousin, who at 37 is having her first baby and is so excited. I am thrilled for her and so glad that I can help her out as so many people who had finished with their family's baby years helped me.
But my slings. They are hard to give away. There is one that I will not. The big bit of material I will keep and hand it down to my kids, justifying to myself in the meantime that it can be used as a picnic blanket or something (it won't). Giving away my slings, those bits of material that gave me such closeness and bonding with my precious babies, that feels like a definite goodbye to my baby-mum years. Ah broodiness. Thank goodness I will always work with babies and children. Now, bring on the grandkids!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Loving Two - Michael and Chelsea
The news that I was pregnant with baby no.2 earlier than we’d planned was the best Mother’s Day present ever but also quite scary. As the months progressed, I grew close to the little bump inside me and thought a lot about who it would be, but at the same time, there was guilt inside me that my special relationship with child no.1, only just one year old, would be changed forever. He was a wonder to his dad and me, a miracle who we were besotted with and very proud of. Our relationship was precious and close, and I worried about the changes his sibling would bring.
Then there was the guilt for baby no.2...how could I ever love him or her as much as I love child no.1? I had a dread that I wouldn’t be able to fulfil the most important role as a mum, to love my child unreservedly. I felt guilt at my concern that this new person would intrude on the special relationship that child no.1 and I shared.
But then, baby no.2 was born and the love I felt for her was as instant and complete as it had been 22 months earlier when child no.1 was born. Hormones came through for me and kick-started the journey of love, totally shocking me in its completeness. What hormones began, new little life in all her cuteness continued and I was besotted with her. In the 11 hours I had with her before taking her home to meet Child no.1, dozens of feelings were racing through me alongside new love. They were mostly happy and good, but also continuing guilt that I was betraying my firstborn with this love for my second, and fear that he would see that and thus feel betrayed, never to forgive me for my indiscretion.
I had no reason to worry. Child no.1 accepted his new baby sister into his world with excitement, joy, affection, love, curiousity, pride and protectiveness. She was immediately HIS, and it has remained that way since. My worries, fears and guilt were completely unfounded, as my firstborn had no hesitation in welcoming his sister into his life as his friend, playmate, giggler, partner in crime (against parents!) and pupil. There was no resentment, no acknowledgement that the love of his parents that was previously totally his is now shared. Perhaps parental love is never halved but the capacity the heart has for love doubles?
My most lasting impression from the journey of welcoming another member to our family is how I never even considered that we were giving Child no.1 a gift by having another baby. Although an optimistic person by nature, I could previously see only how everything from now on was going to be lessened as far as his world would be concerned... time, attention, love, patience. I failed to recognise that giving a child a sibling could be the most valuable present ever given. There’s more love, more company, more laughs, more adoration.
I also under-estimated, in my moments of guilt that baby no.2 would never have the experience of being a doted-on first child, just how much of an admirer role her big brother would take, giving her not 2 but 3 doters. He strokes her cheek lovingly, runs to her if she cries, lies with her and cuddles her gently. He shows off to her, doing anything in his power to make her chuckle, and then is so proud when she does. She has not only her mummy and daddy who are excited as she reaches each milestone, but a big brother too.
I watch as baby gazes in open amazement at her big brother, she totally adores him and it shows so openly in her little innocent face. I realise that there is nothing lost for either of them by becoming a big brother or by being the second child...they have in fact received their own special gifts as a consequence of being their place in the family. They may have to share our time and there never seems to be enough of it, but they also have each other’s time too. And not only do they not have to share our love, because there’s more than ever, but they receive each other’s love too, so love abounds like never before. 31st August 2008
Then there was the guilt for baby no.2...how could I ever love him or her as much as I love child no.1? I had a dread that I wouldn’t be able to fulfil the most important role as a mum, to love my child unreservedly. I felt guilt at my concern that this new person would intrude on the special relationship that child no.1 and I shared.
But then, baby no.2 was born and the love I felt for her was as instant and complete as it had been 22 months earlier when child no.1 was born. Hormones came through for me and kick-started the journey of love, totally shocking me in its completeness. What hormones began, new little life in all her cuteness continued and I was besotted with her. In the 11 hours I had with her before taking her home to meet Child no.1, dozens of feelings were racing through me alongside new love. They were mostly happy and good, but also continuing guilt that I was betraying my firstborn with this love for my second, and fear that he would see that and thus feel betrayed, never to forgive me for my indiscretion.
I had no reason to worry. Child no.1 accepted his new baby sister into his world with excitement, joy, affection, love, curiousity, pride and protectiveness. She was immediately HIS, and it has remained that way since. My worries, fears and guilt were completely unfounded, as my firstborn had no hesitation in welcoming his sister into his life as his friend, playmate, giggler, partner in crime (against parents!) and pupil. There was no resentment, no acknowledgement that the love of his parents that was previously totally his is now shared. Perhaps parental love is never halved but the capacity the heart has for love doubles?
My most lasting impression from the journey of welcoming another member to our family is how I never even considered that we were giving Child no.1 a gift by having another baby. Although an optimistic person by nature, I could previously see only how everything from now on was going to be lessened as far as his world would be concerned... time, attention, love, patience. I failed to recognise that giving a child a sibling could be the most valuable present ever given. There’s more love, more company, more laughs, more adoration.
I also under-estimated, in my moments of guilt that baby no.2 would never have the experience of being a doted-on first child, just how much of an admirer role her big brother would take, giving her not 2 but 3 doters. He strokes her cheek lovingly, runs to her if she cries, lies with her and cuddles her gently. He shows off to her, doing anything in his power to make her chuckle, and then is so proud when she does. She has not only her mummy and daddy who are excited as she reaches each milestone, but a big brother too.
I watch as baby gazes in open amazement at her big brother, she totally adores him and it shows so openly in her little innocent face. I realise that there is nothing lost for either of them by becoming a big brother or by being the second child...they have in fact received their own special gifts as a consequence of being their place in the family. They may have to share our time and there never seems to be enough of it, but they also have each other’s time too. And not only do they not have to share our love, because there’s more than ever, but they receive each other’s love too, so love abounds like never before. 31st August 2008
Monday, July 20, 2009
Emotional Rollercoasters
It's a week since I got out all my thoughts on here and as writing always does, it made me feel good and kind of cleansed. With words all clearly out, thoughts weren't circulating around my head in a random confused manner. It's been a good week.
And I've figured it out. Being head of a household, in charge of the daily runnings, feels like being a General in a war. Now, I don't mean to minimise war and its horrors, but in the 4 walls of our Kingdom, being mum is being the General in the war. I feel like i have my troops well-trained, organised, in control. Sometimes i'm even being super-General and organising extra training to entertain the troops, like craft or a box obstacle course. Feeling proud of them and of me, I begin to relax and enjoy.
BAM BOOM...a reminder that a mother, like a General, should never relax...a Bomb hits. The motive for the bomb may be unknown and seemingly insignificant, the blast was unexpected but the damage caused may be huge (certainly time-consuming and energy-draining). Maybe one of the troops was using the colour of pencil that the other wanted, or maybe the General left the troops happily at it to hang out the washing and this caused disorder to erupt. Whatever the motive, BAM, the bomb has hit and the rubble needs to be cleaned up and order resumed.
So, the General puts in the work to resume order, get the troops under control and happy once more, and starts again to relax into the knowledge that she is doing a good job with her Unit, and that she is, indeed, a worthy General. But again without warning, BAM, another bomb, maybe 2 minutes after the last, maybe up to an hour. Probably a different motive, but always the same result. Disorder in the warzone, chaos within the troops. More time and energy cleaning up the mess, whether it be physical or emotional mess.
And so the day goes on. And the next day too. In fact, everyday with toddlers is like this warzone. Unpredictable, unexplainable. A war is certainly not the best analogy because there is not the wonder and beauty and cuteness in the troops and daily moments as there is in a home with toddlers. And the majority of the most days are filled with the wonderful moments rather than the warzone ones. But there is enough unpredictability on a daily basis to make even the good days feel like being in a warzone, because mum is still on edge waiting for bombs, in whatever form, to hit.
It's the emotional rollercoaster that every day as a mum is. Toddlers go through myriad of emotions every hour, mostly at different times to each other. And then there is my emotions to contend with as well, often particularly tired, maybe hormonal, certainly not completely stable and predictable. It is my job, as their mum, psychologist, cousellor, moderator, to help them deal with their emotions, as one of the main functions of toddlerhood is learning about dealing with emotions for yourself. And sometimes i wonder, who am I to teach when I am an emotional person too? Surely they notice that I am not always consistent in my responses.
Either of them (or me!) can go from laughing to an argument to tears to laughing to frustration to laughing to anger to tantrums to wandering off to laughing again in a matter of minutes. I am exhausted after an hour of it some days, and wonder how I am going to get through the rest of the day. No matter how much sleep I got the night before, emotional times can tip me over the edge into exhaustion. It can be something seemingly so insignificant that causes great shifts in emotions in toddlers, so when i say "emotional times", it isn't even that something bad has happened like death or illness. One of them might have walked toward the other at the wrong moment, or one might be able to remove a lid off a container, or one maybe hasn't quite mastered the art of putting on shoes but really wishes she had...etc....and that's seemingly all that is needed for big overflowing emotions.
Emotional management is not even one of the 'tasks' that can be ticked off as having been completed for the day, because it is ongoing for all the hours they are awake (and some nights, even while they're asleep). Sometimes i manage it really well and feel very proud. I put them to the bed at the end of the day feeling that i am indeed SuperMum. Other days thought, i put them into bed feeling relief that their day is over, then when i check on my sleeping angels later, I feel so guilty and DevilMum-ish that i didn't handle every situation as well as these two amazing kids deserve.
Unpredictable. Exhausting. Emotional. But still worthwhile and wonderful and precious. I never want to take away from that because truly, it is the majority (most days!). Let me explain about that just quickly. I write all the wonderful things in my family photoalbums, which are like journals for me. All the beautiful family memories, the funny things they say and do, they are proudly documented there. Here in this purely written form that they may never read, it all sounds bad but that's just me getting these confused thoughts out and making sense of why i find some hours in some days (or all the days in some weeks) so damn hard.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Parenthood is HARD!
I would not change a thing about my life. I am blessed with two wonderful toddlers, a boy who's 3 and a bit and a girl who's 18 months old. I have a husband who is my best friend and an amazing father. I am mostly a stay-at-home mum, working one day a week as a community nurse, a job that I love at the moment and which is a step in the right direction for my future. On my work day, we are lucky enough to have grandparents who eagerly take care of and spoil the kids every week. I am fit and healthy, play hockey and have a designated exercise evening with a friend. My life is filled with very good friends from all areas of my life, and I can talk about anything at all with many of them. My family are financially comfortable and we don't have too many struggles. I am generally a positive upbeat person, seeing the bright side and laughing often. As I said, I would not change a thing about my life.
Why then, am I often resentful and confused about my days and my role as a mum and 'housewife'? The dialogue that travels through my head, which is shared and echoed in conversations with other mums, is not all rosy. It would not make anyone think that I do indeed feel very lucky in my life. I read widely, fiction and non-fiction, books, magazines, newspapers, internet articles. Occasionally I'll read something that strikes a chord and makes complete sense to me and seems to explain my inner dialogue. During the last week, I've had several of these revelations and this has enabled me to suddenly put into words the stuff that is going on in my head.
I think the main revelation is that no matter what the joys are, no matter what the rewards, PARENTHOOD IS HARD. The day-t0-day workings of a family are hard for parents, because it is relentless, tiring and often rewardless. It's hard to be a mum, no doubt it's hard to be a dad. It's hard to be a stay-at-home mum, no doubt it's hard to be a full-time working mum. It's hard if the children are 'easy' kids, it's no doubt harder if they are more challenging in their own ways. Parenthood is full-on and complex and (hopefully) the hardest thing we will ever do. Revelation number one seems so simple but it has taken me a while to admit that being a mum is hard, without qualifying it with "but it's worth it" or "but it's what I've always wanted". To put a full-stop after the 'hard' without adding any 'buts' is ok to do because IT'S HARD!
I heard about mother-guilt long before I was a mum. I knew in theory what people meant by it but you can't truly understand it till you're there, feeling it all the time. I realised last week that I feel guilty when I'm 'just' playing with my kids, because there's so much to be done around the house. And I feel guilty when I'm doing housework, because I should be playing with my kids. I feel guilty when I'm cooking, because that's always a time that the kids crave attention. I feel guilty when I'm not cooking because I want my kids to eat healthily and home-made. I feel guilty when I get angry at them and show my frustration. I feel guilty when I choose to ignore a behaviour because for that moment it's just easier rather than deal with it. I feel guilty when my husband walks in to find noise and chaos in the house because I'm too busy cooking tea or tidying up to entertain the kids. I feel guilty when my husband walks into find me 'just sitting and playing' with the kids when the house is bedlam. Get the picture?! The guilt I feel isn't over-riding, anxiety-producing guilt that is a mental health problem, it's just everday little niggles. And I know it is normal because my mum friends say much the same stuff. It's just Mother-Guilt.
And the worst thing is, it doesn't seem to be felt by men. It is not in their genetic make-up. My husband thought I was a little crazy when I explained all that and queried him about feeling guilty. He has no inkling of it at all. He can be blissfully unaware of what else is going on in the house as he sits at the computer surfing footy sites. It doesn't bother him if the kids are whinging or talking to him or the house is getting messier by the minute. He just does what he wants to do and tries to persuade me that he's teaching the kids independence by ignoring them. No guilt, not even the slightest question in his mind that it's not OK. And he is a great, involved, loving dad. But he is a male who was born without the Mother-Guilt gene.
Another revelation that I had while reading an article was that most mums in this generation, in their 'previous lives', have had careers, in which they were important with tasks to accomplish. The single thing that I struggle most with in my day-to-day life as a mum is the feeling that I cannot get anything finished in one attempt. Most of my tantrums are about "just wanting to finish what I am doing!" I feel I go through my days half-doing 1000 things, never stopping, getting to the end of the day feeling as though I have accomplished nothing. The house can still be a bomb-site, even though I feel as though I spent all day tidying up. The washing can still be unfinished, even though I started it at 6am. The dishwasher can still be full, even though I've started unpacking it 3 times. Things just get in the way and therefore I always feel unfinished and I find it an incredibly unsettling feeling.
Speaking of the housework, I think I could be a truly outstanding mother, fun and cool and amazing, if only my kids were the only thing I had to focus on. With someone else to do all the peripheral stuff that keeps a family running, my mothering would be exemplary and my kids would be the luckiest in the world.
Alas, housework and all that goes with it is a part of mothering and I do recognise that. I am not a lazy person, nor am I in any way a clean-freak (just ask my husband who does indeed have those tendencies!). I like for things to be tidy but not in an obsessive-compulsive way. I can only imagine the inner struggles that truly ordered people must suffer.
It just seems that there is endless work to be done around the house. If it doesn't involve feeding or dressing or entertaining the kids, it's the floors or the bathrooms or the stove top. If all that is miraculously done, there's the fridge, the windows, the microwave. And that's just the inside stuff! It is never-ending. There will never be a time where a mum with any amount of Mother-Guilt on board will be able to sit back and say to herself "there is nothing to be done." Never. What a depressing thought.
And you know, it's not the big things that get me. It's the mess that happens as we go about our day. It seems as I walk through the house tidying up, my kids follow, leaving a wake of new mess, so that when I turn around, there's already more there. The first meal after I've scrubbed the house makes the place look uncleaned already and I wonder why I bothered in the first place. It's physically exhausting and mentally draining. I had a tantrum at my husband one sleep-deprived day when he made noises about having a cleaner once a month (by the way, a great idea but NOT for him to suggest. Only OK for ME to suggest!). I tantied that it wasn't a cleaner I needed, it was a little fairy to run along behind the kids and pick up their toys, their crumbs, their spilt food under the highchair, their books. THAT would make my life easier, not someone coming in every so often just to clean the bathrooms! For whom, by the way, I would spend 'hours' tidying for in preparation!
There are so many expectations of a stay-at-home mum. One of the little things that unsettles me is this era of communication. As a 'housewife', I should always be available and I should answer the phone at all times and emails promptly. Because after all, I am not busy, I am just sitting at home. I should not talk to her kids while on the phone and I should ensure that they are quiet at all times during the phone call. I should not use the (heavenly) 'do not disturb' button on the phone and let incoming calls go to answering machine. I should also be ringing certain important people regularly.
Which brings me back to guilt. If I'm on the phone having a social chat, I feel guilty and disrespectful to my kids. If I don't ring certain people often enough, I feel guilty. If when I do ring them, I have to talk to my kids during the conversation (which of course is every time), I feel guilty. If I don't talk to/admonish my kids, they might hurt each other (then i would truly feel guilty!). I should probably make phone calls at night when the kids are in bed, but to be honest, by that time, I am so tired and so sick of being spoken to incessantly and answering question after question, and I so desperately need my own physical and mental space, that it all seems too hard. Far too hard.
Yes, it's HARD being a mum. I wouldn't change a thing about my life and I have everything (and more) that I always wanted, but IT IS HARD. Nothing can take away from that.
Why then, am I often resentful and confused about my days and my role as a mum and 'housewife'? The dialogue that travels through my head, which is shared and echoed in conversations with other mums, is not all rosy. It would not make anyone think that I do indeed feel very lucky in my life. I read widely, fiction and non-fiction, books, magazines, newspapers, internet articles. Occasionally I'll read something that strikes a chord and makes complete sense to me and seems to explain my inner dialogue. During the last week, I've had several of these revelations and this has enabled me to suddenly put into words the stuff that is going on in my head.
I think the main revelation is that no matter what the joys are, no matter what the rewards, PARENTHOOD IS HARD. The day-t0-day workings of a family are hard for parents, because it is relentless, tiring and often rewardless. It's hard to be a mum, no doubt it's hard to be a dad. It's hard to be a stay-at-home mum, no doubt it's hard to be a full-time working mum. It's hard if the children are 'easy' kids, it's no doubt harder if they are more challenging in their own ways. Parenthood is full-on and complex and (hopefully) the hardest thing we will ever do. Revelation number one seems so simple but it has taken me a while to admit that being a mum is hard, without qualifying it with "but it's worth it" or "but it's what I've always wanted". To put a full-stop after the 'hard' without adding any 'buts' is ok to do because IT'S HARD!
I heard about mother-guilt long before I was a mum. I knew in theory what people meant by it but you can't truly understand it till you're there, feeling it all the time. I realised last week that I feel guilty when I'm 'just' playing with my kids, because there's so much to be done around the house. And I feel guilty when I'm doing housework, because I should be playing with my kids. I feel guilty when I'm cooking, because that's always a time that the kids crave attention. I feel guilty when I'm not cooking because I want my kids to eat healthily and home-made. I feel guilty when I get angry at them and show my frustration. I feel guilty when I choose to ignore a behaviour because for that moment it's just easier rather than deal with it. I feel guilty when my husband walks in to find noise and chaos in the house because I'm too busy cooking tea or tidying up to entertain the kids. I feel guilty when my husband walks into find me 'just sitting and playing' with the kids when the house is bedlam. Get the picture?! The guilt I feel isn't over-riding, anxiety-producing guilt that is a mental health problem, it's just everday little niggles. And I know it is normal because my mum friends say much the same stuff. It's just Mother-Guilt.
And the worst thing is, it doesn't seem to be felt by men. It is not in their genetic make-up. My husband thought I was a little crazy when I explained all that and queried him about feeling guilty. He has no inkling of it at all. He can be blissfully unaware of what else is going on in the house as he sits at the computer surfing footy sites. It doesn't bother him if the kids are whinging or talking to him or the house is getting messier by the minute. He just does what he wants to do and tries to persuade me that he's teaching the kids independence by ignoring them. No guilt, not even the slightest question in his mind that it's not OK. And he is a great, involved, loving dad. But he is a male who was born without the Mother-Guilt gene.
Another revelation that I had while reading an article was that most mums in this generation, in their 'previous lives', have had careers, in which they were important with tasks to accomplish. The single thing that I struggle most with in my day-to-day life as a mum is the feeling that I cannot get anything finished in one attempt. Most of my tantrums are about "just wanting to finish what I am doing!" I feel I go through my days half-doing 1000 things, never stopping, getting to the end of the day feeling as though I have accomplished nothing. The house can still be a bomb-site, even though I feel as though I spent all day tidying up. The washing can still be unfinished, even though I started it at 6am. The dishwasher can still be full, even though I've started unpacking it 3 times. Things just get in the way and therefore I always feel unfinished and I find it an incredibly unsettling feeling.
Speaking of the housework, I think I could be a truly outstanding mother, fun and cool and amazing, if only my kids were the only thing I had to focus on. With someone else to do all the peripheral stuff that keeps a family running, my mothering would be exemplary and my kids would be the luckiest in the world.
Alas, housework and all that goes with it is a part of mothering and I do recognise that. I am not a lazy person, nor am I in any way a clean-freak (just ask my husband who does indeed have those tendencies!). I like for things to be tidy but not in an obsessive-compulsive way. I can only imagine the inner struggles that truly ordered people must suffer.
It just seems that there is endless work to be done around the house. If it doesn't involve feeding or dressing or entertaining the kids, it's the floors or the bathrooms or the stove top. If all that is miraculously done, there's the fridge, the windows, the microwave. And that's just the inside stuff! It is never-ending. There will never be a time where a mum with any amount of Mother-Guilt on board will be able to sit back and say to herself "there is nothing to be done." Never. What a depressing thought.
And you know, it's not the big things that get me. It's the mess that happens as we go about our day. It seems as I walk through the house tidying up, my kids follow, leaving a wake of new mess, so that when I turn around, there's already more there. The first meal after I've scrubbed the house makes the place look uncleaned already and I wonder why I bothered in the first place. It's physically exhausting and mentally draining. I had a tantrum at my husband one sleep-deprived day when he made noises about having a cleaner once a month (by the way, a great idea but NOT for him to suggest. Only OK for ME to suggest!). I tantied that it wasn't a cleaner I needed, it was a little fairy to run along behind the kids and pick up their toys, their crumbs, their spilt food under the highchair, their books. THAT would make my life easier, not someone coming in every so often just to clean the bathrooms! For whom, by the way, I would spend 'hours' tidying for in preparation!
There are so many expectations of a stay-at-home mum. One of the little things that unsettles me is this era of communication. As a 'housewife', I should always be available and I should answer the phone at all times and emails promptly. Because after all, I am not busy, I am just sitting at home. I should not talk to her kids while on the phone and I should ensure that they are quiet at all times during the phone call. I should not use the (heavenly) 'do not disturb' button on the phone and let incoming calls go to answering machine. I should also be ringing certain important people regularly.
Which brings me back to guilt. If I'm on the phone having a social chat, I feel guilty and disrespectful to my kids. If I don't ring certain people often enough, I feel guilty. If when I do ring them, I have to talk to my kids during the conversation (which of course is every time), I feel guilty. If I don't talk to/admonish my kids, they might hurt each other (then i would truly feel guilty!). I should probably make phone calls at night when the kids are in bed, but to be honest, by that time, I am so tired and so sick of being spoken to incessantly and answering question after question, and I so desperately need my own physical and mental space, that it all seems too hard. Far too hard.
Yes, it's HARD being a mum. I wouldn't change a thing about my life and I have everything (and more) that I always wanted, but IT IS HARD. Nothing can take away from that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
