Full-Color Friday: The Imperfect Mother Edition

To me, Mother’s Day is a bigger deal than my birthday. I don’t remember making a choice about being born, and as I get older, frankly, I’m not as  thrilled about celebrating that I’m one year closer to death. (Remember when I told you that optimism doesn’t come naturally to me? Like now.)

But I did make a choice about becoming a mother. Twice, in fact. I chose this life of dirty socks, underwear, piles of crap everywhere, meals that sit untouched as a young one complains about being hungry, surreptitiously helping to readjust athletic cups, rooms that never stay clean and sticky floors. I chose to be handed things out of a child’s mouth when he decides that swallowing is just something he doesn’t feel like doing.

I chose to never go to the bathroom unaccompanied, to listen to wailing about math homework that’s too hard or contains too many problems, to get kicked in the ribs when a young one decides to share our queen-size bed, to always share my fries or ice cream.

I chose worrying about all the things that are out of my control, terrors that could steal them away and keep them from reaching adulthood. Worrying that they’d be bullied. Worrying that they would become the bully.

Mothering is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. There are days when it’s harder than others. A friend of mine and I were talking this morning about how some days, you just have to say to yourself, “OK, today, I wasn’t the mother I want to be. Maybe tomorrow.”

I am not the mother I wanted to be. I think I expected all my selfishness would just leave me and I’d happily put everything aside for my child. I thought that’s what happened when you had a baby.

Boy, was I wrong. I look at my childless friends and the trips they’re taking, or the time they have to take classes, pursue interests, and I envy them. I wouldn’t trade my kids for that, no, but man, there are so many times I wish I could have both.

I am far less patient that I’d like. Sometimes I’m downright mean. Sometimes I just want them to leave me alone. But I chose this life, and frankly, I want some recognition for everything I’ve given up. The selfish part, it turns out, didn’t go away.

So, Mother’s Day is really important to me, and I deserve it. And so do all the other mothers out there who have carved huge pieces out of their hearts and lives trying to bring good, happy people into the world.  (And dads too – but Father’s Day is in June). I deserve it for all the times I didn’t scream. For the times I gave them birthday parties instead of buying myself a new dress. For the 100,000th explanation of how you borrow and regroup in double-digit subtraction. For the 64th drawing of Thomas the Train Engine that day. For the hours I spent listening to how you built your Minecraft world when, honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just glad you still like to talk to me.

We are not perfect mothers, any of us. And sometimes, this mothering gig is really freakin’ hard. Today’s links celebrate the Imperfect Mother.

A few years ago, Alice at Finslippy had a tough day with her son and begged for bad parents stories to make her feel better. She got a ton, and they were awesome. Ridiculously awesome. I have them bookmarked.

Janelle Hanchett at Brain, Child wrote a thought-provoking piece about her failures as a mother. I love in her bio that she writes, “I didn’t write the story of my alcoholism for a long time, not because I was ashamed, but because I didn’t feel like I should be congratulated for taking on responsibilities that were always mine.”

A friend of mine from high school, Laurie Kilmartin, gathered some other crappy moms and wrote Sh*tty Mom: The Parenting Guide for the Rest of Us. It’s funny and irreverent, and takes on the sanctimonious parenting advice we all hear.

Speaking of sanctimonious, have you heard of the term Sanctimommy? Hell, I’ve been Sanctimommy sometimes. We all have, because this parenting thing is anxiety-provoking and we want validation that we’re doing the right thing. So we judge other parents who make different choices. Sometimes it’s good to laugh at it, though, so you could follow Sanctimommy on Facebook for some perspective.

Celebrate your Imperfect Mom and/or celebrate your imperfection as a mother this Sunday.  We all deserve it.