Since Graham's accident, I have largely felt lost in motherhood. I'm not entirely sure I ever completely trusted my abilities to be a mom. I questioned my approaches. I tempered my expectations. I allowed others dictate how I raised them by involving them in a great number of decisions. I doubted myself even before the great fall in the bucket. After his accident, my confidence in that area plummeted to greater depths.
Years of trauma therapy helped me to regain my confidence. I had to imagine Jesus telling me in the moment when my baby was dead that I was loved and I was a great mother. I didn't speak it over myself in that moment...nor did anyone else. So Jesus had to do it after the fact. He healed my broken heart and I became an even stronger mother than previous to the accident.
But it is still my most insecure area. I soar with confidence and drive the week they are with their dad. I feel like I have a handle on my life and I'm actually doing a good job of juggling everything alone. Even though I miss them almost unbearably at times. And then...
Enter kids....The Monday I have them back is glorious. I hug them tightly and can't stop staring at them. I don't want to miss a thing.
And then they misbehave like kids do or make a mess like kids do and the beautiful reunion is shattered. Insert chuckle.
I'm forced to decide on Monday whether I will react like a lunatic or like a pleasant Mary Poppins. The lunatic usually wins...but there are cameos of Mary sprinkled throughout.
By Tuesday, Mary is on stage more than the lunatic. I have regained my footing as a mom and my brain remembers how to respond to kid-related stress.
But I'm still a bit raw the week I have them...worry and stress and insecurities are more prevalent than when I don't have them. But the insecurities and worry over my kids aren't restricted to just the weeks I have them...it's an ever present companion in my life.
A guy commented the other day that his biggest pet peeve about parents is when they're on their phone while their kids play at the park. I could see his point. But I had "guilty" written all over my body and the emoji of the girl with her hand raised popped into my brain. I'm that parent.
I feel relieved when we go to a park and my kids are playing with other kids and they're contained and happily releasing inside energy that does no favors for my white couch. I feel like I get a tiny break from responsibility. I feel like my life just got made and I can breathe with untethered breath. I feel no need to play with them. I don't always get on my phone. In fact, I mostly leave it in my pocket. But I bring a book to read. Or I just sit and watch them quietly. Whatever I choose to do in that moment is a gift because my kids do not need me...for one small glimpse of our day.
I don't believe that men feel the same heaviness that mothers do. I think they compartmentalize so well that they are able to be present in the moment without the weight of parenting squarely on their shoulders. I believe they are able to function well at work 100%. I believe they do a better job of divorcing themselves from their parenting responsibilities and the burdens that come with it than women do.
Women incessantly worry. We can be in the biggest work meeting of our life, conducting the damn meeting, kicking serious butt, and our minds are still obsessing over what to make for dinner for our kids. We can be on a date and laughing ... and the parent-teacher conference we just had is playing in the background. We can be getting a massage, pedicure, manicure, exercising, eating, sleeping, showering, shopping, running errands, having drinks with friends ... and our children are with us...asking us to get them milk while we take a stab at relaxation. Insert another chuckle because moms know relaxation is a mythical creature. Like a freakin' unicorn.
My single girlfriend who is a mother and a very successful woman told me that she hated to admit it, but she would hire a man any day over a woman with kids.
We both sighed heavily at this revelation.
Good or bad, we are first and foremost mothers. I've said it before and here it is again...dating without the presence of my children is a feeble attempt to get to know me. Because they ARE me. They are my motivation behind everything I do. They fill my brain with happiness and worry simultaneously. I've dated a man on and off for over a year and he has not met my children. Our relationship will never progress because who I really am has been cut off from him. He gets only a piece of me...and that piece is sub-par to the motherhood piece. The men that have met my kids are the ones I am closest to. They understand my role as a mom. They know what they are competing against...and that they will likely lose because neither they nor I care enough to overcome this great obstacle of blending our lives. Not many have the stamina to date a mother. And mothers don't have patience for someone who doesn't care about their main priority. (Having said that, you have to stick around a while to meet my kids ... or just be my friend and abandon dating. Male friends are allowed. Boyfriends have to serve their time.)
I am appalled at the number of men on dating apps that simply leave out the fact that they have kids. A microscopic part of me gets it...it's unnatural to date as a parent. So sometimes it's easier to avoid the anarchy of parenting that is you when dating. But I do believe that men are not first and foremost dads...as mothers are first and foremost mothers. Who men are as parents are largely driven by their motivation behind their role...their role as providers. Mothers are driven by their role...we are mothers. It is our identity, largely.
Whether we are naturally this way or society has encouraged this in us is a mystery. But I tend to believe that God in His infinite wisdom gave women the innate consummation to live and breathe with her children. This is why we are better at multi-tasking, I suppose. (We have to be multi-taskers if we want to clean up vomit and do it while looking good.)
And why we are not the first choice as employees.
So though it may take me a while to adjust to immediate kid-related stress as Mary Poppins and get to add my name to the "nice" list, or the lunatic who yells on the "naughty" side...sigh..., after getting my kids back, I never have to settle into my role as a mom. I am MOMMA. Whether they are asleep in their beds at my house or not.
So if I need peace for ten minutes while my kids happily play on the playground, you're damn skippy I'm jumping on that.
And will worry incessantly about whether they will hurt themselves as I pretend to read a book.
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