tifi

I think my mother forgets that I am not just her daughter. I am a mother, too. Every morning, I wake up and make breakfast. I supervise tooth brushing, and hair combing. I sign permission slips. I go to the playground, and to the library. In the afternoons, I help with homework, I make dinner, I rehash the school day. I ask nicely, and then I yell. I stay up late with sick kids. I clean throw-up and give medicine. I worry, I try not to worry. I am a mother, too. I research, I learn. I make the decisions I think are best for our family. I take them out, I show them things, I teach them. This is what mothers do.

Yet when I talk to my mother about things I feel are affecting my family and how I plan to address them, she discounts my opinion. Just because I do things differently, does not make what I do less right. It would be nice to have a mom who offers encouragement and advice rather than basically implying that I’m doing it wrong. It makes me feel 5 years old again, and then, I just want to cry. But instead, I get angry, I get huffy, I hang up the phone. I wonder if she knows how much it would mean to hear her say that I’m doing ok. That I have not screwed them up for life. That despite all my faults, I have pretty great kids, and that in part, it is because of me. Because I am a mother, too, and what could connect me more to my own than the sense of camaraderie that mothers share?

I tried a new recipe for dinner tonight.  After asking for seconds, ZB said, “This food is tasty. Let’s give Mommy a round of applause.” And then they all did. Have a fabulous weekend.

The other day Girlie and I were talking about adulthood. She told me that she didn’t want to work when she grew up. I asked her why and she said she wanted to be a SAHM like me. I think some SAHMs would’ve been flattered, even proud, but I was alarmed. I told her that I wanted her to do whatever would make her happy (within reason), but I’d rather she didn’t become a SAHM. Ah, good old conditional love. Of course, in the end, it won’t be my decision, but still. I told her I wanted her to continue to be a strong, independent person, and that I thought SAH was a bad idea. Yep, I said it. She asked me why, and this is basically what I told her (edited, of course, for a 5 y/o):

Being an at-home mom has been a struggle for me. On the one hand, I love being able to go to every school event if I want to, not having to worry about childcare/what will happen if one of the kids get sick, and everything else that comes along with that. In fact, my mild paranoia (which some close to me think has no basis in reality) is one of the main reasons I’ve stayed at home. To a certain degree, I can protect them, and know they are completely safe in my care. Sending them to school required a lot of letting go: yes, I’m a control freak, too, but I seem to have gotten over that.

On the other hand, the isolation, dis-empowerment, and financial struggles I have faced sometimes make it difficult for me to look around and say “Yes, this is worth it. I love being home with my kids.” In fact, I’m looking for work as we speak, and have been for a while. Of course, I want my daughter to do what’s best for her and her family (if she has one) but what I think is best is colored by my experience.

I somehow wonder how I ended up here, a young mother of three in small town hell when I come from a background of strong, creative, business minded women. My great-grandmother raised three children alone after their father was killed (or so the story goes). My grandmother was a teacher, a wife, a mother of 9 who still managed to knit, crochet, sew, and otherwise create things to sell, and give time to help the less fortunate (which she is still doing). My mother left her home country, and left her children behind for a year so she could establish a life for us in New York. A life filled with better opportunities, financial, cultural, and otherwise. I am nothing, I feel like nothing compared to these great women who have come before me, and I am ashamed, embarrassed that I don’t live up to the family name so to speak.

And so I don’t want that for my daughter. I want her to be the kind of woman, the kind of mom, that she can be proud of, that I can be proud of. Yes, we should live in a society where raising is a family is more valued, but I certainly don’t feel I am doing anything life changing. Generations of women have come before me and done the same thing. I have no illusion of specialness. I know I am still young and have plenty of time to change things, to become everything that I want, but I’m impatient. I wish I had done things differently, so that I could be where I want right now instead of a few years down the line.

Sure, this seems heavy for a five year old girl, and of course, I didn’t get this far into it, but I wish my mom had talked to me this way. I wish I had been more prepared for the realities of adulthood. When I was a kid, I looked so forward to becoming an adult. Now that I am, I wish I could go back!

This is probably the part that I’m supposed to say that I wouldn’t change anything because everything I’ve done has led me up to this very stage of my life, but I would be lying then.

I’m voting today, that’s your present. Kidding.

Ever have a day when things run so smoothly, you wonder what you did wrong? Yea, that happened today.

Feel free to lift one of these for your blog!
Hope you all have a lovely one. I plan to get up in the morning, order my minions around, and not lift a finger. Good times. I can’t wait to see the Motherhood Manifesto on Sunday night!