For many years, I have been a devoted stay-at-home mom. This is not to say that I have enjoyed every single moment of motherhood or that I totally agree with the idea that constantly giving and doing for others is the greatest feeling on Earth. Secretly, I wished for the day my kids would enter school and was genuinely happy when I realized I was close to the point in my life where I didn’t have to wipe anyone else’s butt! Some nights, I go to bed completely exhausted, so much so that I give little more than a kiss to the kids and ask that they come and tug me in, rather than the other way around.
During my stay-at-home mom years, I have often felt cynical toward those mothers who don’t seem to do their part. The ones who dump the kids off at Grandma’s and take week-long getaways with their husbands, solely to get away from their kids. I’ve also been frustrated with working moms who send their kids to school sick because they can’t get off work, and those who leave disciplining and child-rearing to daycare and other kids’ parents. Yet, as time has moved on, I’ve come to realize that there is something to be said for detaching yourself from your children.
Learning the Importance of Self-Care
I was an unlikely candidate to be a stay-at-home mom. In my twenties, I was a partier and had more fun and friends than most! Life was good. Accidentally, my husband and I became parents, and almost immediately, I changed. My life took on new meaning and purpose. Even throughout pregnancy, I began the entire denial of self that makes moms like me feel or think (at least temporarily) that they are doing the right thing. Twelve years in, I am exhausted and have realized that taking care of mom is important. But how? When? And how do you suddenly begin taking care of yourself when you’ve been the do-it-all mom and wife for so long?
If only I had paid attention while watching some of my friends, who seemed to have this way of easily becoming detached from their children. But instead, I scorned them secretly and outwardly. Maybe I was jealous! Looking back, I can see that it had more to do with the fact that I had a lousy, inconsiderate mother growing up, and I was terribly fearful of my kids feeling about me one day, like I do about her! So, my fear turned me into Super Mom, Super Wife, and the most selfless person on the face of the Earth. At least, that’s what I thought.
What happened to me happens to most people in due time. You become resentful, sad, quiet, and withdrawn. At some point, you become ill or realize that you are picking up every infection that used to never faze you. On the inside, you are frustrated, although you don’t really have the words to express it. But let’s be honest, the inability to finish a sentence, use the bathroom, talk on the phone, go to the store, write a letter, watch a TV program, or cook a meal (the list goes on) without being interrupted gets irritating after a while. And as the kids get older, you imagine they will leave you alone more or at least not be so needy—but they really only need you more.
Why is it that they seem to think that no matter what I’m doing, or in the middle of, it’s not as important as what they want? I mean, seriously, couldn’t they wait to tell me about Rachel from science class until I am done brushing my teeth? The reason they don’t seem to think any of this is important or difficult to endure for more than one decade is because, in my adamancy to do and be it all, I taught them that no one had to take care of mom—not even mom! So, like most things in life, it’s my fault. The trouble then becomes how to change it.
As a matter of survival, I had to change it. I realized I couldn’t coach softball with a two-year-old at my feet and couldn’t write with passion when someone was constantly trying to get me to match clothes or find underwear. So, the kids and I had a talk. First, I explained that I was tired—so much so that I wasn’t enjoying life much anymore. Then I explained that there were certain things they could handle on their own now, even the two-year-old. I started putting myself in “mommy time outs,” meaning that unless the house was on fire, no one could interrupt me. We decided that bowls of cereal and snacks after school didn’t have to be made with mom’s signature and could very well be gotten by the capable.
We went through the whole spiel together, and I explained quite succinctly that mom needed some time to think, to have peace and quiet, and that this was important to my health and my sanity.
Although I still don’t feel good about dumping the kids on others or handing over things that I feel are my responsibility, I have built up immunity to the guilty gestures and comments my kids impose on me. When I tell them to go away and busy themselves for a minute, they huff, stomp, and add their sarcastic “SOrreeeeeee, didn’t know I was bothering you” routine, and for a minute, I question myself. But once that minute is over, I finish what I’m doing and rarely make an issue of it.
What the children don’t realize—and what I didn’t realize until recently—is that I was caught up in teaching my kids that mom was not important and that taking care of mom, all the way around, was not a priority in our family. As my health, both emotional and physical, began to suffer from this secret policy I had initiated so many years ago, I realized quickly and harshly that things had to change. And they have! Now I am in the healing process myself!
The ironic thing is that, in this process, I have actually become a better mom and earned a lot of respect from my children. I am calmer and less easily frustrated on those days when everything seems to go wrong. I have more patience, and when I am with my children, I am really with them, rather than imagining some hot beach with sand between my toes and a margarita in my hand. I notice them more, and they, in turn, seem to notice me more. And this is a good thing.
I am hoping that as they become mothers one day, they will remember the changes in me that they have seen and remember to take care of themselves and to ensure that taking care of mom is always a priority in life.
