The Mother I am Right Now

I have been wondering where I fit in to this Mothering.com bloggesphere. I had been invited based on previously written pieces of work and now here I sit on the precipice of unknowns pondering what part of myself to share. I am sure of myself as a writer but have found myself paying much closer attention to the other posts here and to blogs in general. 

What is ‘My Voice’, I wonder? What ‘me’ do I want to share? I am a mother but do I qualify as enough (of an attachment – vegan – baby-wearing – earth-mother) to be here? No. No, you don’t my little voice says. Except for the baby-wearing part. I’d still sling my 6 and 8 year old if I could. I have always been secretly, deep-down inside struggling with the perfect mom complex.  Actually, I thought I had worked that out in therapy, and I am supposed to be okay with being a ‘good enough’ mother. I am self-realized and aware enough to understand that it’s just my insecurities scratching at the door and that we (us mothers of all sorts) have a place here at the virtual table.  But here it is trying to rear its ugly little head.

 

I often joke about being a slacker-mom and/or a proponent of  ”free-range parenting”, why is it that I would care what others think of me? Well, because I am writing for Mothering (Magazine – I still say in my head)! It’s been my parenting idol. My Mecca of Motherhood. But when I think about it, most of the Mothering articles, including blogs, over the years that have the most meaning to me were the ones that dealt with an “issue” (read struggle) I had dealt with. Those other mothers words resonated because it made me feel I wasn’t alone. Yes, parenting is this hard and I am not the only person who thinks so. 

When I ponder at my next post, I really want to gush about my friends that keep me going. I could not do this alone, and nor should we have to. I need the outlet, the shoulders to cry on, the escape of adult talk and love that says I’m okay, you’re okay.  So is it wrong that I would rather focus my musings on the wonderful weekend get-away that I just had with my girlfriends rather than the nights I spend pleading with my kids to get ready for bed?  I think not. Its escapism. DO I really hate my kids as much as it sounds like I do? No I just like to get away from them, often.

Okay, can you tell I am not working towards the motherhood of the year award?  I never knew that having kids was so much damn work! Babies are so freaking cute that it tricks us into propagating the human race. Really what you are getting into is a gremlin situation (the don’t-feed-them-after-midnight type)… Sure they are cute but watch out, they can turn on you. Sometimes I think, I wish I had known that I don’t really like kids before I had them.

The sad part is I think I am at an easy stage, age-wise. They don’t need constant supervision, they have figured out how to eat and go to the bathroom on their own, for the most part. They even surprise me sometimes by being civil and even loving from time to time. By that I mean I have two boys who are at each others’ throats 70% of the time.

They are good kids but often they reflect back at me the impatient, loud, angry person that I must be like a lot of the time. We are pretty good at working up a vicious cycle where they don’t listen, I get frustrated and start yelling, and someone ends up crying. (It could be me).

So do I feel like a failure as a mom? Sometimes. Not usually. Sure, there are things that I wished I did better and I am working on becoming a more patient parent (“We’re not doing that now” spoken in a sing-song voice is sort of a joke between me and my sister, who’s son was in Waldorf preschool. A joke because I wish I could be as patient as a Waldorf teacher and that my kids would listen the first time to such a quiet simple instruction). Someday I’ll figure it out. Probably not in this lifetime.

I am growing in leaps and bounds along with these two boys of mine.  I find inspiration where I can. Try to remember that I am doing the best I can with what I’ve got.  I keep a reminder of the important stuff taped to the inside of my pantry door.



I made this sign as a reminder to myself.

My son made this reminder for me.

 

 

About Wenonah Michallet

Married for 15 years and mother of two boys, age 8 and (almost) 7. Work my day job being “the Glue” at a freestanding birth center. “I support midwives” should be tattooed on my forehead.