I used to spend my days concentrating on deadlines, getting all A’s, making sure I’d read enough to “stand out” in my grad school discussions…
After 19 years of school, I had most of it down! I’ve only received two B’s since my sophomore year of college. A-‘s, however….I’m the queen of those. “Almost Excellent”, is what I call them 🙂
And then, I became a mother. I was given this incredible gift, one that could never come close to rivaling the joy I felt over a well-written paper, a thought-provoking discussion.
And instead of feeling competent and prepared, I am continually helpless and drowning!
I think it’d be an interesting psychological study, following first-time moms who used to be successful business women or students. Watching those members of our society who are used to having it “together” grapple with the epitome of unpredictable. Studying those who used to spend all day understanding the complexities of Plato and Burke, and now can’t even decipher the cries of an infant.
One of the ways that I think moms process the up and coming challenges of raising a child is through research. I can’t tell you how many HOURS and HOURS of research I’ve spent/wasted on baby stuff. By the time G came, I could’ve told you every single brand of cloth diapers on the market, and I hadn’t even used one yet! I knew the ins and outs of every stroller, the pros and cons of carriers vs. slings, which carseat was best and most cost-effective. While some of this is good, I went overboard (still do!). Again, moderation in all things, even if they are good.
As hard as I could be on myself for this, in all fairness, what else is a first-time mom to do? Moms nest for a reason! There’s this huge enigma, this looming “X-factor” that’s going to turn her life upside down. Just sitting still is like that awful moment at the top of a hill in a roller coaster, where you know that any second, your stomach is going to be misplaced from your middle. Inevitably, this is where your fellow passengers start screaming, raising their hands in the air. In other words, those of us who are used to control can’t stand it. “I have to do something!” I continually thought while I was pregnant.
Then, there are those moms that have never been around babies. Researching baby stuff, delighting in putting it together, is her only way of visualizing what is about to happen. It’s not any stroller– it’s her baby’s stroller. Where her baby’s head is going to rest. Baby. Baby’s head. Oh, that’s right! Holy crap! I’m gonna have a baby, and it’s gonna be sitting in that thing!
And then, there’s my “stereotype” explanation for it. Girls have been playing house since the dawn of time. Watching Anna and Topher, two of my friends’ children who are within a few months of each other, grow up has confirmed this. Without any encouragement from Courtney and Michael, Topher is just naturally drawn to cars and airplanes. The quickest and surest way to get him to laugh is to make things crash into each other. Explosions are awesome. Anna? She’s been pushing around a little baby stroller since day 1, even though she plays with boys all the time. There are exceptions (I never liked barbies and dolls– just GI Joes!), but girls have the nurturing thing DOWN. It’s programmed, whether it be plants, pets or babies.
Researching and getting excited about baby gear is not too different than little Anna playing with her dolls. Both of us are “playing mom”.
But then the Baby arrives. And it’s Showtime. No more “playing” mom– it’s 4am, baby’s crying, and it’s time to “be” mom.
When does the “playing” stop?
Because there are days when I would still rather “play” than “be”. Because when I picture it in my head, it all goes so smoothly. Baby wakes up, nurses, plays, goes back down for a nap. Mom gets to water the plants, drink some coffee, check her email, write the grocery list.
Any mom who just read that went, “Yeah RIGHT.”
Because the moment I try and rely on my plans for the day, I find out just how very different “playing mom” and “being mom” really are.
And I start to feel like I’m drowning, because I can’t live up to any of my own expectations.
Let me tell you about a conversation I had with a piano student yesterday. He’s been on the same song for a month now, not because it’s too hard (he’s mastered the songs before and after it brilliantly!), but because he thinks it’s too hard, and refuses to practice it. Instead of going head to head with him, laying down the ultimatum (which I know will just incite his stubborn tendencies anyways!), I came at it from an angle he didn’t expect.
” ‘M’,” I said. “You don’t need to be afraid of asking for help.”
“What?” he guffawed at me. “I’m not afraid of anything!”
“No, you’re afraid that if you ask for my help then it means you aren’t a good piano player.” I then proceeded to tell him how only the best students listen to their teachers. The rest turn up their noses and never get anywhere.
And you know what? For the rest of the lesson, he listened to me! All he really needed was for someone to come along and address the insecurity, NOT the stubborn attitude resulting.
It wasn’t until this morning that I realized the same thing applied to me! Just because I need help doesn’t make me a bad mom. I don’t say this to “give myself a break”, I say it because just when we think we are prepared is when we couldn’t be more wrong. Asking for help doesn’t make us weak, it means we get to build other relationships as well. It allows others the opportunity to minister to us. It builds community.
Being a mom isn’t about knowing the best thing for G in all situations. Sure, I can’t help myself– I’ve studied this kid so often, I’ve got some of his behavior down to a science. And then, he does something that completely stumps me and turns everything upside down.
Being a mom is about Love. Not the kind that exists in our heads. The kind that results in our hands. Our tears. Our bleary eyes when we’ve been up all night, loving the unlovable.
Lord, keep me strong, day in and out, not so that I can keep the perfect house, make the perfect list, find the perfect bottle, but so that I can LOVE, unconditionally.