Mothering and Me

I can hardly think about anything else lately. I’ve been wringing my hands about it for what is going on week’s. Ethan. He is almost 4. And I can’t describe to you the conflict of emotions this new phase has brought with it – for both of us.

Ethan is a talker. No duh, right? But, no, seriously. He runs on nonstop. NONstop. I am not exaggerating. (Just ask the housemates!) Sometimes it is overwhelming. Most of the time it is overwhelming. You wake up to it and you hear it until he goes to bed 12 hours later. 12 hours of nonstop talking. No naps. No preschool. No nannies. I repeat – 12 hours of nonstop talking. Mostly questions you don’t have time or words to answer, or stories that have no point or ending. I try to converse as much as I can but, really, who can do that for 12 hours a day? That’s like pulling a double-shift at work… every day of the week, every week of the year. What if you had a dog that barked for 12 hours straight every single day? A friend who wanted to be on the phone with you for 12 hours a day? Despite all the love and patience in the world, you would be trying to figure out how to handle the situation, right?

And it isn’t just that. He’s been downright insubordinate. Now, I can hear half of you automatically connecting his behavior to the birth of his sister. But I’ve gone over and over this and I really believe that has little to do with it. At least between he and I (I do think he’s been jealous watching dada go gaga over baby sister). He wakes up every day saying how she looks so cute, she is so gorgeous, what can he do to help me so he can be a great big brother, so on. He gets cuddle time in bed with us together in the morning, something he didn’t even have with me BEFORE she arrived. I am trying to make the sibling thing go smoothly, giving him his own time with me to play and laugh while she naps, so on.

It occurred to me last night that maybe I am overdoing it. Every counselor and teacher I have ever had seems to have told me the same thing at one time or another: you try TOO hard.

Is that it? Am I trying to make up for something I can’t provide? Why the fit in the cafe about the muffin? Yesterday, it happened again, only with EACH AND EVERY TURN. We went to get a snack at the cafe on the way downtown for a family day which included a MAJOR treat for him: go see “Up” at the movie theatre. At the cafe, he hears us tell the lady that he’s going to split a bagel with dad. He freaks out. He yells and screams and goes “boneless” because he doesn’t want to split the bagel. Outside, I try to get him calm by understanding his feelings, and then explain that the shop didn’t have much else left and that we would be getting popcorn at the movies anyway. After the emotions passed, he was perfectly happy to eat half of dad’s bagel.

After the movie, it happened again. We had to go to Powell’s, (trying to find a used copy of the book “Unconditional Parenting” – how timely). When we got there, he saw some backpacks and I told him that was on his birthday wish list and he has to wait until then. He began to scream at me that he wants it TODAY and not for his birthday and “THAT’S MY CHOICE!” Talk about embarrassing. I get him to put it back and calm down. We go to read some kids books in the area with the little tables and all. After the books I’ve read him, we are on our way out and he rushes over to something else and says how he WANTS it RIGHT NOW and it’s HIS TREAT and HIS CHOICE! What in the world? How did MY KID manage to act SOOOO spoiled? He thinks everything he wants, he will get, and WHEN he wants it. That every place we go, he can pick out something sweet to eat or a toy to buy. Every time we check the mail, he gets annoying and mad that there isn’t a package from grandma in there for him. This is something I have NO idea how to handle, because I was very limited in my childhood on material possessions and I truly loved the few dolls I did have because they were so special. I feel like going to his room and getting rid of like 80% of his toys and then putting a BAN on any gift giving to him for like a year! Ahh!

But then, in the books I’m reading, it continues to talk about addressing the FEELINGS, not the BEHAVIOR. What is he truly needing? What is he feeling? What can I address in him that has NOTHING to do with toys or being greedy/selfish/demanding/spoiled? And most importantly, how can I (and Chris) avoid the game of punishment/reward and learn to truly communicate with him? How can I stop making up for my feelings of inadequacy as a mother – treating him because I had to work so much today, treating him to a pastry because we are too broke to pay for the bigger bills we are facing, treating him to a movie with a large popcorn or the park every day or what have you because I want to make sure he knows he’s still my son that I love even though we now have a sister in the family?

It’s so hard. So so hard. The worst part of yesterday was when my kid, who has been compliantly riding the bus system like a PRO for 2 years, decided to hold on to the bar at our stop and I had to drag him off the crowded lightrail before the doors closed on us, while he was again going “boneless” and bumping into people and I nearly fell over WITH Verity attached to me. That was the point I asked Chris to hold him — I couldn’t hold his hand, talk to him, or look at him. He was screaming at us “Don’t talk to me” and “Don’t touch me” half of the way home on the next lightrail. I was looking out the window in humiliation with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was helpless; I was out of ideas; I was tired, hungry and exhausted. Chris and I just put a hand on eachother’s shoulders for support and took a deep breath. Tried to chuckle. Tried to let him have his fit, knowing we had no clue what else we could do. We must have looked like quite the family right then! When he did calm down, he said he was sorry for being in such a bad mood and tried to convince us it wasn’t a sugar crash so that he could have more “treats” when we stopped at the grocery store. Nope, sorry kid. You need to go on a withdrawal!

Sometimes I really wish I didn’t work. Or that Chris didn’t work. To have one parent devoted to the home and children, to figuring this stuff out all day without being pulled in the direction of deadlines or clocking in at a job, is priceless. But in our situation, its impossible. I hear a lot of moms ask me about my situation, how lucky I am to “get” to work from home. But I’ve always been honest – it’s a tremendous blessing, but if I had the choice, I would be home with my kids and TRULY present with them. Working from home is, as I’ve always said, the “best of both worlds” AND “the worst of both worlds”. The grass is not greener in my pasture. It’s just a different landscape.

I picked up and began reading a book just for me yesterday. It’s been bringing up all kinds of thoughts, and turmoil too. It’s called “Mothering Without a Map; The Search for the Good Mother Within” by Kathryn Black. It’s about how “wounded daughters” or the “undermothered” can move beyond the patterns set for them and become mothers they long to be, who can raise children with security, love, health and peace. This is one of the things I’ve been dealing with a bit in counseling since Verity’s conception, and since I haven’t had a session in 2 months now, I figured a little book reading might do me some good. When I was in college I took a class on creative writing, and at the end we had to write about what writing goals we had. One of mine was to write a book about my journey to and through motherhood called “Memoirs of a Motherless Mother”. But I cringe when I think about that now. First of all, its all been said/done before. Especially coming out of the age of memoirs! And secondly, I can’t completely call myself “motherless”. But is there a woman in this world who I feel a kinship to — enough that the brush of their soft, strong arm skin when they hug me doesn’t feel as unfamiliar as an alien? No. Not one. They are all archetypes to me, even the ones with which I am the most intimate. They are not, in the end, my own.

As much as I fall short, and will fall short again, with my own child, its a consoling fact that at least they will have THAT. If I stay present in their lives, at least they will be able to hug me or feel my kisses with familiarity instead of discomfort, the way I feel when hugged by my father (the one who raised me). Like a part of them is “home” with me, despite the imperfections of our history together.

Oh, I’ve rambled long enough. But be warned, there could be more posts in the coming days and weeks from a person doing a bit of mother soul-searching