Motherhood

There are about a million things that I should probably be doing right now, but I can't bring myself to do any of them.  And while I feel guilty wasting away precious naptime minutes in such a frivolous manner, I'm going to sit here and ever so selfishly type.  I know, I'm wild.

I envy the ease with which my Other Half showers on a regular basis, not limiting these showers to five minutes at a time.  When he has to pee, he simply escorts himself to the bathroom and does so, it's not a big production and no one follows him in.  The other day he noticed that his socks were looking worn, and he casually went to Target and replaced them.

Here I stand in my very last pair of jeans that are not filled with holes that expose my butt, crotch, and or thighs, and I've just noticed that this one pair of perfect jeans is no longer perfect: highlighter has been stained down the side of my right leg.  But I know that I'm not going to buy a new pair.

And why not? you might ask.  Well for one thing there's no way I'm going to get enough me time to even try on a pair.  Having not bought pants since I gave birth three years ago, I have no idea what size I am, which means that in order to have new pants I'd have to stay in one store long enough to try some on.  And all you do-gooders out there who are going to offer to watch Lou so I can do this, save your energy because I've found I'm completely unable to spend money on myself; I'll wander, lost, in a store for some time and invariably find myself in the kids section scouring the clearance rack.   Excited by my great deals, I'll start my triumphant drive home only realize that I still don't have pants, but drained of the strength to find some.

It's not just jeans, this is a condition that extends to all areas of my life, a belief that I should never be spending time, money, energy, on myself because, if I did, I would be shirking my motherly duties.  I think that this self-sacrifice is a self-imposed result of motherhood; specifically young, single motherhood.  With a kid and no wedding ring, I'm an easy target. 

In the world of mothers I already have two strikes against me: I'm young and I'm single (not so single anymore), and because of this I find myself in a constant, possibly imagined, battle to prove my competence in the area of mothering.  You have no idea how many times people offer me unsolicited advice; they see me, see my child, and automatically assume that I have no idea what I'm doing with her.  I have to be more of a mother than any of the other mothers at school, lest I be judged on my parenting.  No one thinks anything when the thirty-something married mother of another child is running a few minutes late at pick-up time.  But if I'm a few minutes late, I get a short talk on timeliness, and Lou gets some looks of sympathy from the teachers watching.  I can almost hear them, "that poor child, practically has to raise herself..."

Mothers who drop their kids off at school in their brand new mini-vans, wearing Uggs, toting iPhones, and weighed down by wedding rings are immediately welcomed into the mother club, something I call the Knitting Circle.  But since I wear the same worn out Ugg knock offs from two years ago, no ring, and my car is old, noisy, and rusty, it took months, and not just one or two, before any other mother introduced herself.  Instead they studied the interaction between myself and Lou, confident that they knew what our lives were like. 

There was one girl who was driven to school every day in style- one day a Range Rover, the next a Volvo, and then suddenly a Sequoia, but the driver looked like she was my age.  I ignored the evidence and allowed myself to get excited.  You have no idea the joy I felt at the possibility of another young mom.  Someone to talk to! 

But alas, she's only the Nanny.  And even she feels bad for poor Lou who must suffer through an inept mother.

I know the facts on young, single mothers, and it's true that they're more often neglectful in their parenting.  But I also know a lot of older, married mothers who are much less involved with their child than I am with mine. 

When we became mothers we entered a strange new world for all of us, and no matter our age or relationship status, we have the same challenges, fears, triumphs, and questions.  Our identity suddenly changed with the birth of our children; we entered the hospital as individuals and we left as mothers.  Motherhood is universal and it changes everything, but through it all we are still a person, and we need support, not judgement.

So the next time you see a young mother who's child looks healthy, happy, and like she's dressed herself, save your comments.  Mother and child are doing just fine.

As for me, I'm taking a cue from my Other Half and I'm going to remember that I'm still a person too and the quality of my parenting is not determined by anyone other than my daughter.  I won't be able to take leisurely showers until Lou's graduated from college and completely supporting herself (does that happen?).  I'm still going to forgo a nap to vacuum instead, but I'm trying to relax and live up to my own standard, not some imaginary standard of how I should be as a mom. 

I'm not Supermom, I'm just Mom, and that's just fine because none of those married mothers are Supermom either.