Last year when planning my daughter's 5th birthday, my mother reminded me that it was about that time in my childhood, when she checked out mentally and retired from motherhood. I like to refer to it as "when the shit got real." For my daughter and I, as soon as VPK and Kindergarten hit, it's a whole new realm of mothering and for some, or maybe just me, it was uncomfortable at first, even unfriendly.
My mom mentally left the idea of being a mom when I was 5 and physically left when I was about 12. The timeline can get fuzzy unless you have my mom and I start reminiscing and then it's a fight for who remembers what better, and the "right way."
Through the worst few years of my personal life, I successfully "checked out" mentally for just under 6 months. And I was still her mom, I just was a super selfish one. When I couldn't keep up with life and wasn't even getting what I thought the results should be out of my "selfish phase," I had a heart to heart with myself and quit being so ridiculous and started to deal and then heal. Okay the real story also involves being "scared straight" to a degree, but again, I have a book to write people. I have to keep some mystery.
For whatever reason, at a young age I realized rather quickly that my mom was not like other moms. In fact I used to call her Cindy and not mom because "Everyone else calls her Cindy, why wouldn't I?," I said. I used to say about the moms that cooked, sewed and did hair and nails they were "Like, real moms."
My mom never cooked. My mom bought clothes, she didn't sew them, but my dad did. My mom never let me wear make-up. She took me to get fancy hair cuts and told me she'd kill me if I ever colored or permed my hair. I never had my nails done. She hated nail polish and my dad hated that it stained everything.
I don't remember my mom taking me to do anything with her, just driving me to and from appointments and play dates, and buying me stuff. This isn't to say she never spent time with me, but nothing sticks out as what my daughter would call "quality time"
Recently I discovered that living with my mom had some weird affects on me. She spent a year with us after the car accident and I reverted to the same behavior I used the year of high school I lived with her. It was rough on us both, but, we made it through relatively unscathed.
If you ask her now, she says I took advantage of her living with us. She's not wrong, there was a degree of that, but she also will never know the full story of everything else going on with my personal and family life, even as we were under the same roof. And in my hour of need, when I put myself out there saying, "Mom, I might really need your help," she said no.
Generally, I admit I feel like a "bad mom," whether it's working too much, or not enough, yelling too much, not engaging enough or just not being involved more. There are a lot of expectations for moms, way more than when my mom was raising me I feel. And the fact that I'm only 6 years in and have failed at some things a time or two, ugh, I hate that so much and I've worked on getting my ass in gear.
Some of the people closest to me remind me that I'm a good mom, which usually makes me ugly cry, but "Momming ain't easy." Some days are much better than others. Last night my daughter and I had some serious quality time, and the past two weeks for us have been so much better in general, that I feel like I'm turning a corner and working on being that "good mom" that others seem to see in there.
I've decided that this newfound mothering mentality comes from my mindfulness stuff. Or should I say that mindfulness just spans every aspect of my mentality now, including motherhood. I had my "ah-ha moment" last night.
I finally got my kid to understand the power of Netflix and Chill, in the complete and literate sense that sometimes it's okay to binge-watch My Little Pony or hours of Disney movies after a long week of school, aftercare, girl scouts, horseback riding lessons and play dates. You're allowed to be a kid. So yesterday we had horseback riding and then she had a play date and then I said, okay...we're going to go pick out a movie for you to watch on Red Box, then we'll do nails and face masks in between and have popcorn and treats but we just get to chill!
She was super on board and loved every minute:
It was a simple thing for a Saturday when my husband was working and we were just having a girls night, but it felt so awesome. And my mom never did that kind of stuff with me.
I thought I had always been mindful about being a mom, but I realized with as bad as things have been, I inadvertently end up snapping at her, being cranky and unfair or just only being half there. Last night I was all in and I noticed the difference in how it radiated through. She's listened better today. She's allowed me to have my space but asked for help when she needed it and asked me to be around for when she wanted me around.
Being a mother is exhausting, rewarding, defeating, and amazing. You can get everything and nothing out of it all at the same time. It's thankless but oddly gratifying. It can tear you apart and heal your whole world all within the span of 10 minutes. It's the best rollercoaster you'll ever board.
I think that we all do our best when we're living under our version of better circumstances, but we're only human. Sometimes we break down and just can't handle this crazy thing called life. That's okay. I've been broken and beaten and put myself back together, or at least tried. My fundamental truth in it all is I have this little person to raise, no matter what. It doesn't matter what happens at work, with my husband, with my bills and finances, or with friends, I am her mother and she's my daughter. We are ride or die, Luna and I. I didn't mean for that rhyme or sound ridiculous but it is the truth.
As I've taken better care of myself these past few weeks, I've cared for her infinitely better. We've been kinder and more patient. We've been sweeter and less sassy with each other. We've made better agreements and had more meaningful conversations and moments as mother and daughter.
This mindfulness stuff is so hard, but I've found it's also totally worth it. As bad as it may sound, I won't be my mom. I had a taste of the "check out" plan and I don't want to order that from the menu ever again. I like being the one here when the fever breaks and nightmares happen. I like being the one she tells her secrets to and then gets mad at for annoying her. I like being the person she snuggles up on. Before long she won't want me around as much anyway. When I was 15, I was mother free, and when we tried to live together it was worse than a bad Lifetime movie.
My mom missed all the mom moments that I won't. The first bra, the first kiss, the first homecoming, prom, the shopping for the dresses and shoes, the boyfriends, the dates and everything. I had aunts and moms of friends and my dad. I was really good at making work what I had available but missed having any kind of mom when I needed it most. I won't give Luna the chance to miss me, even if it means smothering her, which she will hate and I will gladly do so.
I'm a work in progress, but a mindful mother I will continue to grow into. I may not be able to volunteer for the school events and be cookie chair, but I'll be there for the first period, the sex talk, the girl fights, the boy fights, the dating, the outfits, the hair and especially the face masks, nail painting and sewing. I don't cook either but I can make a mean sandwich and salad, and I'm great with BOGO shopping. She'll do okay.
And with all this mindful mothering, I can be one more cliche of, "Be the person you needed when you were a kid," for her; whether she likes it or not.
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