Motherhood: A Horrible Carnival Ride

Posted on May 3, 2012 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

The absolute worst and hardest part of parenting is the emotional toll it takes. For me, it’s a constant roller coaster and I just want to get off; I don’t like roller coasters. I’m tired of all of the negative feelings – frustration, anger, embarrassment, self-pity, guilt, recrimination. These all center around L and I’m certain that not everyone has to go to such extremes.

If I had two kids like S, life would be good. I’d have it so easy. I’d deal with “normal” child issues like crankiness, hunger, frustration, boredom. But they’d all be low on the Richter scale. L is a huge earthquake. He is more than I bargained for. It feels unfair. Why am I the mom who constantly has to physically drag her 40 pound child up the stairs for a time-out? Why do I have to break a sweat just to get through the process of putting him to bed? I made the same choices as another mom who only has easy kids. Why did I get such a hard one? <——-This paragraph is all about self-pity.

Next comes guilt. So many people have real problems to deal with. Sick children. Children who can’t feed themselves, will never walk, will not live to see adulthood. Those parents would give anything to trade their problems with mine. I have a perfectly healthy little boy. <——I’m very good at guilt.

Next up, recrimination: I shouldn’t feel this way. L clearly is struggling with controlling his larger-than-life emotions coupled with his ridiculously high energy. My job is to help him not resent him. If I were a softer landing-place for him, he’d probably thrive. I am not a good enough mother for him.

The truth is, L is exactly the child I deserve. I was not an easy kid. I was outspoken and hated how little control I had over my life. I longed to be an adult. Anyone who has known me for any length of time knows that I ~~have~~ had a huge problem dealing with authority. I do did not like being told what to do, where to be, how to act. And, unfortunately, I felt it was perfectly within my rights to say so. This got me into more than my share of trouble.

I should be able to understand L and know what he needs because I went through such similar feelings as a kid, right? Somehow, it’s not working out that way. What thing did I need to hear from my parents or teachers to help me accept their authority and my place as a subordinate? I think the answer is probably “nothing.” Childhood was just something I had to wait out. I wouldn’t go back for anything. I do like being an adult and in control of my life. Now that I am the authority figure, I don’t think authority is so bad.

So we know where L gets his audacity and stubbornness from. But that energy? That’s not mine. That’s beyond what I can even tolerate. It’s like being on a racquetball court with balls bouncing all around everywhere. All I can do is duck, cover, and wait for it to be over while I’m pummeled all day. The energy is from T. But he didn’t have the defiance to go along with it. It’s the combo that’s a killer.

So I guess this means that I just need to duck and cover for another 20 years or so and then L will come into his own. I see right where this revelation is leading me. Straight back to self-pity as my roller coaster begins its slow ascent again.

Please let me off. I’m feeling a bit sick and dizzy.

I Think Therefore I Write

Posted on April 23, 2012 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

I’ve been in a bad mood lately. Essentially I’ve had 2 weeks of horrible PMS. It inspired this:

And this:

Then I felt bad. I am not a glass half empty kind of gal so I felt compelled to write this:

Then my life interrupted my introspection and I was reminded of what my days are really like:

and:

Hope you’ve enjoyed these as much as I enjoy writing them. You can find more of my Brites here: http://www.britely.com/allisonmotherhoodwtf

I Suck More Than You Do

Posted on February 3, 2012 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

I imagine that the relationships between other mothers and their young (toddler-preschooler) children remain pretty consistently good. Sure there are challenges along the way, but the actual relationship is warm, loving, supportive, not-strained. For some reason, my relationship with L has never been like this. We go through periods where we get along OK, but inevitably every few months we end up back to butting heads over everything.

This is all a surprise to me. I fully expected to need to work on my relationship with my husband, that my relationships with friends would go through ebbs and flows, that my relationships with my siblings and parents would change over time, that my relationships with my kids as they progressed through the teen years into adulthood would have challenges and need extra work. But I never imagined that my biggest struggle would be my relationship with a 4-year-old. What does this say about me?

This is the stuff that’s supposed to just come naturally, right? I’m the mom, therefore my feelings towards my son should involve things like overwhelming love, an overwhelming desire to support him, help him learn and grow, overwhelming wonderment, blah, blah, blah. He’s the child so his feelings towards me should involve things like love, thinking I’m kind of a superhero, thinking I’m the best thing since sliced bread, (despite his overwhelming desire to push boundaries,) etc. I don’t expect a nearly 5-year-old and his mom to never have disagreements, but I would expect the relationship to be straightforward. Ours is not. None of this comes naturally to me. This is all a reflection of my ineptitude. I feel like he is not a child I can parent properly. I am always irritated with him just being him. That can’t be how a mom is supposed to feel.

My “dislike” of all things L isn’t a one way street. He clearly dislikes all things mom too. He always has. He has always worshiped T and somewhat tolerated me. His first sentence was “No Mommy, Daddy!” He used to cry when it was me who came into his room to fetch him from his crib in the morning. And it was me every damn day. He’d throw his toys at me and tell me to go away that he wanted Daddy. Seriously. This started around 10 months of age. Not cool. This preference was supposed to be a phase, but it hasn’t changed one bit.

None of this is right. None of it is how it’s supposed to be. Since he’s the kid, clearly I’m the one doing something wrong. This isn’t a parenting issue that can be solved with trying a new discipline or parenting technique from a book, this is a basic thing that should be natural that I’ve got all wrong. And it’s highlighted daily by the fact that he has a sister who adores me (as she rightly should!) and who I properly adore right back. Even when she’s doing her 2-year-old gig, I “get” her in a way I’ve never gotten L.

I do not want my son to grow up with the constant message that he’s annoying me. But he is annoying me. This whole post makes me sounds like a monster. And I feel like a monster for thinking and feeling this stuff. I feel like it can’t be right. I must be missing some part of me that would make me a good mom for him. I’m hoping there are others out there feeling this! I hope there are others who went through this and now have a wonderful 20-something son to show for it. I just don’t want to ruin this child and I feel like I am.

Stranger in the House

Posted on January 18, 2012 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

When did I become a cliché? At what point was this whole motherhood script put into my brain? Do they pump out some subliminal messaging through PBS cartoons? Is it in the air in Target? Is there some secret coating on Goldfish packages that slowly changes a woman’s brain chemistry to go from typically saying sarcastic quips to things like, DO I NEED TO PULL THIS CAR OVER?!

Sometimes I take a step back and don’t recognize myself. Physically, I’m certainly not the same girl I once was. Weight issues aside, I’m dressed head to toe in clothes exclusively from Old Navy, Target, Marshalls, TJMaxx, and, if I’m lucky, Kohl’s. Long gone are my cute outfits from Banana Republic, Tahari, or anything resembling a boutique. My hair used to be styled, put together, cute, sort of healthy looking. Now I’m limp and bedraggled. Regular manis and pedis have given way to chewed nails, torn cuticles, and sad, ugly feet. Youthful glow replaced by adult onset acne. Cute pumps? Try clogs. My fitted purple vintage overcoat? That would be replaced by grey polar fleece. And that’s all just the superficial stuff. I’m unrecognizable to the core, People!

Today I got so fed up with my kids constantly complaining of boredom. I heard words come out of my mouth that some other mom* would say, not me. I told my kids if they were so bored they could occupy themselves by packing up all their toys to give to less fortunate children who would “only be too happy to have them.” I sent them away from me with the instruction that “I better not hear any fighting or the word ‘bored’ or else!”

*No doubt this “other mom” would be dressed in clogs, ill-fitting jeans and fleece, with wimpy hair somewhere between wavy and frizzy, and adult onset acne.

These aren’t natural things for me to say. Well, they are now. But what happened to put these words into my mouth? Is it really just par for the course that parents turn into entirely different people? At some point, when the kids are older and my life isn’t quite as consumed with every detail of their lives, will my old self re-emerge? Will I ever be the funny girl in the room again, or am I doomed to a lifetime of stereotypical motherly and wifely nagging and nothing else to say? (Oh, yeah, I nag too.)

Note from editor (me): I am fully aware that I am seeing my former self through rose-colored glasses. I picture myself in only my very favorite cute outfits, constantly funny, happy, and the life of the party. This is certainly not accurate or true to life, but caused by the same failure of memory which will one day make me feel nostalgia and longing for these days.

You Asked, I Answer

Posted on December 19, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

It’s been a hard week. L got sick in school on Tuesday morning and stayed sick for more days than ~~I could stand~~ he could stand. Recently I posted this status on my Facebook page:

Names and pictures obscured to protect the innocent.

Am I the only one who thinks it’s funny that a complaint about being stuck home with a sick kid prompts someone to wonder why the hell I chose to take care of kids in the first place? If I were a working mom, would I have been happy about L being sick again? Can’t imagine.

Anyway, the question was a good one. Why am I a stay at home mom? How in the world did I come to this?

When L was born I was finishing up my Master’s degree. I spent my days home with the baby and my evenings at school. I fully intended on working. That was the reason for the degree after all. It’s not like I just felt bad for Sally Mae and wanted to send them money every month for the rest of my natural life. Finishing my degree coincided with moving out-of-town. Incidentally, my husband also finished his graduate school and was now just starting out a career where he would likely be the primary bread-winner.

When we first moved my attention was on my husband’s fledgling career, and getting acclimated to the new area. I spent my time and energy meeting other moms, taking 16-month-old L to music classes, parks, gymnastics classes, libraries and other assorted enriching places only to drag him out of them midway for bad behavior.

After awhile, I felt ready to return to work. I brushed off my resume. I had a brand new degree and was ready to finally put it to work. This was back in 2009. Remember what happened in 2009 with the economy? Turns out, jobs were hard to come by. Also, I suddenly had a higher standard for what my potential job should be. Not only did I have a degree that I wanted to justify with my great new job, but I also had a toddler at home that I’d have to leave. Whatever job I got, had to be worth leaving him for.

Now this might sound strange considering how miserable I actually was when L was a toddler. He was impossible. Our days consisted of me trying some wonderful activity, him being him, and me ending up totally disappointed and often in tears. Optimistically, I felt like I just needed to try harder, be a better stay at home mom. I also thought that at any second L would drop his impossible toddler act and turn into the wonderful kid I knew was in there, and I didn’t want to miss it when it happened! (Still waiting…)

This is all a long way to say that I’m a stay at home mom because when I was finally ready to go back to work, the right job wasn’t available. Then S came along and I wanted to give her the same mommy-attention that L had for his baby years. (Unfortunately for S, L beat the trying-wonderful-activities energy right out of me before she came on the scene.) Over the years I’ve applied to a few choice jobs as they’ve come available. I’m lucky to be in a position to be choosy about it. When I do go back to work, I want the job to be more than a distraction from home, more than a paycheck. I want a job where I contribute to something I believe in, where I can learn and grow, where I can sink my teeth into something meaty, interesting and challenging. That’s a lot to ask for.

(Also? I’m still secretly hoping to to be a real writer. It’s something that I love and am good at. Just about the only thing I can think of that falls into both those camps. I have a few book ideas in various states of incompletion, and this blog which takes a lot of my time and pays no money whatsoever.)

It’s Like a Fairy Tale Over Here (Not in a Good Way)

Posted on December 16, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

Have you heard that “rule” that you’re supposed to say 4 times more positive things to your kids than negative? Do any of you manage that? I don’t. Not by a mile. Actually, I might with S, but with L? Not a chance. Last night I had a revelation: I am like a fairy tale evil stepmother to L. That sucks.

We all know that I love the kid. If I didn’t my life would be so much easier because I wouldn’t be racked with guilt, angst, and worry all the freaking time. But do I like him? Sometimes. I like that he’s curious, polite, empathetic and incredibley kind and sweet (when he wants to be). This is mostly how he is with other people. I dislike that he’s ornery, hyper, always looking for a fight, fresh etc. Those are things most parents dislike. But I go even further. I also dislike just about all of his interests. I find just about every single thing he likes mind-numbingly stupid. We have nothing in common.

Do I want to see him jump from the couch to the table to the chair to the floor and do a flip and run back to the couch in less than 4 seconds? No. Please don’t do any of those things.

Do I want to go for a bike ride in search of bad guys and shoot them with sticks and throw rocks and scream as loud as we can? No. I want to do none of that.

OK, so most of you probably are thinking that this is just normal 4-year-old boy stuff and of course I don’t want to do any of it because I’m a grown woman and little boys are stupid. (You were thinking that little boys are stupid, right?) I go even further. I say at least 4 times as many negative things to him than positive on a given day. How is that going to effect him? How can he possibly grow up into a confident, good man when he’s constantly being told that he’s too loud, too wiggly, too annoying, too obnoxious, too fresh, too wild, and just plain old too much all the time? The message he’s getting from me? It must be “GO AWAY I DON’T LIKE YOU.” Or maybe it’s “EVERYTHING YOU THINK AND DO IS WRONG AND ANNOYING.”

Then I realize that those are the messages I’m sending and I try to make up for it by telling him how kind he is. By telling him that I’m so proud that he’s such a great brother. I tell him he’s clever, that he’s cute, that he’s considerate, that he’s funny and that I love him. Then, in his excitement at getting positive attention, he takes a running leap and throws himself through the air and crashes into me. Undoubtedly his intention is to hug me, but instead of just hugging me like a normal person, he manages to knock me over, give me a bloody lip, hurt himself, and somehow knock over a full bowl of cereal and I’m right back to telling him that he’s too wild and not fit to be indoors.

As if all this messaging wasn’t bad enough, at the same time I’m cuddling with S. I’m smothering her in kisses. I’m accepting countless cups of imaginary tea, thanking her for cleaning up, exclaiming about what a big girl she’s becoming. She is receiving a loud and clear message that she’s mostly good, very cute, well-loved, clever, sweet and nearly perfect (if she’d just quit hitting everyone and throwing dramatic fits).

This is why I’m an evil stepmother. I’m leaving my kids with indelible impressions that she is good and he is bad. That she is welcome and he is barely tolerated.

Please tell me I’m not alone in this. Is my son doomed to a life in gangs or something because he’s growing up under the thumb of his evil stepmother?

The Worst Ride

Posted on August 23, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

This is not working. My home life feels like a war zone. Everything is a battle. I have tried so many ways to get through to L, and he just seems hell-bent on choosing the fight every time.

Lately I’ve tried explaining that he has a choice. When he raises his hand to hit me I calmly say, “Think about what you’re about to do. Think about what you want. Think about how you can get what you want. Think about what will happen if you hit me.” This sometimes does the trick. On a dime he will switch from a hateful, spitting-mad psychopath to a sweet, affectionate boy. (Does this mean he’s a crazy person? Who can turn such big emotions on and off like that?)

Sometimes reminding him to think about it doesn’t work. When he’s just geared up for a fight, there is nothing anyone can do but live through what comes next.

I’m sick of it.

My two children are not getting the same kind of attention, love, and affection from me. I try. I really, really, really try to give L all the positive reinforcement, all the encouragement, all the praise, love, affection that I can. But it’s impossible to do sometimes.

At least 2/3 of my interactions with him are battles.

And those that aren’t battles are just battles that haven’t started yet. I can’t play with him because when the play time ends it’s a melt down. I can’t tickle, wrestle with, act silly with, chase…. I don’t get to enjoy him the way I want. The way he would love. With him I have to restrain myself. The more playful I am, the more crazy he gets, the bigger the fallout in the end.

It seems so unfair. All day long I could play with S. I get to chase her to put on her PJs. I’ve never been able to do this with L. Even when he was her age, he took the games too far. He’d run away, but not in a playful way. In a serious, I’m-running-away-from-you-and-when-you-catch-me-I-will-hit-and-kick-and-forever-try-to-escape-and-if-I-can’t-I-will-completely-fall-apart kind of way. It sucks.

And every time I play with S I think of all the good times L and I have missed out on. All the good times we’ll forever miss out on because he makes everything so hard.

I have tried lavishing him with attention and play, but he’s insatiable. It doesn’t matter if it’s one minute, thirty minutes, or three days. When it ends he goes nuts. Often he goes nuts in the middle just by taking things too far. Tickling turns into aggression. Chase turns into wrecking the house.

This isn’t fair and I find myself constantly thinking the terrible thought “Why can’t I just have two like S?” I think L has so much awesomeness going for him, but for some reason it’s like he’s choosing to just act terribly. I’m tired of it. I feel like it’s not fair to the rest of us.

Clearly I’m not handling him right. But every different thing I’ve tried has failed in a different way.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I started writing this while T wrangled with L in his worst form. I felt beat up, defeated. I felt sorry for myself. Then I had to step away from the computer because after T came downstairs L begged, through hysterical tears from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, please come help me calm down. Please come up and calm me down.” He needed to sit on my lap and rock like a baby. He needed me to help him take some deep breaths, whisper nice things, sing him a song. And then that’s that. He’s calm, he’s happy. Obviously his emotions are just too big for him to deal with. He’s feeling out of control.

And now I feel like a shitty mom for wishing he wasn’t him but some S-like child instead. He’s just a little person trying to deal, and not figuring out how everyone else is doing it. And I’m right there beside him on his roller coaster. Going from hopeful to angry to defeated to self-pitying to sad to guilty and back to hopeful again. It’s an exhausting cycle.

Thanks and Sorry, Mom

Posted on May 7, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

It’s Mother’s Day – a day when we give and receive flowers and chocolate as a way of saying thanks for something that is impossible to properly say thanks for. Where to begin when thanking and appreciating your mother? Thanks for enduring all the discomforts of pregnancy, and sorry I kept kicking you in the bladder? Also, sorry I didn’t come out on time and you had to be pregnant for way too long. Oh, and thanks for giving birth. You did a bang-up job and I appreciate all that effort. And all those nights when I cried?Sorry about that.

Is it possible to begin there and still manage to properly thank a woman who still cares for me and helps me all the time and has for 35 years? Of course not. The only way to properly appreciate a mother is to become a mother yourself. Even then, it’s impossible really. Now I get the pregnancy, birth, late nights etc, but I still can’t properly appreciate her for the teen years, the 20′s, and as a grandmother. Trust me, my mom needs A LOT of appreciation for those teen years. Sorry about all that, Mom.

A couple of months ago my mother watched my two kids for 5 days, after gifting T and I enough airline miles to get us to Puerto Rico for a vacation. How freaking amazing is that? I can’t imagine surviving motherhood without her help. She has 5 grandchildren and has a real relationship with each one. Each child knows and loves Grandma, trusts Grandma completely as a caregiver. Lucky Grandma is close enough to these kids that she sees the real (read: bad) them that is usually reserved just for parents. How do you thank someone for that? For loving your kids?

The answer is you don’t. Such is the nature of motherhood. There is no possible way to thank, appreciate or repay my mother. So, all I can say is: Thanks, Mom. I know you spent so much time caring for and worrying about me. I kept you on your toes and certainly didn’t do anything to make your job at all easy. But I turned out OK. Thanks to you. Your unwavering love and support gave me the chance to go out and explore, because I knew I could (and would) always come back in the end. Now I have my own little hard-headed child and I can begin to see just how ~~annoying~~ challenging I was. Hopefully he’ll keep his authority-defiance to a minimum and I won’t have to suffer all the calls from principals and camp directors that you did.

You’re so freaking good at this mom-thing that you make the rest of us look bad. Happy Mother’s Day!

Mediocre Mommy

Posted on May 3, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

I will never be a high achieving stay at home mom. Part of me wants to be, but a bigger part of me is lazy. Once in awhile I do something that those cool moms do. My something from today was going for a jog on the local bike path with S in the stroller and L on his bike. I saw a bunch of other moms out there doing the same. The kind I (sort of) want to be like. They looked like they do this sort of thing all the time. I did not. I looked like someone you might want to administer first aid to.

Anyway, the reason I will never be like these other moms is that their jog with their 2 kids was one tiny piece in their successful day of action, while I feel like I’m done. I did something good for me, fun for the kids, healthy for everyone. I’m done. I win for the day, day over. But the day isn’t over. It’s not even 10:00. What now? What more do these small people expect from me? A lot.

L wanted to go straight to a playground. That was not an option because of the aforementioned looking like I needed first aid problem. So after sitting around for awhile near the parking lot and calling it a “snack picnic”, (so I could stop sweating,) we came home. I told the kids it was lunch time and they are obediently eating the lunch I put in front of them even though it is only 10:45. When they finish, I will lie again and tell them it’s nap time.

They’ll go into their respective rooms to sleep/bounce off the walls and I’ll be able to shower. My greedy right-now-self is psyched for the early nap. I am completely disregarding my poor 2-hours-from-now self who will have a longer than usual afternoon with 2 wakeful kids. Instead of being satiated by the morning’s family fun, they will be bottomless pits of craving for more of the good stuff.

So all of you moms who fill your days with family jogs, then family baking, then family puzzle making, family imaginative play, family chalk drawing, and other enriching activities, I envy you – but not quite enough to be you.

Babies Everywhere. My Ovaries are Talking to me. (Shut up, Ovaries!)

Posted on March 21, 2011 by Allison @ Motherhood, WTF?

Recently I was asked in a comment about how I made the decision to have a second baby. This is a seriously good question, especially considering the trouble I had with L over the last year. The simple answer is that having only one child was never really a consideration for me. So it wasn’t a question of if but a question of when.

Luckily we decided to try for #2 before L was 2 years old. Had I still not been pregnant by the time L morphed from sweet but challenging toddler to complete evil monster villain (somewhere around 2.5), I don’t know if I would have gone through with #2. The year from almost 3 to almost 4 was so so so hard. L was not easy to be around, to put it mildly, (way mildly – he was extremely, impossibly, unfathomably unpleasant,) but thankfully S was already here by then.

So now I have my sweet but challenging 4-year-old and my sweet 1.5-year-old and I’m done. Right? Totally. I’m completely 100% mostly almost sure of it. What more could I want? I had 2 healthy pregnancies, have two healthy kids, have one of each sex – why push my luck? Also, I can sort of see the end of the tunnel. Baby days are close(ish) to behind me. Soon I’ll have a family that can go places and do things and not be encumbered by naps, diapers, and other babyish stuff.

But babies are just so cute. Can’t argue with that logic.

Unlike normal people, I liked being pregnant and I liked the newborn phase. I love that warm little floppy helpless bundle, even if it means colic, no sleep, sore nipples and diaper blow-outs. I recognize that this feeling I have is not remotely coming from my rational brain. It’s coming from some evolutionary, biological, clock-ticking, animal place and I should know better. And I do. Mostly. Luckily, T totally knows better and has not even the slightest inclination towards having another baby.

So, back to the question of how one arrives at the decision to have or not to have another child? I don’t really have an answer for that. For having a second, we didn’t really ever consider the alternative so there was no decision process beyond timing. As far as having any more, I feel like the partner who is done has veto power over the partner who may want one more. So we’re done. Well, at least we’re shelving the topic. For now. No, really, we’re done. Almost certainly absolutely probably so.

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Motherhood, WTF?

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