I have been thinking lately about how my thoughts and reactions about motherhood differ so greatly from when I was a first time mom. Some things I see as positives. I quit worrying about germs, I learned to loosen up (routine is necessary, but kids need to be able to adapt to change without falling apart) I conquered my fear of dirt and mess, and I realized my kids' had their very own intriguing personalities that didn't need to mirror the majority to be OK.
There is however a few things that I have gotten lazy with after having multiple children. I'm fine with it, they will survive and so will I. All the laziness does point to something positive, self love. I love myself more than when I started. It makes these things that I thought mattered so much, not matter much at all.
Bedtime: When I was a mother to one, we had a sweet little bedtime routine. It went something like, bath time, pajamas and a bed time story, an exchange of loving words, and lights out. Same time every night. It was just my son and I. I had all of my attention to give and the rest of the evening for whatever it is I wanted to do with my time.
These days, depending on what day it is, we (husband and I) have either 3 or 5 children. Bedtime usually goes a little something like this: "Bed time guys." We exchange hugs, say our promise of "We'll tuck you in when we come up" (this may or may not happen depending on if they are sleeping or not, or if we are just too exhausted by then to follow through) and off they go upstairs to their rooms. For about the next 45 minutes various children come halfway down the stairs to make up some bullshit story about how they didn't eat enough, or they are SO thirsty they might die, or another child is throwing things at them, or maybe that the youngest has smuggled a granola bar into bed so can't they just have one too? Then it may be scary up there, or too hot or too cold. One gets a headache, the other won't stop talking, and the youngest becomes a terrorist if both the older boys are in the room with him to establish his alpha position as the youngest. He usually has to be moved to our bed. At that point he comes down more than once to tell us that it is scary to be alone and he is giving us two minutes to come up. We ignore his threats and remind him that we will tuck him in when we come up.
I know, the sweet little bedtime routine sounds so much less annoying and ultimately makes bedtime easier, but we are tired. They are old enough to slip into bed on their own. Although bedtime seems to get a little stressful, we find joy in not having to go upstairs. That's just how it is now. A routine for 3-5 children? No thank you. I can hardly stay up later than the kids as it is, let me just sit on the couch for a few more minutes.
Kids in the Bed: I use to worry that I needed to kick them out of my bed by a certain age. The first one we kicked out at age 2, the second one at age 3, and the baby is 4 and a half and primarily sleeps with us.
I just don't give a shit with the younger one. We have tried several times to get him out of our bed and into his own. I know exactly how to do it. It works for a while, but we usually cave at some point because we actually miss cuddling with him. He doesn't get in my way so I don't care. He's only little for a little while. To the older ones, sorry, you had your time, if I can't stretch my legs at night I won't be very nice in the morning and no one wants that.
Buying Toys: When I had one child, I bought him new toys. I would see cool stuff at Target and think about how much he would just love to have it. I would buy him new toys whenever I wanted. His grandparents bought him new toys whenever they wanted. His Auntie would buy him new toys whenever she wanted. The kid had some cool shit!
I can't remember the last time I bought a new toy that wasn't a gift for some sort of holiday or birthday. I think it happened once or twice in the last 5 years. Guess what? My kids are happy. They have stuff to call their own. Honestly, I don't want all that crap in the house. I cannot begin to explain the many types of toy organization I have tried over the years. It works beautifully when I am the one organizing it, but once they get their hands on the system, it is over. One perfectly intentional toy bin will end up holding a few toys, some dirty clothes, a few clean clothes, a tooth brush, a half eaten granola bar, something from another room, a pair of my underwear, and who knows what else. I end up feeling resentful of my time and effort put into the organization only to have it literally trashed. My plan for the near future is to build each boy a shelf for the their room. Whatever they want to keep has to fit on the shelf. The little guy can keep his basket in the hall closet, he actually still plays with toys, but for the most part he does whatever the big kids do so he doesn't need much.
Language: I know that many of you will not agree with me here, and that is fine. This is just my personal take on the subject. It's not that I didn't used to watch my language, but I had never dropped an F-bomb in front of my kid, and assumed I never would.
As we roll five kids deep, things have changed. I curb my language where I see fit, but I speak in whatever way I need to express myself. They understand that they are not allowed to use these particular words. They youngest tried on the word "BS" for a time when he was younger, but we moved past it. If I need to drop an F-bomb, I allow myself to do so. I am an adult, which gives me certain privileges that they don't have yet. Kind of like drinking wine. I drink wine and they know that they cannot. It is simple, and they get it. My children may hear me swear, but they do not see me do anything that would make me look like a shitty person and that is what matters to me. They see me feel real feelings, they see me love them, they see me grow as a mother and an individual, they see me love their Dad, and they see me be the best version of myself I can be.
Being my World: This is a tricky one. I think that somewhere in the middle of the beginning of motherhood and my current resting place, I was stuck. I was stuck where I needed to be, however, to grow and enter a knew corridor of motherhood.
There was a time when practically everything I did was for or about my children. They were my world. I think we say that quite a bit, and we mean it, but when you really break that down it isn't always the most healthy way of thinking. We all love our babies, we all want to raise them the best we can. We all want our kids to have a beautiful childhood and a special relationship with us. I know that as a stay-at-home-mom you feel like every waking moment you are on duty, which you pretty much are. On the other hand, as a working parent, you are meeting the demands of your job all day to come home and meet the demands of your children's needs. There is no part time parent, you are a parent all day either way. Parenthood is a huge responsibility and we all want to get it right.
There came a time though that I quit worrying about getting it right. I did what I felt was right for each child. I quit wondering if I should be doing what some other people were doing. Should I be giving more of my time to the school? Should I feel obligated to volunteer on the PTO just because I am home? Should I be making more one on one time with each child just because I am gone at work all day?
I also thought about how great it would be for them to look back on their childhood and be able to have memories of me as a person, not just as their mother. Things I liked to do for me, things that made me happy, things that I couldn't stand, things they loved about me and things that bugged them. I want my kids to see that I am important to myself. If you don't take care of you, you really can't give as much as you think you are giving to them. You become tired. We are all tired because this gig is a lot of work but I'm talking about tired from the inside. You're tired because you have made your life so full of them that you leave no life for you. It is not selfish or something to feel guilty about, it is necessary to show your kids how to take care of themselves as adults. You need to love yourself and put yourself first. Self love is the foundation for joy. THAT is something I want for my children.
Of course I still handle the needs of my children. I'm just saying it's little things. I don't feel obligated to go to the park because they want to if I really just feel like I need an afternoon coffee and some time to write. Or maybe I need a down day with tea, knitting, and a good movie. I spend less time now entertaining them and more time letting them entertain themselves so that I can take care of me. I am not taking from them, I am giving to them by giving to myself. Childhood is magical without magical efforts from parents. It is magical because you are a child, full of imagination, hopes, and dreams.
They say that professors are referring to the current college generation as the "tea cups" due to how fragile they are. Parenting has turned into clearing all paths for our kids so that nothing is in their way, nothing will upset them, and accomplishments will be easier to obtain. They get out into the real world and can't handle hurdles, curve balls, or disappointment. Stress is foreign and too much to handle. Hurt is too much to bare and self love is not a focus. Why focus on self love when mom and dad love you more than they love themselves? I want to feel confident that when my kids are grown, they can push through hard times and problems, coming out stronger and wiser on the other end. I don't need my children to be the best at anything, I need them to love themselves and figure out what makes them happy because my worst fear is for them to grow up and feel that they need other people or things to be happy.
I love my kids to tiny pieces. They are the majority of my world and I can't imagine it without them. I do though, appreciate this stage of motherhood where I am focused on self love as my way of giving to them and myself. It is a dark, lonely place to lose yourself. Your world is spinning around your children, so much so that you don't slow down to see you and your needs, you're simply hanging on for dear life. Our kids deserve better than that and so do we. It doesn't make you a better parent because you throw every waking moment you have into your children, it simply reflects a diluted sense of time management.
So go love yourself, get back to who you are and what you need and your children will flourish.
I will be over here, enduring a stressful bedtime. Only because I love myself, enough to take those extra 20 minutes or so for myself on the couch. ;-) They will survive, and so will I.
<3
