Monday Morning Parenting: Mothers as Martyrs

I guess it's part of our culture as humans to put certain classes of people up on pedestals--movie stars, models...mothers. I have been straining under the weight of the motherhood mantle lately. The one where I am supposed to take care of my baby, keep my home immaculate, prepare a perfect dinner every night, make sure my husband gets some on the regular while maintaining perfectly coiffed hair, impeccable make-up, a fit body and wearing a cute sweater and tan pants. It's a voice that chants it's your job to do it all and make it look easy. The expectations are too high, unrealistic and practically inhumane. I would have to be superhuman to do it all. Oh, that's where the term supermom come from. Bump that foolishness. I am getting out of the trap.

See it's also our nature as humans to tear down those whom we build up. Read any comic books series and you'll see what I mean. I can't hop two feet on the Internet without tripping over an article vilifying mothers for doing a poor job of child-rearing. We pay our kids too little attention, we don't feed them the right foods, we don't engage them in the right enrichment activities, the list goes on. A mother can literally go insane trying to live up to a standard that is a moving target, and she will never be perfect. Accept that.

Which brings me to mommy guilt. I have read about mothers who feel bad when they buy themselves new clothes or go back to work because they feel their kid(s) are being robbed of something. So we get in the habit of sacrificing. We give up the manicures, the girls night out, the career. But the truth is that the price of too much self-sacrificing is very high. Your identity, even your sanity can quickly vanish in the name of giving your all to your child(ren).

You might wonder where all this is coming from. Last Monday I had a mommy meltdown (probably the first of many) brought on by exhaustion from being overworked. That day I did my usual with Marlie (fed her, played with her, put her down for her naps) and my usual chores (washed cloth diapers, cleaned the bathroom, tidied up the kitchen). Then evening came and Damon was not around to take over. I had to put Marlie to bed which is normally his thing. After a marathon day, I was not equipped to handle her resistance to going to sleep. From 6 pm to 10 am she put up a fight and was winning the battle. At one point, I plopped her down in her play yard and just started screaming. She was so frightened that she started to shake and cry. Then I started to cry. I went downstairs for a timeout. I was ashamed of myself. I had scared my baby. I scared myself. I felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness because there was no one around to help me. I kept thinking this is not how it should be.

I was able to collect myself after calling Damon and I eventually got her to sleep, but I didn't get much rest that night. The same feelings of guilt and incompetence kept washing over me in waves. I recognized the feeling. It was burn out. I realized that I had to get off this supermom train that was destined for martyrdom. One resolution is that I am no longer going to spend entire days alone with Marlie when Damon goes out of town. The other is for me to get some more time out of the house doing stuff that makes me happy (not running errands or grocery shopping or chauffeuring Marlie to play dates).

I am not vying for sainthood. I am only human. I am a mother.