This business of mothering is challenging. I want to be an individual. I want desires of my own to be important, noticed and validated, just like the rest of us. But as a mother, there’s just no getting around the fact that I am a master at many things and a failure, too.
Take for instance my presence.
I pitch to all to be present with their children and I believe in it. But, I’m not always doing it. It’s difficult. My interests are important to me, too. Sometimes, because of the time of day, or my energy level, the weather, behaviors of others, whatever, I’m lenient with my presence.
In other words, I ignore my kids’ needs for my own interests.
To be honest, I’ve been very concerned for my 7 year old. She’s the biggest mirror in a house full of 9 people. She is clingy, refuses to eat meals at least once per day, acts stubborn, defies my requests and often seems like she’s just got a big chip on her shoulder. I buckled down on the love, cuddles and even let her sleep in my bed (every night for days on end). I listened to her tell me the injustices her older, twin sisters were slamming her with and called family meetings to remedy it. Many family meetings I passed the bell to the next speaker and bounced each child with a thought: what would it be like to be her?
I have been correcting negative behaviors by following the girls around , or just keeping my ears open for anything that didn’t sound like love, and gave pointers and tips as to how to get along better. As her mom, I even looked into our own relationship and I saw it as perfect.
But it isn’t.
Denial is a bitch!!!
I woke up in a panic with reality one morning (not long ago). It was almost as if I were thrust into her little life, I opened my mind and realized with great sorrow: I am making her independent too soon! She needs to be allowed to be a child –otherwise, she’ll try it as an adult!
My denial held tight with the whopper lie I’d been telling myself: She’s ok. But the truth was really: she’s got problems because of ME.
Here I was, just waking from a great night of sleep. There she was, just snoozing on the pillow beside me, toes crammed into my back with a kitten on top. Suddenly my mind poured out yesterday for her:
She’d desperately wanted a sleepover at a friends’ house a couple of blocks away. I told her I thought she was a little too young and that had challenged her. She went to her friend’s house to have a play day until 8:00pm, and when it came to bedtime, she asked for the sleepover, confident she was no baby. I stopped by, dropped off gear for her and kissed her goodnight. She couldn’t believe I had said “yes.” She felt excited and so grown up –just like her sisters. But, 10:30 rolled around and everyone was in their beds sleeping. She was in a strange house, in the dark, and she missed her mom. She got the guts up and went to the other mommy, crying, and asked to go home.
Well, I wasn’t at all upset, but when we got home she sure was. She said, “I guess you were right. Maybe I do need to be older. I don’t want my friend mad at me, though.” I told her it all was no big deal, no one was disappointed in her, and that a friend is someone who cares about your feelings, they don’t get mad for friends having feelings. She seemed pretty bummed, but it was late and I was tired.
We climbed into bed. I pulled my cellphone out, checked emails, scrolled through Facebook gifs and laughed out loud; but she lay there, staring at the ceiling. She said, “I’m really sorry, Momma. I tried.”
I told her, “It’s nothing, honey. You did great! You were brave to tell your friends’ mommy, that must have been difficult.” All the while my face was staring into the cellphone.
A little later she said, “I was crying. I was so scared.”
I asked, eyes glued to the damn screen, “Why? Why were you scared, honey?”
“Because you weren’t there. I wish you could have a sleepover with me at my friend’s house. Her mommy asked me if I’d like her to sit with me until I fell asleep but I couldn’t quit crying. I missed you.”
*This kills me*
Still keeping my eyes on the cell screen, I laughed gently, slid my arm around her and gave her a one-armed squeeze. “I can’t have a sleepover with you. That was nice of her to offer to sit with you. I’m glad she did that. And, I love you.”
She sighed. She said, “I don’t feel very good and I’m hungry.”
I asked her why. I thought that they had dinner. She said that they did, but said it was big chunks of meat, so she told the friend’s mom that we’re vegetarians and the mom made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That got my eyes to stop staring at the only light in the room.
I laughed –she’s been fighting tooth and nail against eating vegetarian. She just asked for pepperoni on her pizza just the day before! I was tired, wanted to read my emails and get to sleep (bad habit), so I said, “Do you want something to eat?”
She said she wanted another PB&J, so I told her (in an attempt to get to fall asleep alone for once), “Go ahead and make one and you can watch your sisters finish up their Minecraft houses before they head to bed.”
Twenty minutes later, she was climbing into bed sticky and smelling sweet. I had to tell her to go wash up and brush her teeth again. She snuggled up to my shoulder, I lay my head against her sweet smelling hair and we both fell to sleep.
Waking up with this reel fast-forwarding through my mind, my body flooded with panic. Suddenly, as if I were her –as if I’d jumped into her life, into her mind–
I could see why she ignores me ( I’ve got my face in my phone).
I could see why she demands to do things herself (I won’t).
I saw how she refuses to eat (I don’t even take a bit of time to make her a sandwich after a hard evening).
And how she acts like she’s carrying a chip on her shoulder (I don’t 100% listen).
She doesn’t feel important.
I wanted to throw up. No amount of squeezing hugs into a sleeping child can repair this. The only thing that can repair this is me! I am her mother. I am responsible –and I put all the work on her when she needed pampering. What did that tell the inner her about herself? Wouldn’t she have felt much better if I’d been more invested in the conversations? Perhaps she would have felt less angry at herself for “failing” had I focused into her eyes rather than on the ridiculous drawing of an elderly man suckling the teat of a humanoid cow. She needed me and I was 20% there. What does that tell the subconscious?? Damn it! I’m programming a motherboard here, I need to do it my best!
Yes, on the flip side, I can see that by allowing her to make a sandwich, stay up late, and sleep where she wants, I’m showing her she’s a responsible person and that I trust her. I see that that can make her a strong, independent being. I see that because my own mother was so aloof during my childhood I became very independent, also –so that’s good! But, when a child is struggling with self worth, a mother needs to show them they’re worth is beyond measure. My daughter needed comforting and I’d acted as if it wasn’t much of a big deal… but it was to her. Independence is good, but not on baby-legs (America, that means you, too).
So my advice to me and all you parents out there is:
LISTEN –with your eyes and your ears! They need eye contact, they need to read your facial expressions. They need to know they’re not rejected and to be reassured that their actions are acceptable –and even lovable! We’re programming a motherboard, here. We NEED to take it seriously! This is the basis to which they will build their entire lives upon. This is the program that will show them how to interact and process their surroundings. This is the crucial time: ages 2-7, and they desperately need the correct input.
Namaste, loves.