Current mood:

uncomfortable

So, I've been reading a particular journal for quite some time now, and I'm sort of stuck in between a rock and a hard place. I so desperately want to offer my opinions, however, they are so off the beaten path, I'm afraid at some point I'll hurt someone's feelings. Never mind the fact that I've been attacked in the past for my views. I'm talking about parenting.
I'm steadily watching the author of this blog become disenchanted with her children. Oh, don't get me wrong, she loves them to death, adores them and cares for them, but let me tell you, she's become awfully distraught. I just want to knock on her door, tell her to get the hell out of the house for a while and enjoy herself for the day. And leave the babies behind.
She seems very overwhelmed. And saddened by the fact that she's overwhelmed.
I just want to give her a great big bear hug and tell her that she doesn't have to be with her children every second of the day for them to love her.
Am I an expert on the science of raising children? Absolutely not. But I definitely have opinions based on experience. I've been a mom now for 17 years and I don't ever remember a time when I thought to myself "this SUCKS". Sure there were times when I was tired, tuckered out, or couldn't seem to find enough time in a day, but that's when I went into "I don't have to mode".
I'm reminded of a poem, an old poem mind you, but one that sets the wheels of parenting freedom in motion.

Mother, oh Mother, come shake out your cloth
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing and butter the bread,
sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
for children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

As soon as a mother realizes that she doesn't need to do it all, the better. Starting with mundane things. Getting upset because you didn't have time to do the dishes because you were to busy rocking your baby will only cause resentment. Putting the baby down, while you do the dishes will not disrupt his or her harmony. Separation anxiety is nurture, not nature. It's learned, not inbred.

There are just so many things flying around in my head right now, I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. I want to shake her, and tell her to put down the fucking books and just do what feels right. Don't want to be walking around with a baby in your arms? THEN DON'T. You don't HAVE to.
Everyone worries about what the baby will feel if mommy isn't carrying him or her around all day. What about the bad vibes you're emitting by stressing about the fact that you have to carry the baby around? Don't you think the baby's feeling that?
Is it better for the child to be feeling your stress in your touch? Hearing your resentment in your voice?

I feel for her, I really truly do. It breaks my heart to think that she's feeling burned out. It breaks my heart to read that she's not enjoying every moment she spends with her children.

I'm not Supermom. Never have been, never will be. But I have four happy, healthy, imaginative, independant, respectful, intellectual, intelligent, hilarious, loud, rowdy, rambunctious, cuddly children. And I did it. I helped them get this way. And I love every minute of it.
And I did it without a book, or Dr. Sears. I did it with my heart. I'm still doing it with my heart. And I wouldn't change a thing.