Bad Mommy Moments

I was chatting with a new mom the other day and one of the topics that came up was how much unsolicited advice other people like to offer. Often judgement accompanies that advice. And nothing makes a new mom feel better about herself than telling her she’s doing it all wrong.

Now, I am not a new mom. I haven’t been one in years. In fact, at one time, I was an old mom with another new baby. So I have the luxury of perspective. I don’t give out advice unless I’m asked, and I always preface it with, “This is what worked for me, but you have to trust your own instinct.” Because really, what new moms need is encouragement, and permission to ask for help when they need it.

I’m not sure this post counts as either encouragement or help, but sometimes a good laugh is worth just as much. So I’ve put together a collection of “bad” mommy moments. Some are my own, but a few have been graciously donated by other imperfect, yet perfectly wonderful moms I know.

Maybe these stories will help new moms realize that no one has all the answers, we all embarrass ourselves, and everyone makes mistakes. Your kids will be okay. Mostly. You may want to put aside a little bit of money for therapy just in case.

But seriously, everyone has a story (some of us more than one), even the person who just lectured you on appropriate potty training. They just aren’t willing to share. But I am, and so for your reading pleasure, I’ve divided these terrible tales into helpful categories.

1. The distracted mommy:

I’ve locked all my kids in the car at one time or another. As in buckled them in the car seat, shut the door, and realized the keys are locked inside with the kid. You’d think I’d have learned by the fourth, but nope, she got stuck in the mini van for about an hour too, just like all her brothers. When I shared this story with my hair stylist, she admitted she too had locked her toddler in the car, but luckily she was able to dive through the open sunroof like a modern day super-woman and rescue her child in just under two minutes.

A friend shared that while yelling at her husband on vacation in the Caribbean, she failed to notice her daughter eyeing a life size water fountain. Moments later the toddler fell in, face first. In a dramatic fashion, the gurgling, spluttering child had to be fished out of the water.

Another friend told me she once tried to order Dunkin' Donuts for her kids from the extended mouth of a garbage can, thinking it was the speaker, while a line of cars piled up behind her.

2. All in good fun, right?

The same garbage can ordering friend has a daughter who enjoys playing “Cinderella.” Mom gets to be the Wicked Stepmother, demanding that the poor young girl scrub the floors on her hands and knees, with a bucket of real water and a sponge. If mom isn’t nasty enough, the daughter gets upset. Wanting to be a good playmate on this particular day, Wicked Stepmom really gave Cinderella the “what-for.” She didn’t realize, however, that the oilman had been in the basement refilling the tank and had wandered up the back stairs. He’d obviously been standing there for a while, and it was evident by the look on his face that he didn’t know it was just a game.

3. Kids say the funniest things!

One mom’s sweet little boy tried to comfort a crying child in the checkout line. In his attempt at solidarity he announced, “My mom once stuck an M&M up my butt and it hurt.” Mortified, the mom squealed, “I did no such thing!” The indignant child worked himself into hysteria, insisting that yes this happened, and yes it hurt. Finally in the parking lot, his reference became clear. “I had to poop, mom, and the M&M in my butt made it come out.” Who doesn’t confuse M&Ms and enemas now and again?

4. Things I’ve done when I’m angry, for $200 Alex.

My kids are generally pretty bright. But occasionally I wonder if we’ve really passed along the best of our genetic material. Walking back to the car from a baseball stadium, one of my sons complained loudly about a rock in his shoe. “Kick it out,” I advised. A minute later, “Mom, the rock is still in my shoe.” More whining ensued and he continued limping through the parking lot. I finally turned to him and yelled, “You are wearing flip-flops you DUMB ASS! Just kick the rock out!” An older woman walking next to me gasped in dismay. “Don’t judge me,” I growled, turning on her. “I’m usually nice.”

A friend’s daughter was in the tub playing with her Barbie dolls. The door was closed, but the mom could hear chatter from the bathroom. She can't recall what her daughter said to set her off, but something made her irate. Throwing open the bathroom door, she ripped the doll out of her daughter's hands and threw it down the stairs. Quickly realizing the error of her ways, she slowly trekked down the steps to retrieve the doll. Poor Ken lay on the floor, headless. He’d been decapitated on descent. She tried to put the doll’s head back on but to no avail. Embarrassed, she apologized to her daughter and sheepishly handed back a stumpy-necked Ken.

5. Dads do dumb things too.

Lest you boys feel left out, I’ll share a fabulous daddy moment courtesy of my husband. When my oldest son was about three, he had a cute little red hat, the kind with earflaps and a brim. It was a chilly day and we were at an outdoor festival when my husband had to use the restroom. My potty-training son was happy to join him. When they returned a little while later, the hat was missing and my son was wet. “Uh, where’s his hat?” I asked confused. My husband could barely contain himself. "I was peeing and the next thing I know he’s out of his stroller, looking into the toilet bowl. It wasn’t like I could just stop, you know?” Incredulous, I sputtered, “You pissed on his head?” “Yup,” he answered.

Rethinking Sibling Rivalry

When my oldest son comes home from college for a visit we are all so excited to see him, the younger children especially. It’s lovely to watch him reconnect with his teenage brother and disappear into a room to catch up, or take his youngest brother out for breakfast when no one else is up, or snuggle with his little sister on the couch for an episode of “My Little Pony.” The nature of their relationship as siblings, and as friends, shines through in these moments.

Don’t get me wrong, there are days when I need a whistle to referee their incessant bickering, but I think there is a difference between normal, we live together and get under each other’s skin type of bickering, and real discord.

I am saddened when I see young siblings display blatant disrespect for one another, and parents who chalk this up to normal “sibling rivalry.” Over time, the nastiness might reach a toxic level, and I can’t help but think these siblings won’t want much to do with each other when they have a choice later on.

So what are some ways we can consciously help our kids build healthy relationships with one another? There’s probably no magic recipe, but here are a few things we try to do in our house:

Foster a culture of respect and healthy communication between them.

The other day three of my four were just absolute monsters. One kept going into another’s room without permission to steal a coveted charger. One was constantly tattling. And the third was getting physical with the other two out of sheer frustration. I needed a megaphone never mind a whistle!

We sat them down and told them they were driving us nuts and needed to work it out. Their assignment was to go off together, acknowledge one thing they knew they were doing that was disrespectful to the others, and then offer a solution to correct the behavior. Turns out they were pretty self-aware and confessed quickly to their own part in the madness. By having them approach the situation this way, we encouraged them to take responsibility for their own actions vs. blame each other, and we didn’t allow the bad feelings to linger.

Respect and good communication skills are a cornerstone of any healthy relationship. Why shouldn’t good habits begin with siblings?

Allow them space from one another.

My sister, a girlfriend, and I had an impromptu girls’ night at my house last week. Once dinner was over I shooed my swarming children to their own rooms and told them to entertain themselves. We girls had to catch up.

My brood are used to mom and dad having date night, dad having guys’ night, mom’s book club, and numerous other events to which they are explicitly not invited. So I think it’s perfectly acceptable, necessary even, to allow them space with their own friends minus annoying sibling interruptions. If one has a play date, then I make sure the others are out of the way.

It’s also important they learn to respect each other’s personal space. It's a rule to knock before entering anyone else’s room and to ask before borrowing someone else's things.

In a family we obviously have to share, but it’s equally important we learn to respect each other's boundaries and privacy.

Require them to care for each other.

When my oldest son was fourteen, he was home babysitting while I was at dinner with some friends. About an hour in, he called to say the baby was sick (the baby was actually three and a half, but as with youngest children, she will be forever known as “the baby”). I told him I’d be right home. “No,” he said. “I’ve given her a bath and changed her pajamas. The sheets are in the laundry and I put the sleeping bag on her bed. I stayed with her until she fell asleep and she seems fine now.”

I nearly cried. Not only is this one going to make a great daddy some day, but his sister will remember the love and care she received from him, even if she doesn’t remember the exact event.

My kids certainly aren’t raising each other, but I think giving them some responsibility for one another has real value.

Cultivate a relationship with each of them as individuals.

My husband and I had a plan when spacing our children. The rule was no two in college at the same time. This worked great for the first three and then number four came along twenty-two months later. Best laid plans and all that. 

But the age gap between the first three allowed me to spend quality time with a new baby while the others were off at school. Then my attention could switch, guilt-free, to the older kids later in the day. It helped me establish a relationship with each of them as individuals.

Of course the more kids there are, or the closer in age, the more difficult it becomes to carve out one-on-one time. But it’s still important. We’ll often forgo large birthday parties and do something special with just the birthday child. One of my favorite memories is taking our third son to Fenway Park for a Sox game on his tenth birthday. He’s a huge baseball fan, but I know he treasured the time alone with us almost as much as he enjoyed watching the game. 

We try hard to honor our kids as individuals, and we find opportunities to explore their unique interests with them whenever possible.

Sibling relationships are a training ground for adult relationships, and our siblings can be built-in best friends if these relationships are nurtured. My relationship with my sister is one of my most treasured. I want that for my kids. And I think it’s working, most days!

It's Not Our Job to Make Them Happy

This morning I gave one of my children the option to stay home from school. He’s been under the weather and I thought a day in bed with some chicken soup would be just the thing. At first he agreed, snuggling back beneath his blankets, but a few minutes later I heard him brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “Today is my favorite day of school,” he said, and then went on to list all the great things that happen on Wednesdays.

This is relevant because last year the same child was begging to stay home from school, sick or well. It had been a rough year for various reasons, many his own doing, but I think we’ve made it to the other side. As I celebrated this quiet victory, I started thinking about our role as parents when our children are struggling.

Of course it’s gut wrenching to watch them struggle. Our instinct tells us to swoop in and make it better, to fix it. But is this always the right thing? When they face a challenge beyond their capacity to manage, it most certainly is our job to step in. Sometimes we have to take matters out of their hands and into our own. But, in my experience, this should be more the exception than the rule. 

We live in a culture of helicopter parents. When I googled the term to make sure I had it right, article after article appeared. The theme was clear. We’re a generation of parents who micromanage our kids’ lives. Consequently we’re creating a generation of kids with fewer life skills and an attitude of entitlement. I think we are doing them a grave disservice.

A recent example: My husband is Commissioner of the local flag football league. In general, it is a fantastic instructional league with levelheaded parents and a dedicated group of unpaid staff working to give the kids a positive experience. But you can’t imagine some of the emails he receives. After days of tryouts to create balanced teams, and numerous communications indicating that no team placement requests would be honored, parents nonetheless wrote to complain and request team placements. And the complaints went something like this, "Johnny can’t be on that team. None of his friends are on that team. You need to switch him.”

I think about the message these parents gave to their children. You are incapable of making new friends. Your needs outweigh those of everyone else in the league. You should avoid uncomfortable situations.

It actually feels crippling. But if we shouldn't always fix problems for our children, we have a responsibility to help them learn to do it for themselves. And maybe this is a more difficult task.

Back to the son who wanted to go to school today. Last year was rough, and he’d been the cause of some of the strife. Part of working through it meant taking responsibility for his actions and then making amends. My heart broke for him, but I couldn’t fix it for him.

What I could do was tell him I loved him no matter what, that I was right behind him every step of the way, and that his home and his family were a safe haven. I could remind him that doing the right thing mattered, even when it was hard. And I could, and would, send him to school to face the music.

As difficult as things were in the moment, he is better for having had the experience. He’s learned hard things don’t last forever. He’s learned he is brave and good, and he knows he is loved. He’s learned something real about hurt and forgiveness, and he understands everyone makes mistakes. 

It is not our job to remove all obstacles from our children’s lives. But it is our job to equip them with the skills they need to navigate the world and manage those obstacles. If they don’t face struggles, and successfully make their way through them, they won’t know how capable they are.

It is not our job to make our children happy, but it is our job to love, guide, support, and empower them, even when this is the more difficult task.

Dating Advice for My Kids

Some of my children are now dating. I found this out several years ago when my oldest son stood in the kitchen with his arm around a pretty teenage girl and a big, stupid smile on his face. “This is my girlfriend, mom.”

Uh oh. It was time to take the ‘conversation’ to the next level, I thought, eyeing her mini-skirt. So I talked with him, well at him really, about the difference between love and infatuation, the importance of safe sex, mutual respect, how we know when it’s the ‘one,’ etc. etc. Of course this wasn’t our first go around with these topics, but the ante had just been upped and I felt the need to repeat myself many, many times.

However, while I was imparting my infinite wisdom, his eyes were glazing over. Apparently my advice needed to be streamlined into golden nuggets of twitterable length. So here’s what I’ve come up with, and I think it applies to anyone dating, not just teen-agers. My kids have since verified that this is in fact useful information, and occasionally they will ask me to repeat it.

There are only two rules.

Number 1: Never date anyone more messed-up than you. People are not projects. (I sometimes use colorful language here for emphasis, and to sound cooler than I am, but since this is a blog post…)

Okay who remembers thinking, and maybe this one applies to the ladies more, “I know he has some issues, dare I say red flags, but he will change for me.” Um, nope. We all hope that the right person will help us become the best version of ourselves. In a healthy relationship, I think this is absolutely true. But the raw material has to be there, and in recognizable form, right from the start. It’s exhausting and sometimes destructive when it isn’t.

Further, and from a different angle, it really isn’t fair to think you have the right to change someone else. People are not projects, and I surely wouldn’t want to be considered one.

When my son broke up with his first serious girlfriend, he shared that the relationship had been one struggle after another. When he ended it he told her, “Don’t change. You are the absolute perfect person for someone, it just isn’t me.” If we can’t be honest about this, we deny our self and our partner the opportunity to be with that someone who really is a perfect fit.

Number 2: Everyone has issues. Your partner’s issues can’t push your buttons.

No one is perfect. For example, my husband and I both have some obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Case in point - I have a particular counter space that needs to stay cleared, and if it isn’t then the things on it must be arranged geometrically and to my liking. If they aren’t, I begin to twitch and pace. My husband likes his t-shirts folded and arranged a very particular way in his drawer. If they aren’t, he will take them all out and fix them.

Now, my t-shirts can be squashed haphazardly, and his counter space can have keys and money strewn all over, but if I’m doing the laundry, I put the t-shirts in the drawer the way he likes, and if he’s cleaning the kitchen, my counter items are arranged neatly. The thing is, we get it about the other one’s quirks. And we try hard not to sweat the small stuff.

But if something really does bother you, it probably isn’t small stuff and you should pay attention. Bigger things that push our buttons need to be handled. Or we need to admit that they are fundamental differences and may make us incompatible.

Fast-forward a few years and the same son is breaking up with another girl. He tells me he thinks he just annoys her all the time. His lighthearted nature is interpreted as not caring deeply, his charming forgetfulness is considered callous, his interests are said to be frivolous. “Mom, I push her buttons and she pushes mine, and soon we are not going to like each other very much.” Oh he does listen!

Back when I was dating, one of my very wise aunts suggested I identify the three things that were most important to me in life. Whether this was having children, practicing a faith, a career, whatever, these fundamental things should not have to be compromised in a relationship. It would be worthwhile, she said, to seek a partner who shared these key values, because that person would truly understand me, and I him. It was excellent advice and I sometimes use it as addendum 1 to rule #2.

As my kids move from dating, to long-term relationships, to possible marriage one day, my wish is that they find someone they can build a satisfying life with, someone who loves them for who they are, not despite who they are. So I repeat my dating advice often, encourage them to trust their instincts, and then relax and enjoy the new and interesting young people that grace our lives because some of my children are now dating. 

On Motherhood and Mountain Climbing

So I decided to climb a mountain for my 40th birthday. Not a small mountain, but a sleep outside for 9 nights, no running water, altitude sickness, sub-zero at the top kind of mountain. Why would I want to do this you ask? A legitimate question - when I invited my sister to come, she responded that for her 40th we would be doing something sensible like drinking wine in Italy. She of course came out of obligation and duty. But truly, as this birthday approached, I could feel my life changing in profound ways. My oldest child was moving out of the house. My youngest child was in grade school. There were no babies about and no more coming. Sleep can be counted on in regular 7 or 8 hour intervals, date night is an established thing, everyone can buckle themselves into seatbelts, and they can all push themselves on the swing at the playground (well if I’m truly honest, she’s the 4th child and we don’t actually go to any playgrounds) but you get my meaning. Space was opening up in my life, space for me. What did I want to do with it? 

Now let me explain. I love being a mom and I have had the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mom, a part-time working mom, and a full-time working mom. We did what we felt was right at different phases of our family’s life. I have no regrets about my choices and my life is blessedly full. So this climb was not about dissatisfaction. It was more about what’s next and how will I know, because for the last 18 years, I have really been a mom first, above all else. It’s not like my children don’t need me now, but they need me differently. 

So I climbed. And it was hard. There was no running water so the tent smelled rather interesting by day 3, and by day 4 I wouldn’t step outside without a hat. Some nights were so cold we filled our water bottles with hot water and used them as little heaters at the bottom of our sleeping bags. When I hit 15,000 feet my head hurt so badly I wanted to fling myself off the side of the mountain. 

There were also moments of raw beauty, like the lava tower gleaming against the bright blue sky; or the clouds flashing with electricity thousands of feet below us; or the glacier whose transient presence brought us to tears; or a first glimpse at the Southern Cross. 

On summit day, we woke up at 4 am in the freezing darkness, and began a grueling day of switchback hiking 3000ft up. No one wanted to eat, and no one really wanted to talk. We focused on putting one foot in front of the other for 8 hours. Some of us had a mantra. Mine was nothing more than counting in increments of 60 just like I do on the treadmill. Part way up, my best friend since middle school (yes, she too accompanied me on this crazy adventure) said, “What do you think, this or labor?” And in that moment, I really couldn’t say which was more difficult. 

And then we were there. I have a picture of me smiling in front of the sign at the summit, and then kissing that same sign with delirious glee. I think there are pictures of me kissing my newborn babies with a similar expression on my face. Looking back at the experience, I just don’t remember the pain. 

Now I’m back to my life and the “real” world, or at least my world, and here is what I’ve learned. First, motherhood prepared me for this climb like nothing else could. From endurance, to functioning on little sleep, to appreciating a small moment in a large experience, motherhood is an excellent teacher. It is a long haul endeavor, not a sprint to the finish; it requires us to adapt to new situations and environments with little or no training; it calls on us to participate fully and without reservation. One of our mountain guides shared that the most successful group of climbers are generally middle-aged women (am I middle aged???). The mothers in our group smiled at one another knowingly. What’s a little mountain climbing compared to months of morning sickness, 15 hours of labor, years of sleeplessness, fearful nights in an emergency room, fearful nights waiting for a new driver to come home? What’s a little mountain climbing compared to a tiny hand holding yours, a warm body with footy pajamas snuggled in your bed, sticky ice cream cone kisses, sunny afternoons at a ball field? Kilimanjaro was big, but we’d already done something bigger.

Here is what else I learned. Sometimes you get answers, but not to the questions you are asking. I didn’t receive any earth-shattering revelations about my future, but I did find a little worthy insight about being mindful. Living intentionally is a practice and one that requires constant recommitment. Sometimes this means making a change, and sometimes it means fully embracing just where we are. When we remove the background noise, the essential becomes clear.

I have been practicing this mindfulness lately and the unexpected, overwhelming emotion that I experience as a result is gratitude. I am so grateful for summer beach days, colorful changing leaves, the starry winter sky, laughter around the dinner table, hot cocoa and mittens at the front door, a good book, good friends – the experiences and people that make up my full, messy, wonderful life. I don’t need to know exactly where I will be tomorrow or the next day because I am truly present in this moment. And it’s a good moment, and that’s enough.