I'm so tired of the bullshit............

I just read yet another blog post written by a mom who was basically screaming "Yeah, I'm a mom but I'm still a cool person! Motherhood doesn't define me! I smoke, for Christ's sake!" And to that I say:

Yeah, whatever.

I'm SO tired of all the bullshit we feed ourselves about motherhood, kids, and all the trappings therein. As if being a mother was not ENOUGH. It's a fucking HARD JOB, people. The hardest. In fact, no sane person would ever CHOOSE this job, but how do you know what you're getting yourself into? You don't know how your little angel is going to turn out. All you know is that you pee on a stick, you have life growing inside you, and you plan and scheme and imagine all the wonderful things that will come from having the world's cutest, smartest, most amazing baby.

And you have that baby and guess what? They're pretty freaking amazing! They're cute and smart and funny and WAY better than that other mom's kid. They're also little monsters, they throw tantrums (not only when they're two!), they hurl insults at you, they debate everything you say, and they break your heart over and over and over again. So, why in the HELL would you want to be a mom?

Some moms pride themselves on not driving minivans. As if that were the ultimate selling out. The truth is, it's a lot easier to haul your kids and their friends around in a minivan and thirteen cupholders looks pretty good when you're trying to feed everyone on a road trip. Better than sixteen ounces of pop on the floor. But there WILL be pop on the floor. And milk and Goldfish crackers and candy wrappers and all manner of other disgusting things you can't even imagine as you swaddle your soft, pink bundle of joy into the car seat for the first time.

Some moms will cry actual tears when they look in the mirror and they are carrying an extra five or ten or fifty pounds on their frame after giving birth. And they will lament how they've "let themselves go" no matter that their newborn has colic or their preschooler was just diagnosed with autism or their teenager is in rehab. As if they can actually do it all - maintain their beauty, their sanity and their sense of humor at the same time, while life stabs them in the heart time and time again.

Some moms will go back to school or change careers or take up public speaking so they can constantly reassure themselves that they still "got it" - ambition, drive, the ability to reinvent themselves over and over again. For what? To impress who? The kids don't care. The kids will love you no matter what you look like, or what you serve for dinner or how much money you make at your fascinating career. The kids will be thrilled when you play a board game, or get a Blizzard in the drive-thru at Dairy Queen, or take a picture of their latest Play-Doh creation.

I'm so tired of the expectations. I'm sick of people asking what you DO, instead of who you are. What do I do? Sometimes I solve problems that make achieving world peace look easy and sometimes I eat cake over the kitchen sink. But who am I? I'm a multi-faceted individual with many interests and dreams and hopes and wishes just like you. Why do I need to "prove" it by constantly achieving? Why can't I embrace whatever station of life I'm in without explanation or disparaging it or somehow adding a "yes, but?"

It's ok to be wherever you are. It's ok to be whatever you are. If you truly don't like where you've come to rest in life, you can change it. And if you truly DO like it, you don't need to explain it to anyone. Your enough is not their enough. What drives you, what you're passionate about, doesn't need to fit into anyone's mold. If having many irons in the fire fuels you, go for it! If living a simple life makes you content, so be it. As long as you are taking care of yourself and the humans you brought into this world, you're doing a great job.

Life is dynamic. It will twist and turn and change and you will become many different people over the course of your lifetime. What you once could not imagine may become your daily norm. What you once thought you could NEVER do, you will do over and over again. You will become so many different people. Who you are today is NOT who you will be tomorrow or ten years from now or on your deathbed.

You started out your life as an individual. You took a path known only to you. If you choose to be a mom, you'll have a chunk of time dedicated to the raising of little humans and that time will feel both endless and fleeting. It will be full of unimaginable joy and unimaginable pain. And it will be over before you know it. And then? You'll be a new individual. One who's weathered the storm and come out relatively unscathed. You'll have more time, more money and perhaps more energy to try new things. To reinvent yourself yet again. And hopefully you won't feel the need to justify everything you do and say. To prove you are more than "just a mom."

Stop kidding yourself. Embrace who you are, right now, without explanations or excuses. Chances are you're doing the best you can. And that's pretty freaking amazing.

Motherhood. Not for the weak.

"I suppose every daughter eventually gets to this moment with her mother. You stand there, staring in disbelief over something she's done or said - or about to say because you can feel it coming. The truth is, you don't fully appreciate your mother and all she's been through in those moments, otherwise your reactions to the scene might be a little less selfish. But you are young, you haven't "lived" yet and you respond like a person of youth would. 

So...you just sit there staring at your mother, wondering 'Why?'

And that is unsettling, right there in that moment. 

When you don't have the benefit of years of wisdom, all you an see are your own needs. Such is the case with the young. You can't understand your mother the way you should. But, in all the non-verbal, unspoken measures of judgement you know something is happening that is powerful. Whatever it is will affect you greatly. Knowing this, you are shaken in how to respond. You know intuitively that you are an extension of your mother and you haven't yet figured out in life just how that is going to work for you. And so, whatever "it" is that is about to crash into your world, you are unnerved at what it will all mean. 

In your mother, you see you.

And you don't know quite what to do with that yet. " ~ Helen Odenwald "In You I See Me"

I recently read this book, and those are the words that stuck with me throughout. The book is about two sisters and their mother and the "secret" their mother reveals that they have another sister. They eventually find her, make contact, and forge a relationship. It's a nice story. The book is not particularly well-written or organized, but it illustrates a mother/daughter relationship that comes full circle.

I have three daughters. Two biological, one "bonus" or "step" or whatever other term society likes to use to describe a child born of one mother and raised by another. I consider them all my daughters. But as individual as they each are, so is our relationship.

My oldest is 20 years old, and about to plunge headfirst into the adult world by her own choice. She has concluded that living on her own and supporting herself is the best way for her to "fit" into our family now, and that is ok with me. I'm supportive of a young adult her age taking steps to become a full-fledged adult, however misguided she might be in the actual facts of life (like needing a steady income, paying bills on time, prioritizing wants over needs). She will figure those things out by trial and error, just as I did, and hopefully remember some of the life lessons I've tried to impart along the way. Our relationship is as it should be - she, pulling away and sensitive to my input, me, wanting to keep her from being hurt, or experiencing stress, or any of the other negatives of the real world. But I can't. And, so, I must let go. And let her successes and failures be her own. And forge a new kind of relationship - a middle ground between being her mom and being her friend; still guiding but holding back a bit more. Biting my tongue when I see her about to fall into tricky situation. Helping but not hindering. Like me, she is full of big ideas and has definite ideas about how her life will unfold. But she is her own person. In her, I see me.

My middle daughter is almost 18. A near-adult, but not a bit ready to take on the world in that way. She, who is perfectly happy to reside at home, happy to be driven around instead of acquiring a driver's license, having no interest in adult rites of passage like getting a job or having a debit card. Nope, this one would happily live at home until.......well, forever, maybe. She likes the simple things, like snuggling with the dog, or watching movies. But her view of the "real world" - well, it's pretty grounded. She has a wisdom beyond her years, even if she doesn't always act on it. She's intuitive and "tuned-in," a great "reader of people" and always strives to make others happy. I worry, sometimes, that she puts others' happiness over her own. I worry that she won't get a job. I worry that she won't go to college. But I know she's still a kid. She's young and has struggles and will take a little bit longer to grow up. So, while I'm still fully her mom, I'm also her friend, and advocate and supporter. And, eventually, I'll have to push her. I just hope it's not too hard. Like me, she is funny and welcoming, warm and inviting. But she is her own person. In her, I see me.

My youngest daughter, and my "bonus" daughter, is 15. She is mature, responsible, eager to please and prefers her own company (along with her cat). She works hard and is completely confused about the trajectory of her life. As it should be. At 15, she is still at a crossroads and things could go so many directions. We get along well, she confides in me. But I am not her mother. I am her parent: the person who has raised her longer than her own mother at this point, the person who is in her daily life. I want for her all the same things as my "own" daughters. She is my own. I do not differentiate. But she is cut from a different cloth than her sisters - things that only biology can conjure - ways that only she can know because she is from another mother and has a different father. She is driven and athletic and competitive. Socially, she shrinks back. She prefers to be alone and keeps her few friends close and is fiercely loyal. Like me, she is shy and uncertain, organized and likes things orderly. But she is her own person. In her, I see me.

We're all a bit of each other. And that's what makes it so hard. And so beautiful.

In each other, we see ourselves.