Three hundred voices

Confession: I’ve never figured out when exactly you start feeling like a Good Mom. When my third child was born and I went in for her nth-month checkup, I was shocked to hear my doctor’s words: “Well, you must be getting pretty good at this by now.”

Huh?? I’m Mennonite, okay? which means I’m officially a rookie till I’ve given birth to half a dozen.

I cook homemade meals, keep the house neat, discipline little ones, read that story for the ninety-sixth time, give lots of hugs and still, somehow, carry a terrible fear that in some way I am maiming my children, missing the key element or program or formula that will enable them to thrive.

And it’s getting harder. My grandmother had maybe thirty voices telling her how to be a Good Mom. She had a mom, a grandma and a doctor, plus a few peers, plus the old ladies of the community, and I think that’s about it. {I don’t think she even knew what a Good Mom was; she was just a Mom.} Today, for every mom and grandma there are 100 books, 100 websites, and 100 social media posts telling me how to do it: three hundred voices echoing around me, everywhere I turn.

With that plethora of info, that gathering of accumulated and sometimes conflicting voices, I am certain to do it right, right? No. I am certain to do it wrong—by some standard at least—and by my own standard, if I’m measuring by that accumulation.

Voice A stresses the importance of sleep patterns, Voice B stresses consistent discipline, Voice C stresses one on one time with your child, Voice D can’t say enough about the benefits of group and social interaction. E says homeschool, F says day school, G says let Grandma help, H says don’t take advantage of her. I says the latest and greatest toys, J says the less toys the better, K says provide well for them and L says don’t give them too much. M says strong boundaries, N says love love love. O says personal time outs and cool downs when they’re angry, P says don’t you dare walk away from them when they’re angry, Q says every child is afraid of things and R says if your child is fearful there’s a problem. S says enroll those kids in lessons and sports and T says give them tons of unstructured playtime. U says birth control, V says not on your life. W says let go of formulas! but X has just the formula for you, Y is the next new parenting book that solves all the problems and Z is the blog that interprets what voices A-Y are saying.

And believe me, that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

It’s a shame, really. If somebody tells me I’m good at other things—cooking or sewing or organizing or communicating—I can feel a glow of happiness inside me. Yes, I love it. Yes, I can do it. Awww; I’m so happy you told me.

But mothering?

No. {There’s always so much more I should be doing.} No. {If only you knew the mistakes I’ve made.} No. I’m not a Good Mom. End of story.

Do the rest of you have any idea what I’m talking about? Girls, we have a problem.

I told you I read a wonderful book lately called Adoption: Choosing It, Living It, Loving It, by Dr. Ray Guerendi. I learned a lot about adoption but even more about being a mom. The buoyant humor of the author made me chuckle. And he kept surprising me by condensing the whole of parenthood into a very small and succinct wordlist.

“Being a parent is grounded in some basics—love, morals, confident authority, supervision, common sense, and good judgment.” (p.38)

“You are still persevering in the staples of parenthood—sacrifice, discipline, supervision.” (p. 129)

“Continue to show the good things of motherhood—commitment, sacrifice, guidance.” (p. 132)

They weren’t the words I expected him to choose. They didn’t even hint at getting the right method. And they were so much more about trajectory, pledges, and staying power than deep emotional connection, zen feelings, and frequent playdates.

So I started writing. What am I reaching for? What do I imagine a Good Mom would do? I began my list, and hit fifteen items without breaking a sweat. I will share a scant half with you.

• She would definitely conceive as many children as possible. {Please just laugh. I’m Mennonite, okay? But this is not an intro to discussing the ethics of family planning, and don’t you forget it.}
• She would play toys on the floor with her children. A lot.
• She would not find herself at a loss to know how to respond to their behavior.
• She would never raise her voice or speak words she’d regret.
• She wouldn’t feed them so much sugar.
• She would be all about Mommy Mommy Mommy.
• She would get up early in the morning and cook a hot breakfast.

Ecco. I’m terrible at all of these. Which may have something to do with why they stand out to me–  What I want to know is, who is setting this standard?

More next time. Meanwhile, what’s the ideal you’re reaching for? What’s the Good Mom thing you really, really want to do and can’t seem to pull off?

*****

I’m encouraging candor, not defeatism. We’ll get to the stuff we do right; hang in there.

Meanwhile, here’s a quote to chew on a while, from Elisa Morgan writing lately on A Holy Experience: “No parent, no matter how dedicated, expert, present and loving can produce a perfectly healthy and happy adult. Such a feat is simply not within our power.”