“And when I reveal my true heart, not everyone is going to approve. What I know now is that I don’t need them to.” ―
We sit cross legged sifting white shells through our fingers, tracing the grooves like braille. My son is on the towel in front of me as I rest my forearm in the sand watching the green of his eyes dance like the turquoise waves of the ocean. From this angle, I can watch him explore the world. The last rays of sun catch in his blonde hair, accenting the strands as though he has highlights.
We could go to the beach every day if we wanted, but I still try to stop and observe the small things, so I take nothing for granted.
I look around and notice a shell wasteland, the bodies picked apart by the storm. It reminds me of a graveyard, though I try not to think of it that way with my son planted squarely in the middle.
I slow my breathing and take in the scene, trying to engrave it on my memory, knowing the present moment is all I have and all I need.
Later in the kitchen he says “Mommy” for the 1000th time as he slides a brown egg off the counter and drops into onto the floor, yellow yolk seeping everywhere on the white tile. I sigh deeply and bend over to pick up the gooey mess. Cleaning up after a toddler seems to be my day job most of the time. I try and remember to be grateful I get to hear the word “Mommy” escape his lips. I remember when I would have done anything to hear it. Being grateful in the present moment helps, but it doesn’t negate the fact that I’m in a grueling season.
That evening I post a picture of my son and I, talking about trying to see our time together as an opportunity, rather than an interruption, because it’s the year of COVID-19, I’ve just lost my babysitter, and my husband is away on business. All of this means I won’t get to write. I won’t get to push forward my purpose or my goals. It’s exhausting to have these constant set-backs. I make these sacrifices willingly and yet it doesn’t detract from its difficulty.
That’s when the “mom-shaming” begins.
We’ve all been there. 80% of moms say they’e been judged unkindly by other moms. Mom shaming is where we overtly or inadvertently think we know better than someone else how to raise their kids and offer up unsolicited advice or guilt-inducing comments. Chances are you’ve had it done to your or you’ve done it. It’s the subtle, sly words of superiority and judgment. In the age of internet, parenting has become our god and people feel free to post rude and unhelpful comments on your wall.
I am not prepared for it. I’ve had my fair share of trolls over the years who feel the need to send me private messages about how I should be more grateful for my son and “treasure” the moments. How I should be happier since I got the miracle I so wanted after many years of praying. Emails from strangers who don’t know me and yet have the audacity to question my parenting and say things like, “Raising a child is a woman’s greatest purpose on earth. It’s sad you don’t think so.”
If one more person tells me I should be grateful for my son and it “goes so fast,” I swear I will go get a gun license.
These words, while perhaps being well-meaning feel toxic to me. Maybe I am tender about it, but you would be too if this story was repeated over and over.
As if they could even begin to know or measure how grateful I am for my son. How every morning my heart wakes with excitement to see his fluffy bed-head. How every day I thank God for him in my life.
I know he’s a miracle. AND I know being his mother is not the ONLY thing I was put on this earth to do.
I can be grateful for him AND it still be HARD! It’s hard on days he keeps me from doing my work. It doesn’t make me a bad person to admit I have tough day—it makes me authentic.
It’s complicated and I live within the both/and story of my life without having to sugar coat it.
It got me thinking that in this year of COVID-19 where uncertainty has been our only certainty, where parents lives have been disrupted in terrible ways, where we’ve been forced to become provider and homeschool teacher, parent, and friend—we may all be done with the mom shaming. It got me thinking of all the choices we’ve had to make, not knowing if we’re doing the right thing, but just trying to survive. One mother decides to send their children to school wearing masks, while another mother decides to hunker down and learn homeschooling. These, brave difficult choices we have to make in this age. We judge each other for them. But I am tired of the ways we hurt each other. Enough is enough. Let’s not let our own insecurities cause others pain.
I’m tired of my guilty comparison when I see a mom on instagram who cuts her toddler’s food into shapes, when I can barely get mine to stop throwing his food on the floor. I’m tired of feeling like I’m doing it wrong whether I’m with him full-time or working part-time.
I’m not the kind of patient mother I want to be for him when I don’t get a break to pursue self-care and my purpose.
We’re all doing the best we can and sometimes that best looks less than ideal.
It’s time we took back our power. We don’t need your criticism, believe me we are doing a good job of beating ourselves up on our own.
With our lives and our friendships mostly on a screen now, we need to do a better job of offering each other grace, and affirming one another instead of criticizing each other’s parenting choices or telling each other to be more grateful. You have no idea the status of a person’s heart.
I’m ready to be a girl on fire.
So you do you, Mama.
