One of my favorite of Lisa Belkin’s blog posts is about how we all airbrush our stories of parenting. She talks about the ugly truths that we keep hidden, either about ourselves as parents or about our doubts about our children. I still think about it, even all of these months later.
When I read this I nod, but, probably more importantly, I think: this is just not me … I particularly loved the last line of her NYT magazine piece: “You often learn who you are by realizing who you are not. ”
I am consistently more honest and consequently more bleak about my children than most parents. (“More honest than the average HBS student,” a business school professor commented of me a few years ago). I am instinctively open about my childrens’ flaws and weaknesses, about their speech therapy and their lice, their brattiness and their defiance. I am also quick to acknowledge my own failures as a parent, my short fuse, my distraction, my inability to sit and just be, my frustration and impatience with many of motherhood’s quotidian tasks. I simply feel no deep urge to protect myself – or them – by smudging with vaseline the lens through which I see parenting. But why, and is this a bad thing?
When there is an altercation on the soccer field or at the bowling alley, my automatic reaction is to assume that somehow Grace or Whit is at fault. When they reveal that a teacher was unhappy with them about something I instinctively take the side of the teacher. What does it mean that I often, basically, assume the worst of them? I don’t know. I do know I don’t believe anything is gained by inaccurately representing myself as a mother; so many do this, and I think it creates feelings of inadequacy in others and immense pressure in the self. I also know I don’t believe in protecting them artificially from the way the world works, both formally (rules) and informally (opinions and judgment).
There are other places I feel asynchronous with many of my peer parents. I’ve written before of my fierce dedication to not overscheduling my kids, and frankly I feel more, not less, guilt and conflict about this as they get older. I’ve also expressed that some of my proudest parenting moments are when my children demonstrate independence and courage. One of my closest friends told me a few years ago that from her vantage point it was clear that I wanted most for my kids was that they be smart and brave. I don’t know that everybody else shares this priority: when Grace flew alone, at the age of 5, I was shocked by how many other mothers actively judged me.
I try very hard not to compare, to feel confident in my parenting, not to allow the winds of judgment and criticism that blow so freely around these parts to buffet me too much. But some days I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I feel different, and most of all about my predilection to share the ugly, the messy, the imperfect. I may have some sense of what I am not, as a mother, but what does that mean I am?
(part of this was originally posted in 2008; it’s clearly still on my mind)
I feel much the same way, and I’m only 9 months into the journey. In my group of “mommy friends,” people are always commenting on my baldfaced honestly (some admire it, others, I can tell, are horrified by it). I am quick to point out Abra’s poor sleep habits, her delay in moving around this world, her screechiness. When someone asked me if we were planning on having another baby, I quickly replied, “Hell no!” Mothering is hard enough; why do we need to make it look easier than it is?
My friend, get out of my head. I was just talking about this with a dear friend–my tendency to immediately presume my child is the problem in a problem.
This is a gorgeous, honest post. I love your honesty. Because you represent your life, your non-airbrushed life, I can relax more into my own. xo
me too, lindsey. i am experiencing such resonance in this very moment that the words are both flooding in and escaping me. will sit with, breathe through, and hopefully be able to express the wild emotions and my deep reflections about the real, imperfect journey of motherhood. thank you for your honesty and grace.
*Everyone* experiences messy, ugly, and imperfect. And I think everyone shares too — even if they don’t write publicly (e.g., via a blog), they share in other ways, whether conversationally or otherwise (a quick scan of one’s Facebook feed corroborates this notion…).
From my perch, your sharing of both sides of parenting is lovely and realistic.
You are brave. Your write out loud and you live through your words. I’m not interested in airbrushed parenting anymore than I am living an airbrushed life. Life in all it’s chaotic beauty and messy configurations beckons us to be the most brave in who we are at our core. You are living your fabulous, fragile, flawed life outloud and for this I applaud and adore you all the more.
At the days’end when there is sand stuck to sandals, toys strewn across a floor, legos everywhere, dishes in a sink, laundry to be done again, emails to address, teeth to brush, lunches to pack it is the evidence of a life lived not in a Madison Avenue driven picture of perfection but in showing up and sharing it out loud. My friend, you are a warrior, a literary warrior.
Please cut, paste and post this comment above your desk the next time doubt pays a visit. This will shut her ugly voice up.
Trish
patriciadolan@comcast.net
Trish
I am so glad @AdamsLisa shared this on Twitter. I too struggle with the over scheduling piece. We hope to raise resilient, curious, bold children. I don’t think this happens when every moment of the day is planned and kids are not asked to cope with boredom. LOVE that you let your daughter fly alone at five. I took flack from a teacher for letting my boys (9 and 6) walk a mile home from school. Every injury that has sent one of my five to the ER has happened when I am in the same room with them. Sometimes it is clear the farther away I am the better. THank for writing this. It was a wonderful way to start my morning.
Airbrush parenting is very real, but so is most of life. I remember dropping in on some friends unexpectedly and thinking, “Wow, so this is how their house looks when they’re not entertaining. I thought I was the only one who was so messy.”
The one thing I worry about is that in writing honestly about our kids, we may be making decisions for them about their online trail that they will not be able to alter later on. People tut tut about young job candidates who lose offers or positions because of Facebook indiscretions; will our children have the same complaint about their parent’s indiscretions during their childhood?
I think that says something powerful when the ER injuries happen in the same room as you! Sort of like most auto accidents happen a few miles from home, right?
I needed to read this today. I’m so glad you posted it. Tomorrow, my 9 year old will board a plane by herself for the first time and I am feeling quite anxious about it. She’ll spend about 7 weeks away from me and her dad – her yearly summer tour with her grandparents and her birth father. This time of year always makes me feel like a crappy parent. Thinking about all the ways I was too busy, too tired or too distracted to spend time with her.
I love your last paragraph. And I love that you end this post with a question.
“I try very hard not to compare, to feel confident in my parenting, not to allow the winds of judgment and criticism that blow so freely around these parts to buffet me too much. But some days I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I feel different, and most of all about my predilection to share the ugly, the messy, the imperfect. I may have some sense of what I am not, as a mother, but what does that mean I am?”
I feel the exact same way. I think it means we’re honest. And perhaps that we have different dreams for our children that don’t fit so nicely into the cultural norm. But goodness, I thank God for that.
I’m so… with you this issue!!
Your post (and the earlier one about choosing to not over-schedule your kids) totally struck a chord with me. Especially this quote from the earlier post: “Even in an area where I feel relatively confident about my biases, doubt creeps in, mingling with my intuition; perhaps this combination of fear and sureness is the definition of motherhood.” This is pretty much exactly how I feel about parenthood. When I am at work I am very confident in my decisions. At home, not so much.
Thank you for writing about this.
It’s refreshing to me when someone shares the truth that parenting isn’t all butterflies and moonbeams. I feel I’ve had a harder time than most people in my community raising my son. He is a beautiful child, but seemingly much harder than anyone else shares. Raising children to be smart and brave doesn’t exactly seem to be in vogue right now. Maybe those of us who stand up and talk about the challenges can change that.
I consider myself to be a realistic parent, I love my children more than anyone else as I should, but I know they are only children and expect no more from them. That means I don’t have great goals or ambitions for them. I just want them to be content, polite, open and honest. Everyday. It’s enough, but it also means I’m not typically the kind of parent that pushes or expects too much from them. My approach is a direct reaction to what I found so challenging of my own childhood. Like you I don’t over program them, in fact I hardly program them at all. And like you, that oddly causes me guilt as well. But life is short, and we spend too much of it racing around, so I want them to grow up living slower lives. It’s a different approach then most I think.
As always, I love reading your thoughts and ideas.
xo
I didn’t really think this post was about her children. There weren’t any details shared here that could be harmful later on. I thought it was an honest account about how we all want to look good. From my point of view, I didn’t think that there were any indiscretions here.
I really needed to see this. So often I look for comfort among other parents only to see their jaws drop when I talk of something I am struggling with regarding my kids.
But this, is so helpful! It’s so comforting to know that we all have rough spots. That we aren’t doing it wrong just because it’s hard. If everyone were this honest, we would be able to help each other so much more!
xoxo
The thing I want most of my children is for them to be independent. I think it’s a value that both my husband and I share in part due to how independent we had to be when we were growing up. I am also honest with my children’s flaws. I am honest with everything. I’ve written about my honesty many times – sometimes it is good, sometimes it is bad, but that’s all I can be.