"Hey, Mom. It's Poozie." *sniff*
"Hi, honey. What's wrong?"
"Oh, Mom. I can't do it anymore."
"Can't do what?"
"I can't do this job. I suck at it. I don't have the stamina to survive them, the kids. And I don't know how to do it. I don't know what I'm doing."
"Oh, honey. You don't suck at it. You're doing a great job."
"Then why does he fuss and cry all the time? He's unhappy because of me. And I'm unhappy because of him."
"Honey, he's just a baby. All he wants is for you to love him."
"But I do, and it's not enough."
"Yes it is."
"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to raise a kid."
"Neither did I. But I did it and you will too. You already ARE doing it. Look at your firstborn. You didn't kill her, and she's thriving."
"Yeah, but that was different."
"How?"
"Because I only had her, and I worked. And you were still here."
"Yeah, but you still raised her. And look at her now."
"But she was easy. And he's not!"
"Oh, she was easy? I remember your tears over her too. Did you forget her tantrums and crying through the night?"
"No."
"And you made it through that."
"Yeah."
"And you'll make it through this."
"But how? I don' t know what I'm doing!
"Just do what I did - remember the way YOU were raised. And think of the people you want your kids to become. Teach them how to get there."
"But I keep screwing up and yelling at them and losing my temper."
"So did I. So do all moms. But we all turn out okay. Say you're sorry and move on. And try again."
"But what if I screw them up?"
"Honey, you won't. And I know already you haven't. While you've been sitting there crying, didn't you see the worry in his eyes? He brought you his favorite toys and a pillow to lay your head on. He patted your head, just like you pat his when he cries. He pointed to your tears and said, 'Sad' and then, 'Sorry, Mommy.' Now doesn't that tell you that you're doing something right?"
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Then keep doing it. It won't be easy, but it never has been. But it's worth it. One day your kids will call you like this, and you can say these same things to them. And you can tell them what I've told you."
"But what if I'm not there for them like you aren't for me?"
"Then you write it down. But they'll know anyway, because of the way you raised them."
"Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome. You'll be fine."
"I know."
"There you go. That sounds like the Elizabeth I know."
*groan*
"I love you, kiddo."
"I love you too, Mom. Bye."
How am I going to make it through raising my kids without my mom there to guide me or reassure me, or even annoy me? It was a rough morning, and the only solace I had was an imaginary conversation with my mom. Pitiful. I would write what I said to my dad too, but I don't want to wallow in the grief too deeply today. I just wish... ugh. Fill in that blank yourself. And if you still have parents around, then stop wishing and go DO it. For me. (And let me know what advice you get back so I can at least pretend I have my mom guiding me.)
5 comments:
E-I'm so sorry for your grief right now. I wish I could share my mama with you. She did leave me a comment not that long ago about being a mom. "Motherhood is a really hard job. Just remember when you are older the sactifices are not nearly as bad as they seem at this time. It's one helleva job with many, many rewards." And remember when Hannah left a young Samuel in the old Testament in the care of Eli. It wasn't the best environment for a young boy but Samuel continued to "grow in stature and in favor with the Lord and men." God never left Samuel and God will never leave you. I know you feel alone sometimes and you feel like an 'orphan' of sorts but you will always have a heavenly Father who will always, always be with you and will guide you. Trust His leadership and remember that Katie and Jackson are His children, too. So even though I KNOW you won't screw them up, you can rely on God's love for them, and for you.
I literally have nothing to say except I know you need some support so I'm giving you what I can think of!
First, I swear everyone, with or without kids, has cabin fever and is in a rut right now. I'm serious, everyone I know is in a funk, except my wonderful husband Bob. Even the dogs in our neighborhood have cabin fever. Just know you're not alone in terms of, well, feeling alone!
Second, I haven't read your blog in a bit, zipped through it, and it sure seems that you're doing a good job of trying to take care of yourself (says the gal who was told repeatedly by her mental health professional to try and do the same while it felt the world kept raining down on her--but without her noticing, until everything came crashing down around her). And if I need self-care, with no kids but a batty family nonetheless, then I know you do too. It is such a good thing, and I'm glad you're doing that for yourself. There's a slight difference between what you'd like to do and what is happening, and I suspect that is where the angst lies.
Third, the toughest kid is also the most fun in the whole family. My brother Tim is an example, and I suspect your sister would have something to say about, **ahem**, a sibling of hers that will remain nameless for the purposes of anonymity...:) Just wait 'til those road trip vacations when he can really talk. And harass his big sister, who will complain but years later will cherish those times.
Fourth, E, you can do this. You can. You can! You can, in part, because you already are doing it. This is it! You know, I got on the blog bc I miss you and know it means a lot when we read your blog, bc it's your support. And for me, it's all the good stuff about having kids. Instead, it was a low point at parenting, and despite that, all I see and hear is the good in it. All I hear is what you've told me all along: things even out with the family past, Katie made you more patient not less, all the moments you treasure. Those are all there, underneath, and even I can see them, and you know I've not been in the frame of mind that's positive about family life. You cannot fool me for a second! :) You oughtta look at the emails you've sent me about parenting when I am scared and weary of my family and of myself. And of course look into the eyes of your children. Or perhaps in these rough times, observe them while they're sleeping when they're sure to be doing no wrong--:)
Love you lots and miss you!!
All I can say is you have so many friends who love you and will support you. I can not imagine you're grief and would give anything to be able to make it better.
I haven't seen you in ages, but I love you like we were sitting next to each other at work!
B
Elizabeth,
THANK YOU for this post! It's rough raising kids without moms to vent to. I feel your pain. But I also feel your hope in the midst of it, so thank you for this encouragement. So you mean that Jackson isn't the quiet pensive angel that I saw at Windsor? :)
Elizabeth,
I'm so sorry for your grief. Sometimes I think that those imaginary conversations with the people we've loved and temporarily lost are more real than we know. I'm sure those are exactly the things your mom would be saying/is saying to your heart right now.
And boy don't I know all about the feelings of frustration and doubt you were expressing.
My son says he likes school because everyday they get to start back on green for their color chart. They change colors for poor decisions, but even if they made it all the way to red on one day...the next day they start on green.
As a mom, I've started envisioning my name on a clothespin on the green part of the chart each morning. A lot of daysI feel like I've surpassed red and gone straight to deep dark over-the-top red. But each day I start on green, and that's a gift.
Lots of love and hugs your way!
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