Arden loves to play with my jewelry. She likes to play with the jewelry of mine she is allowed to play with but she loves to play with the jewelry she is not supposed to play with. I believe that sums up the problem with human nature. She’ll scamper across our bed making her way to my jewelry box saying, “Neck, Brace, Ring!”, and after reminding her to say please, I start to open a drawer when she shouts, “No, No, NO! Mamma, Mamma!” I am immediately on to her and I almost immediately give in to her wishes. I let her try on a ring and she utters her favorite exclamation, “Wow...” sounding like a cross between a stoner and a valley girl. Then, I offer a bracelet which is received with the same wonderment. You can guess what she said next. “More!” I tell her, “That’s it. That’s all the bracelets,” and she shouts, “more, moRE, MORE!!” I busted out laughing. Even when we get a little bit of what we want, we always want more.
I have everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s true. I have a husband who loves me and a healthy, beautiful daughter. Maybe it seems crazy but that’s it. That is all I truly longed for in this life. Of course other things are very important to me like being a good daughter, sister and friend but growing up, as old fashioned as it might sound, I wanted to be a wife and a mother.
So, why is it that I have days like last Wednesday. It was one of the worst days I can recall. I honestly thought I might be going crazy and not in a funny way. I felt like a complete emotional wreck and no, unfortunately I couldn’t blame this on some female thing. This was way past waking up on the wrong side of the bed. It was like I was undergoing some sort of emotional warfare. I was off balance, uncentered and felt out of control which is no way to feel as a mother.
But that’s just it. Judging. I shouldn’t feel out of control. I’m a mother for goodness sake. What kind of mother lets herself lose control... and on and on and on. I had come down with a bad case of the i’m-not-good-enoughs and I was currently on trial. Every whine, fuss, “NO!”, hit, pulling of an animal’s hair, throwing of food after I’ve asked you not to nicely how many times... felt like an addition to the list of accusations. I was on trial as defendant, prosecutor and judge and there seemed no escaping the verdict: You are not a good mom.
Why was I doing this to myself? The answer was revealed to me while reflecting over a mountain of dishes.
Arden was becoming my meaning in life. She wasn’t just a wonderful, good part of my life to treasure, nurture and love, she was defining me. I was taking everything she said or did so personally. I was unforgivingly hard on myself in my mothering of her because if I wasn’t a good mother, I wasn’t anything.
We all long to feel important. To have worth. To be known and accepted and loved. But paradoxically, by placing the weight of my self worth onto being a good mother I was destroying my ability to do the very thing I most longed to do.
We’ve all got to derive our meaning in life from something and it seems safest to place it in something of eternal value. I believe Sting said it best:
“If you love someone. If you LOVE someone. Set them free. Free, free, set them free.”
I have everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s true. I have a husband who loves me and a healthy, beautiful daughter. Maybe it seems crazy but that’s it. That is all I truly longed for in this life. Of course other things are very important to me like being a good daughter, sister and friend but growing up, as old fashioned as it might sound, I wanted to be a wife and a mother.
So, why is it that I have days like last Wednesday. It was one of the worst days I can recall. I honestly thought I might be going crazy and not in a funny way. I felt like a complete emotional wreck and no, unfortunately I couldn’t blame this on some female thing. This was way past waking up on the wrong side of the bed. It was like I was undergoing some sort of emotional warfare. I was off balance, uncentered and felt out of control which is no way to feel as a mother.
But that’s just it. Judging. I shouldn’t feel out of control. I’m a mother for goodness sake. What kind of mother lets herself lose control... and on and on and on. I had come down with a bad case of the i’m-not-good-enoughs and I was currently on trial. Every whine, fuss, “NO!”, hit, pulling of an animal’s hair, throwing of food after I’ve asked you not to nicely how many times... felt like an addition to the list of accusations. I was on trial as defendant, prosecutor and judge and there seemed no escaping the verdict: You are not a good mom.
Why was I doing this to myself? The answer was revealed to me while reflecting over a mountain of dishes.
Arden was becoming my meaning in life. She wasn’t just a wonderful, good part of my life to treasure, nurture and love, she was defining me. I was taking everything she said or did so personally. I was unforgivingly hard on myself in my mothering of her because if I wasn’t a good mother, I wasn’t anything.
We all long to feel important. To have worth. To be known and accepted and loved. But paradoxically, by placing the weight of my self worth onto being a good mother I was destroying my ability to do the very thing I most longed to do.
We’ve all got to derive our meaning in life from something and it seems safest to place it in something of eternal value. I believe Sting said it best:
“If you love someone. If you LOVE someone. Set them free. Free, free, set them free.”
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