Hello friends and readers,
I recently experienced the death of a tablet when Declan dropped it face down on the rocks and punctured the screen. The children had been using it to play games and watch cartoons, especially at my house because I don’t have a TV, and I’m not going to lie….as a single mom working full time, I definitely felt the loss. In the (stupid early) mornings with my kids, I rely on screens to get us through to a human hour to start our day. I can’t possibly parent for 14 hours a day or more, on my own1, without tools and strategies.
So, recently, for the same price of repairing the screen of the old tablet, I bought two smaller ones for each kid to use—and I couldn’t help but think, “I am that mom.”
Doing the work that I do now in a church with a high population of senior citizens, I’ve had a number of conversations with folks who didn’t raise their children in this era. I’ve felt the acute sense of guilt and shame when this generation is described as being lazy parents, and I am quick to offer a shift in perspective: this generation often needs two working parents to make a home run and is more disconnected from extended family and support systems than ever before. We are exhausted from carrying the mental and physical load that’s required just to survive, and yet we feel like burdens for needing help.
I often remind myself that our generation didn’t invent screens or start the idolization of hyper-individuality in our culture—we inherited these things, and more, from the generations that came before us. Yet, we are being criticized for doing our best to cope with a reality we never asked for. I’m not saying this to push blame back up the pipe; I truly don’t believe that solves anything. What I hope to see is that we learn to process that criticism, for ourselves and every ancestor who felt the deep ache of not being enough, and let it be transformed into something that might actually bring healing.
None of us is getting this parenting thing “right,” and I’m honestly pretty tired of all the messages we are given about what we “should” be doing and how we’re failing. I can’t do it all, and when I try and fail, I end up beating myself up and taking it out on the kids. So, in case you need some solidarity today, here’s all the ways I’m THAT mom:
Both my children have a tablet now
McDonald’s is my survival mode dinner choice, even though I hate admitting that
On Saturdays, my kids kinda do whatever they want for most of the morning
I regularly put myself to bed when the kids are quiet instead of accomplishing stuff
We don’t go outside nearly as much as I’m told we ‘should’
I find it easier to connect with my daughter than my son and worry I’m not trying hard enough
Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed, I wish I could escape the responsibilities of my life
I don’t always trust that my kids will be okay
One thing I have learned to tell myself on the difficult days is that I am a good mom having a bad day, rather than I’m a bad mom that needs to do better. I tell myself that my needs are valid, even if I think I shouldn’t feel a certain way. When it feels like too much and I need to lie down, I am going to give my children screens and lie down, because all of those people out there who would like to judge me? They’d rather speak their opinions from a distance than risk stepping in to help. And the people who are helping are the ones who would never make me feel bad for not being able to handle it all alone.
The truth is there are no parenting rules that can save you from the messy reality that you will struggle, your kids will face challenges, and you won’t always know what the next right step is. We’re all just out here doing our best and making shit up as we go. My only metric for success these days is whether I am finding moments of connection and joy and silliness each day, even if that’s over chicky nuggies and fries or laughing about the stupid (and slightly inappropriate) thing my child said. If love is the goal, do we need to have rules about what’s worthy of being lovable and what isn’t?
I wonder what would happen if we let go of ‘the rules’ and allowed ourselves to simply be with ‘what is’.
I wonder what would happen if we let joy, laughter, and silliness have more space than seriousness and discipline.
I wonder what would happen if we stopped the blame and criticism, in both directions, and came together to do the real, messy work of actually supporting each other.
❤️
How are you “that” mom/dad/caregiver? You know, the one you told yourself you’d never be?
I do have a couple people who watch my kids each week, in addition to school and preschool. It’s still a lot.
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