Becoming a mom comes easily enough for most of us. You get pregnant and poof, you’re a mother. Being the mom your kids need, however, is not quite so easy. While giving birth to a baby is considered labor, the true labor starts when you bring your baby home and begin the sometimes painful process of mothering.
Writing a book about kids and what they need most in a mom was not an easy task, especially for an imperfect mom. But there were thoughts and ideas I wanted to share, pitfalls I wanted mothers to avoid, stories I wanted to tell … so I set to the task, eager to get it all into my computer.
I’d no sooner started writing when the phone rang. It was my son, David, calling from California—I live in Washington.
“Hi, Mom,” he said with a smile in his voice. “What’s up?” (He starts all his calls that way.)
“Nothing much,” I gave my usual answer.
“I got a new job.”
“Really? That’s good.” I was wishing he were closer to home and maybe going to college. But I didn’t say so.
“How’s Dad?”
“Fine. He’s playing basketball. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
“Well, tell him I said hi … and that I love him.”
“I will.” I paused for a moment. “Dave? I have some good news. I’m writing another book.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It’s called What Kids Need Most in a Mom. Would you write a paragraph or two for me? You know, tell me what you needed most in a mom.”
I suddenly felt embarrassed, shy, and fearful. What if I hadn’t fulfilled his needs? What if he looked at me as a failure? I certainly had my down times—times when I yelled too much or didn’t pay enough attention.
“Sure, Mom.” His warm voice interrupted my phantom fears. “That’s easy. You’re the best mom a guy could have.”
We talked a bit longer and hung up. I was elated. Do you have any idea what it means to hear your grown son say you were the best? Of course you do. My goodness. His comment would lift my spirits for months. And it wasn’t even Mother’s Day.
Even though my son’s words warmed me, I knew they weren’t entirely true. I hadn’t been the best. It wasn’t from lack of trying. But it’s the final analysis that counts. If my son wants to think I’m the best, I’m certainly not going to argue the point.
If I’d Known Then What I Know Now
Almost any mom who’s been around for a while will agree that being a mom is a learning process. By the time we get this business of mothering pretty well figured out, our kids have become adults who don’t think they need to be mothered anymore and who, strangely enough, begin to parent us. Now that I think I know what kids need most in a mom, mine are all grown up and have children of their own.
Even so, they often call asking for advice or encouragement, or just to talk. They talk about dreams and plans, about careers and marriage and having babies. While they don’t need me to nurture them in the way I did when they were younger, they still need a mom.
Pigtails and Super Glue
I met my good friend Linda, mother of three children under six, for lunch one day. I was still euphoric over the phone call from my son.
“How neat,” Linda said. “Your kids always share with you and let you know what’s happening, don’t they?”
I nodded. “About once a week.” Then, remembering a time they weren’t always so thoughtful, I said, “They’re improving with age.”
“I hope my kids will care about me and want my advice when they grow up. But then, you’ve got an edge on parenting, I mean being a nurse and all. That must have helped.”
“I suppose, that and the fact that I could have opened a library with all the pop psychology books I bought on child rearing.”
“How did you do when they were two?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Linda frowned. “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing great as a mom. Other times I feel as if they’d be better off being raised in the jungle by a mama hyena.”
“Well, they’d get a lot of laughs that way.”
“Very funny.”
“Mothering hasn’t been easy for me, either,” I said. “I went through some hard times figuring out the ingredients that go into the making of a mom.” I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table.
“Well, in that case, tell me what you know so I won’t have to learn everything the hard way.”
“You want my life story over lunch?”
“I’m serious. What do you know now that you didn’t know then and wish you had? Did that make sense?”
I laughed. “Yeah. You want me to tell you what I would do differently if I could do it all again. You want me to tell you about my mistakes so you won’t make them. And you want me to tell you about the things that worked so you can try them.”
“Right.”
“Since that would take a bit longer than our lunch break, why don’t I write you a book—I was thinking about doing one anyway.”
“Great idea, but don’t write it just for me. I know a lot of moms who need all the help they can get. You could call it Real Moms Don’t Eat Baby Food.”
“Cute.” I chuckled. “I’ll lay it on my publisher. Did you? Eat baby food, I mean?”
“I’m not telling.”
“Oh, come on … I’ll confess if you do.”
“What, and blow my image? Not a chance.”
Knowing I wasn’t going to get the confession I wanted and understanding her need to save face, I changed the subject. “I think we’re going to title it What Kids Need Most in a Mom.”
“Not bad. Let me know when it comes out. I know a couple dozen moms right now, including me, who could use it. But hurry, will you? This has been one heck of a day. Jeremy needed something different for show-and-tell, so he took my sewing shears and cut off Penny’s pigtails.”
“You’re kidding. What did you do?”
“I swatted his bottom and yelled a lot. Then I cried.
“He patted my arm and said, ‘I’m sorry, Mommy, I won’t do it again.’ I hugged him and said I hoped not. I went to wash my face, and when I came back into the kitchen, Jeremy and Penny were grinning like Cheshire cats. ‘Jay fix it, Mommy,’ Penny said. She turned around to show me. Two lopsided tails hung from her tousled curls, held in place with gobs of Super Glue.”
Practical Help for Moms
Linda was right. There are a lot of mothers who need the practical help and encouragement my book offers. (I certainly could have used a book like this when I was younger.) Oh, and guilt—guilt is like an addiction to so many moms. They need to get it out of their systems. I’ll wean them off guilt and start them on solids like forgiveness and contentment.
I’ll offer time-tested advice and actual case studies from my thirty-five years of firsthand experience. To that, of course, I’ll add the advice my kids gave me. (They were never too shy to tell me when they thought I’d done something wrong.)
Let’s move into part 1 of this book and take a close look at the myths that make a lot of moms feel as if they’re in danger of failing motherhood.