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The Mother I Never Expected to Be
As a parent, the reality of motherhood can often starkly contrast the ideal image we hold in our minds. This realization struck me yesterday morning when my toddler, Max, was throwing a tantrum on the floor, upset because I refused to let him play in the toilet again. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and I could see how deeply my decision affected him.
Amidst his distress, I found myself perched on the closed toilet lid, unable to suppress my laughter. It was early, pre-coffee, and the absurdity of the situation struck me as funny. What else could I do when faced with a meltdown over bathroom water? As Max sent his cries out into the universe, I stood up to grab a towel to clean his hands.
Then, a reflection in the mirror caught my eye. Who was that? There she was, the idealized version of me, with perfectly styled hair and a polished appearance. She looked down at me with a disapproving finger wag.
Oh no! It’s…The Mother I Thought I Would Be! I had encountered her before, most recently while ordering fast food. As I adjusted my rearview mirror, her judgmental gaze met mine, criticizing my choice of fries over healthier options. I felt paralyzed by insecurity, unable to act. When the server handed me my order, I impulsively tossed it in the trash moments later, trying to escape the weight of her expectations.
I can’t place the blame on social media influencers or even my own mother, who is incredibly supportive. Instead, my feelings stem from an internal struggle, a fear that I’m not measuring up as a mother. I worry that Max is missing out on experiences because I’m not the perfect parent I envisioned.
The mother I imagined would redirect his attention to educational activities, like playing with water in the sink instead of the toilet. She would create enriching moments, giggling as she cleaned up the mess and moved on to the next engaging task. Yet, I often find myself overwhelmed, unable to keep pace with that ideal.
In truth, I can’t stand that version of motherhood. I detest the rigidity of her schedule and the utopian standards she seems to uphold. I often find myself searching for my iron among piles of clothes or tossing my partner’s dress shirts in the dryer without a second thought.
As I watch Max roll around on the bathroom tiles, expressing his frustration, I realize that he also isn’t the child I envisioned. But when I scoop him up and wipe his hands clean, I see his sparkly, green eyes and can’t help but giggle.
Yes, we both have some rough edges, but somehow we fit together perfectly.
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In summary, motherhood often diverges from our expectations, revealing the unpredictable and sometimes humorous reality of parenting. Embracing our imperfections and the unique qualities of our children can lead to a fulfilling journey of growth and connection.