But what I didn’t do, it turned out, was something that my daughter really wanted, and far more important (as is often the case) than everything I did do. This one missing piece symbolized how much I valued her efforts. And not only that, it turned out to be the gauge for how selfish or loving I am—how willing to inconvenience myself for her or anyone.

Nonetheless, despite the arsenal of guilt coming at me, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt very sad and very angry—but not guilty. The absence of guilt, which has been such a constant in my life as a mom, surprised me and led me to ask myself what was different this time. What had allowed me to hold onto my own worth and good mom status in the face of what could have been a very different and far more complicated experience.

What was different was how I responded to her blame. As soon as I felt it coming at me and the bad mom narrative taking form, I asked myself, “Do I feel genuinely guilty for this choice? Or is this learned guilt—guilt I’m supposed to feel, that’s been assigned to me by my culture and now my family? Have I violated my own values? Have I done something truly unkind?” The answer was “no” on all fronts. This was guilt I’d been conditioned to feel.

I then reminded myself of everything I had done over the last seven months to celebrate and support my child. I acknowledged my own efforts and bowed to myself for being such a good mom. I’d been pausing throughout the months to honor myself, so it was easy to call up. But in navigating this situation, I chose to focus on all the good stuff, what was present, rather than joining my daughter in what was lacking. I refused to be her accomplice in discounting and invisibilizing my goodness and hard work. In the past, I too would have focused on what I didn’t do, but I chose not to do that to myself this time, which was a fundamental shift.

At the same time, I asked myself to name exactly what my crime was. Guilt thrives in vagueness and generality—it’s allergic to specificity and light. Guilt sticks when it’s a wallpaper experience, a background sense that we’ve done something “wrong,” even if we don’t know exactly what it is or why it’s so bad. Guilt then morphs into its more dangerous cousin: shame, the sense that we haven’t just done something bad but that we are bad. But guilt and shame are de-fanged when we name their specific source and hold it up to the light. Guilt and shame can’t survive under the lantern of the truth.

In this case, my crime was departing the event a few minutes early—not sticking it out to the bitter end, but leaving her to come home “alone” with just her sister and best friend. But this was just a top layer, what was my real crime underneath that—what was the meaning attached to that reality? Boiled down, my departure meant that I’d chosen to take care of my own needs—over hers. I’d chosen myself, which, in the storyline, “made” me a selfish and bad mother.

The grand cultural narrative I’d challenged with my choice is this: A good mom never takes care of her own needs over her child’s needs. A good mom has no needs other than making her child happy. A good mom is responsible for her children’s happiness and never disappoints.

At the same time, I went against our culture’s story that a mother should be able to bear any physical or psychological conditions for the sake of her child. She should have no limitations and be super-human when it comes to energy, stamina, and capacity. She should also have no unwanted feelings about sacrificing her needs, and no need for appreciation for her efforts. I had both honored my own needs and demonstrated my limitations and boundaries, both physically and psychologically. Even knowing that my daughter wanted me to be able to stay, I didn’t want to stay, couldn’t stay, and chose not to stay.

After getting clear on the narrative I’d challenged, I flipped the script. I told myself (out loud) that I’m allowed to have my own needs—it doesn’t make me bad or selfish. Secondly, I named the truth, that I’m unable and unwilling to stand out in the cold anymore. I won’t put myself through it; it’s not fair to me. Furthermore, I can’t meet every physical task that’s asked of me. And that’s okay because it’s the truth. Finally, I acknowledged to myself that it’s okay if my child doesn’t get exactly what she wants from me in every way at every moment. It’s okay if she’s disappointed. She and I will both survive her disappointment; she can be disappointed, and I can still be a good mom.

In doing so, I owned my imperfect-ness—or as I would describe it, my perfectly imperfect humanness. So too, I own that I am a mother who is entirely devoted to her child, and will do anything I can for her that doesn’t involve harming or abandoning myself.

I also acknowledged that I’m willing to hold space for my daughter’s sadness and anger, to understand the feelings that my limitations create. I’m willing to make room for her disappointment and empathize with her experience of having a mother with needs that are different from her needs. My heart is open because her disappointment no longer has to mean that I am to blame. I can thus listen and give her the loving attention she needs, which previously had been attached, exclusively, to my willingness to stay on and suffer to the end of her event.

Even if she still buys into the cultural narrative, I don’t have to. I don’t have to and am no longer willing to link my having needs and boundaries—or her disappointment, to my being a bad mom.

This is the shift that we need to make as women and mothers, to remove the story that we’ve learned to assign to our choices. Guilt is the price we’ve paid to get to be a “good mom” in a storyline that’s not only fictional, but false. Questioning the narrative itself, rather than abiding by it and playing by broken rules, is how we remove our Velcro suit and become Teflon to guilt. Furthermore, it’s how we free ourselves and ultimately, change the cultural narratives that keep us imprisoned.

I am limited—and—I am a good mom. This is reality—without any story attached.

The post The Radical Choice: Saying ‘No’ to the Bad Mom Narrative (Part 2) appeared first on Nancy Colier.

Let’s not restate what we know or even regale the deliciousness of mothering, much as I’d love to do that. Rather, let’s examine aspects of motherhood that are less regale-able and the feelings and truths we hide from others and ourselves. So, too, are the relentless expectations around mothering with which we punish ourselves.

A confession: When my kids were young, sometimes I’d tiptoe past their rooms, trying not to be noticed because I couldn’t bear the prospect of another imaginary skit on the floor with the Calico Critters and talking toothbrushes. I frequently dreaded the weekends spent researching and shlepping to arts and crafts fairs, build-a-bears, flower-plantings, and Legolands that nobody wanted to go to or particularly enjoyed but that I felt I had to offer to prove (to myself) that I was a good mom.

Believe it or not, now (and part of me knew it was then.), I felt too guilty not to do it. Interestingly, my husband never felt guilty, not even a little. He was OK with letting the kids do nothing or come up with their activities and most definitely didn’t see it as his job to entertain and engage them. On the other hand, I was convinced that if I didn’t provide at least one and preferably two interesting experiences or excursions each weekend, I was depriving my kids of a great childhood.

We all know that mom who can always find something magical to do with their kids. I had a friend like that when my kids were young. Wherever we went, she created an experience of wonder while I watched on, feeling befuddled and un-motherly.

In the park, she’d skip off with our kids and waft back what seemed like hours later, with everyone giggling madly, adorned in tiaras she’d made of daisies, and acting out mysterious forest adventures. At home, she delighted in playing board games, transforming french fries into Pick-Up-Stix, and, if time allowed, leading the charge to the bowling alley to spend more time together.

As to be expected, “Why can’t you be like Julia’s mom?” was the refrain in my home, to which I felt both righteous in my different-kind-of-mom-ness and, underneath the righteousness, terribly guilty, that I didn’t know how to do that, and that my kids didn’t get to have a mom like Julia’s.

So many women are convinced they should enjoy every moment they get to spend with their kids. The fact that we sometimes don’t enjoy it and don’t look forward to it, or worse, want to spend time with other people besides our kids or be with just ourselves, confirms that we’re selfish, unloving, and un-maternal. We’re choosing our own wants and needs over our kids. It’s either/or, and all roads lead us back to the same conclusion: We’re not good enough as mothers or women.

Watching our kids having fun and seeing their imaginations bloom is a delicious experience. At the same time, our children’s games are age-appropriate and a good fit for their intellectual and emotional development, but not usually for ours.

Still, we remain convinced that we should be fascinated and delighted by every activity involving our children and should be able to meet our emotional and intellectual needs just by participating in their experience. If we’re bored or unsatisfied, then once again, we’re self-involved and too focused on our own needs. And what’s worse, our own age-appropriate boredom is scarring our children and teaching them that they are the ones who are boring.

A day in the house with small children can feel like an iron-woman triathlon. We expect our watch to say 6 p.m. only to discover that it’s 9 a.m., and we still have 10 hours of activities to invent, 10 hours separating us from Netflix or some other kind of anesthesia. Of course, some moms genuinely enjoy hours of designing stickers, making slime, and thinking up homemade science experiments.

But there are also many moms for whom occupying their kids feels painful and exhausting, and they run out of ideas, patience, and energy.

Women struggle with the day-to-day labor of parenting. Yet, they continue to berate themselves for their feelings and assume that entertaining their kids for long stretches of time should come naturally and feel effortless. But why should it be effortless, and why would we enjoy it? Still, moms pretend to love it and delight in the snow days and Mondays off, which may explain why our own sippy cups sometimes smell like Chardonnay.

The truth is, you can love your kids and be a supremely good mother and not enjoy and not be particularly natural at certain aspects of the parenting job. This truth gets swallowed up in historical narratives, cultural mythology, and old beliefs about female virtue and motherhood, which still limit us despite all the societal changes that have occurred for women and shifted our place in the world.

Perhaps, alongside our devotion to our children, we can also allow ourselves to acknowledge that the job of being a mom to young kids is frequently not that interesting. We can stop fighting with and denying the reality of parenting and, instead, own and respect the effort and discipline that goes into mothering, and even celebrate ourselves for being willing to do hard things when we don’t want to and tolerate the boredom and difficulty of it, usually, without going mad.

If we can do this, we’ll feel free to make choices that come from want, not just should. And, we’ll feel kinder towards ourselves and sometimes even more grateful for getting to be a mom. Every minute we stay on the floor with the Calico Critters or do any of the endless difficult things we do, we might consider acknowledging it and bowing to our strength and devotion.

A great mom is not always one who wants to be with her kids around the clock and enjoys every effortless moment, but rather, one who keeps showing up, being present and doing her best to give her kids what they want and need, for as long as she possibly can.

Ultimately, we must trust a deeper truth: Our love for our children is big, wide, and infinite enough to include all of its contents. That said, we need not reduce our worthiness as good mothers to something so infinitesimal as whether we like or don’t like the tasks of the job.

The post Another Long Weekend With the Kids… Oh My! appeared first on Nancy Colier.

-Life management: schooling, homework, tutoring, forms, academic, athletic and social schedules, playdates, activities, camps, birthdays, health care, appointments, child and family travel, holidays, vacations, weekend planning, scheduling, grocery shopping (remembering everyone’s faves) cooking, cleaning, laundry, house repair, date night planning (if still applicable).

-Provide primary connection and emotional glue for all members of family: knowing names and details of who’s who in the children’s lives, who’s being mean and nice, the latest crush, who got the lead in the play, when the next math quiz happens, who needs a tube of glitter for tomorrow’s science project, and all the other infinite events that go on in everyone’s day to day life.

-Serve as that person who makes everyone (else) feel appreciated, seen and known.

Oh, and did I forget, in addition to everything just mentioned (and the infinite things not mentioned), moms usually work full or part time jobs outside the universe that is the home (where children believe moms begin and end).

And finally, in their “free” time, most moms are picking up stuff, putting out fires, answering cries for help, and responding to the unending stream of needs that is the essence of modern mom-hood—all set to the soundtrack of  “can you…would you…will you…”.

What’s most remarkable about the mom job however is, ironically, not the enormity of it. What’s most remarkable is the fact that (from my research) most moms feel unappreciated. Moms from all walks of life describe feeling unacknowledged and unseen for what they do and are for their families. Being a mom these days (and maybe always) seems to be a job that’s taken for granted, thankless for the most part.  It also appears to be unique in that it comes with the expectation that appreciation is not and should not be needed or wanted by the one doing the job.  And in fact, to want or need appreciation as a mom would be self-serving, inappropriate and even shameful.

As a psychotherapist, I talk to women all day about their internal experience, the private experience they don’t usually share with others. Again and again, I hear moms express the deep longing for appreciation, the wish for some acknowledgment from their kids and partner, that they might notice what mom does to make everyone else’s life go well and just plain happen.  As a mom myself, I am remarkably aware of how little appreciation is offered for the amount of effort that being a mom requires, how infrequently gratitudeis expressed for all the important details we attend to. I am also aware that it can feel shameful to admit that I might want my family to occasionally notice and express unprompted appreciation for what I do for each of them individually and also for the family as a whole.  It feels self-indulgent because as moms we’re supposed to be selfless, and certainly not need anything as childish and greedy as appreciation, or at least not want it any day besides mother’s day.

To appreciate something is to value it, be grateful for it, and recognize/acknowledge its importance. As human beings, we all long to be appreciated, to have our goodness seen, our positive intentions and efforts recognized.  We want to be known and valued for what we do that’s helpful.  To want and need appreciation is a primal human longing.

At the same time, kids should experience a time in their life when they get to be fully taken care of without having to be aware of or grateful for anything or anyone, when they’re allowed to be oblivious to the fact that someone is providing for them. There needs to be a totally self-centered period in a child’s life.  And, there needs to be a time when the perfunctory, learned but not yet felt “thank you” is enough for appreciation. It’s not a child’s responsibility to be grateful to her parents for doing their job as parents. And yet, there also comes a time in a child’s life when it is important that she recognize that her parents exist as human beings, that they have feelings, are deserving of appreciation, and are working hard on their children’s behalf. This recognition is an important step in the healthy development from childhood into young adulthood.  Encouraging kids (when they’re ready) to feel empathy and gratitude for parents, not because they have to but because they just do, will ultimately help our children live connected and meaningful lives.

Recently, after a day of doing my job and using every spare minute between clients to arrange travel and other fun activities for my teenage daughter’s summer, and also getting my younger daughter’s medical and thousand other forms sent the different camps she’s in this summer, I disappointingly misspoke, asking my teenager how her French quiz went.  Well, apparently, in my exhaustion and bureaucratic stupor, I got the subject of the quiz wrong and received an icy and supremely agitated, “The quiz was in math.”  That was it, conversation over.  I had to laugh, there wasn’t anything else to do.  Failure, it’s the nature of being a mom.

It’s strange really, our society views things as black or white, either or.  We don’t well tolerate black and white, either and or.  As a mom, my children are the most important part of my life. They bring an ineffable joy and there is no thing or experience for which I could ever be so grateful.  Every day, I am astonished that I get to be a mom to two girls I cherish.  And, simultaneously, I dislike many of the tasks that being a mom involves as they are unpleasant and hard.  It’s an and not a but that separates these two concepts.  Because we want to be consciously appreciated for the incredible work we do, both the work we love and the work we don’t, does not contradict the fact that we choose to be moms and love being moms.  It’s all included…both and.

We live in a society where, at a subtle level, women are still taught that they’re not supposed to want or need anything for themselves, and for certain not appreciation or recognition. It’s bizarre really, wanting to be seen for our efforts is shameful for women and yet it’s inherent in every human being.  There is nothing wrong with wanting to be thanked and noticed for what we offer, it’s a wholesome wanting in fact, and one that when met, encourages us to keep on doing the good we’re doing.

This past mother’s day, I was happily surprised by my husband and kids with a lovely lunch at the restaurant they enjoy and a thought crossed my mind.  As much as I deeply appreciated this gesture, I would have traded a thousand of these lunches for one genuine “thank you.” Perhaps after returning from a 7 pm parent teacher conference on a cold February evening, or after a long day with patients and walking in to find three people, (2 small, 1 big) all waiting for their dinner to be made, or really any other random moment of standard mom-hood.

While it’s odd, it does seem that the simple act of stopping what we’re doing and offering someone a straight, heartfelt “thank you” or “I appreciate you” can, for some, feel too vulnerable, exposed, unnecessary, or even silly.  And yet, these simple moments of genuine appreciation are profoundly meaningful for the recipient, and also for the giver. The moments when appreciation is shared are the moments of connection that fill our emotional well.

Steps:

When you feel unappreciated or unseen, or notice the longing to be thanked, try these steps:

1.   Reject any self-shaming thoughts. Remind yourself that wanting and needing to be appreciated and recognized is normal and healthy, and you deserve it.

2.  Reach out to another mom.  She’ll get it.  Laugh about the fact that your kid hasn’t asked you how you are for years and yet is very good at asking for the credit card.  It’s a fairly universal first world experience for moms.  Get some support and chuckles from those who can fully identify.

3.  Ask for what you want.  Let your partner know, unapologetically, that it feels good to be seen for all that you do and are, and what you offer the family. When he does show appreciation without your asking, express your appreciation for his appreciation.  Appreciation begets appreciation.  If your kids are old enough, nine or ten and above is usually a good starting place, let them know that even mommies have feelings and sometimes need to be given a gold star in the form of a thank you.  It’s not about guilting or shaming them but rather, letting them in on the secret that mommies need things too.  It will help them down the road to be more empathic and grateful.

4.  Offer appreciation.  Appreciation is a form of love and our longing for it is in part a longing for a very particular kind of love.  When you offer it to someone or name it out loud, you’re not only modeling appreciation for your family, but you’re also giving yourself a small dose of the love you need.  It may feel counter-intuitive to give appreciation in the moments when you’re the one needing it (another giving not receiving). And yet, offering it can be a close cousin to receiving it, as it evokes the same feelings of love and warmth that you crave.

5.  Appreciate yourself.  Put your hand on your own heart and, to yourself, recognize all that you do and are.  Remind yourself how good a mom you are and how much you love your children and feel that love out of which all this wonderful effort is born.  Don’t skip the step that is honoring yourself because at the end of the day, only you really know how much you do and how incredible a job you are providing.  So be the one to also take that moment to acknowledge that truth.

How strange, magical, and deserving of appreciation is life;  just as I was finishing this piece, my 7-year-old daughter came into my office with this, “Hey mom, thanks for making me a playdate today and not making go to afterschool.”  Of course I cried, as I usually do when touched, and then I told her how much I appreciated her saying this, and how I hoped that one day she too would be as lucky as me and get to be a mom…because it’s the best job that ever existed.

The post The Invisible Mom: If You Feel Unappreciated as a Mom, You’re Not Alone appeared first on Nancy Colier.