One Champion Bad Mother

Mother’s Day, Schmother’s Day. I have dreamed of being a mom all my life. I used to stuff a variety of things under my shirt—pillows, soccer balls, wadded up clothes--pretending I was pregnant. Dolls didn’t interest me, which should have set off alarm bells. IRL I was very good at being pregnant, but I’m mediocre at best with babies and small children. Thank goodness that stage only lasts a few years.

My very first Mother’s Day was in 1997 and I was giddy with excitement! Albert and I joined my parents and his parents for a fancy brunch buffet at what is now the Santa Barbara Beachfront Hilton Resort. Back then it was called Fess Parker’s Red Lion Inn. Despite the corny name, we enjoyed a spectacular spread, and I felt very special. Being six months pregnant, I also ate approximately five hundred dollars worth of chocolate covered strawberries.

But after that golden year, I have recognized Mother’s Day for the RIP-OFF “holiday” that it is! Whose idea was this?? You see, the following year, Alex was a 9-month old baby. I did not know this at the time, but I was ALSO one month pregnant with Chris. Since going out to eat is super stressful with a wiggly infant, I thought it would be a great idea to host a brunch at our house. ROOKIE PARENT MISTAKE. You see, I grew up watching my mom host large, elaborate parties for all to enjoy. I thought this was a thing that moms do. It didn’t take long for me to discover that not all moms are cut from the same cloth.

My VERY BEST Mother’s Day present was around 2008 when Albert took us all to the Edgefield McMenamin’s for Mother’s Day brunch. After we ate, he took the kids to see a movie and to play Frisbee golf while I…..BY MYSELF…..got a massage and had a glass of wine while reading through their Ghost Journal. Yes, this is really a thing! That place is totally haunted, and guests and staff wrote about their experiences in a Ghost Journal you can check out at the front desk. There were stories about levitating condiments, mysterious self-opening doors, sheets being pulled off beds in the middle of the night, spontaneous whiffs of lavender perfume. I LOVE that kind of spooky! Know what kind of spooky I DON’T love? Murder Hornets.

As my kids got older, we all felt social and commercial pressure. “What do you want for Mother’s Day?” Moms want to be appreciated, but it seems phony to get so much attention on one single day that is determined by…..who chooses the day?? Because some Mother’s Days, I am Grummmmm-PEE and not in any kinda mood to celebrate my family! I want my family to think about me sometimes, but not necessarily on a day dictated by society. I want my kids to remember that I love them so, so much. I also want my kids not to fight with me or Albert or each other. Is that too much to ask? OK, yes, I know that it definitely is. So how about we call the whole thing off?

A little bit of these mixed feelings come from guilt. In the words of Freddie Mercury, “and bad mistakes. I’ve made a few.” We all do our best with what we know, so I don’t beat myself up over decisions of the past. However, I do think about how I’d do things differently if I had a chance to start over.

I would definitely CTFD a whole lot more. One day, I screamed at my children so much that my throat hurt. Not my proudest parenting season. I might not have insisted that my kids start preschool at three years old, leaving them crying every morning. I definitely wouldn’t have insisted that they finish homework in kindergarten and first grade. Know how much it matters that Alex finished coloring that GIANT banana? Zero. But the fricking HOUR of time it took will never be recovered. And what damage developed over the years from the frustration and resentment that was generated? I could have done better.

I might have allowed more time for just hanging out and scheduled fewer activities. I definitely wouldn’t have fed them so many fruit snacks and juice and hot dogs. They might have been legit Avengers by now if not for all the garbage I allowed them to eat.

I would have taken more time to feel grateful for my healthy, beautiful, perfect children and wasted less energy picking on their faults. I wish I had known how to communicate more authentically back then; it would have spared our family a lot of misunderstandings and resentment. I would have imagined all their noisiness and unpredictable, weird behaviors as unique gifts that they will develop and bring into their futures. I might not have been so scared if I knew how wonderful they would turn out.

COVID19 has presented some rare opportunities. My gym is closed, so I’m not seeing friends and being exer-tained in fitness classes with dynamic music and encouraging instructors. Instead, I spend hours walking in the quiet with all my thoughts.

In the sunshine of this past Mother’s Day, I considered many of the mistakes I’d made, and I cried just a little. Because look how great my kids are turning out! How Albert and I learned to work together over the years. How our kids have shaped and challenged us to be better humans. Now they’re grown up. They are living on their own and finding their successes.

Except NOT. Thanks, COVID19.

Maybe this is the chance I’ve been waiting for to make better and different choices. When they’re noisy and all in my space, I will appreciate that they want to be near me rather than shooing them away. When they ask me to bring them a drink, I will find joy in serving my family rather than asking, “What’s the matter? Is your legs broke?” Same when they ask where is the (item that is TWO INCHES FROM THEIR FACE). When they express their cringey opinions, I will embrace the opportunity to know more about their ideas and keep my boring, old lady life lessons to myself.

I can hardly wait to see what they will do with their lives. Knowing that they are going to be more than fine is allowing me to release a lot of parenting guilt and fears. "But it’s been no bed of roses. No pleasure cruise. I consider it a challenge before the whole human race, and I ain’t gonna lose."

I hope your Mother’s Day didn’t suck. Thanks for reading!