When people talk about young, single mothers, I think something along the lines of ' I do not think that word means what you think it means '; the hot button words attached to young single motherhood are adjectives like stressed, exhausted, overwhelmed and immature. I had my son Dakota at 20 years old- unmarried, unattached, and completely unplanned- but my experience ( outside of the first, colicky months ) was one of complete and total rightness. A depth of competence, creativity, patience, love and selflessness that I never knew I possessed was born in me, and I saw our journey together as almost romantic: the two of us began Friday Family Night ( which carries over to this very day with our much expanded family ) took long walks together, had private, inside jokes, visited Borders no less than four times a week for hours at a time, worked through his fits, temper, fears, and talked endlessly about Pokemon, ninjas, night creatures, magnets and skateboarding. I delved into his interests with him, exposed him to film, music and culture that coincided with his interests, bought and read endless books, came up with fun projects for us to do. I made sure that every day held time- at least a half hour of 'floor time' as my mom suggested- that I focused on just him: no chores, no phone, just child led play. And he thrived. He was one of the best behaved, most interesting, thoughtful, charming and wonderful little person any mother could ever hope to love.
Three children and a husband later, I look back on those years with great joy and pride, and some consternation. I am not the mother to these children that I was to that one little boy. As a single mother, I devoted myself to two things: Dakota and my writing. I worked part-time, went to school at night, and kept Dakota with me at work until Kindergarten. As a mother of four, I am a wife in a marriage that at times has been very hard work, but even when our marriage is wonderful and easy for long stretches of time, it is still something that requires- of course- my attention, my devotions, my energy. I am a writer, a serious and life long goal I am also devoted to. I am a full time employee, and take Ever to work with me every day. I also have a larger home to attend to than the days of a one bedroom apartment, and two dogs, and four different children with different interests, personalities, needs and desires. And of course, the largest, most significant change as far as my energies- both spiritual and physical- go, is the addition of Ever. A baby- especially perhaps a baby who is nursing and co-sleeping- is a never ending well of need. I don't sleep through the night- ever. When Ever is teething or sick, I get woken up as many as five or six times a night. I'm exhausted. That's one thing.
I thought I understood when mothers said ' by the time you have your second child, you don't change the baby every hour ' or ' you let them eat off the floor if they're quiet '... but I didn't understand the deeper implications behind these jokes- the trade offs that you make in your ability to mother in order to have a bigger family. Or I need to say: the trade offs that I make. Another person- one who doesn't struggle with anxiety, like I do, or one with a marriage that hasn't had real rough patches, or one who doesn't struggle with endometriosis and hypothyroidism and their related issues like fatigue and migrane- perhaps that person could continue being constantly calm and thoughtful in the face of the most irritating stages of childhood, or coming up with creative solutions to problems like whining, or spending 'special time' ( as we call it ) with each child individually, daily, or continually ensuring their cultural enrichment- but I can't. I work as hard as I possibly can- I really, really do- to be the best me that I can be for my children, but really... she's still not as great as the old me.
I believe that to this day- Dakota is seventeen now- he holds a small, hurt spot in his heart because I married Mr. Curry and had more babies. He's told me You weren't the same after that, Mom, and the tone of his voice and look on his face is what made me pause to think about all this at all. Then I wonder if perhaps, that kind of devotion and focus has it's price, as well. Anne of Green Gables didn't suffer for it- but she was pretend. A made up idea of an only child. I suppose it's pointless speculation, but I'm constantly wondering now how being just good enough is affecting my children.
Our society doesn't allow for good enough, not really- with all the studies and articles and discussions constantly bombarding us with how what we were doing last night at dinnertime is going to put our kids on the therapist couch ten years from now, how we are helicoptor moms or neglectful, how we overstimulate or under challenge- it never ends.
The trade offs of a larger family unit are clear- the expanded ability to foster intimate relationships with various personalities, the shared secrets, joys, failures, the 'always have your back' of siblings, the packness that children enjoy together, the mentoring of the older ones to the littles, more love! Still, the other mother I used to be would be horrified to know though that last weekend Lola stayed up to 2am watching T.V. because I fell asleep with Ever and didn't put her to bed, or that she eats a school lunch every Friday instead of home made, or that I can't remember the last time we had a huge creative mess in the house because it's just so hard with the baby around, or that I snap at the kids sometimes for things I should be calm about, or that sometimes when I'm having alone time with one of them I can't stop fantasizing about a stiff drink, a good book and silence.
I'm always working to improve, but I think this is- for now- as good as it gets. As my Grandmother used to say, That'll have to do.
