10.10.2005

I would like to write about unspeakable things today. Since I am writing and not talking, they will remain unspoken, but at least they'll be out there. I am unleashing these beasts on the assumption that I am not the worst mother in the world, and that there are plenty of other women out there who have felt/acted the same way some time during the tenuous fourth trimester. I would hazard to guess that these realities are not only unspoken, but, like the pain of childbirth, soon forgotten. It does no good to dwell on the inconveniences or the blatantly bad times. If those memories stayed on the front burner, nobody would want to get close enough to the stove to put another bun in the oven. But it's important to know that being a new mother isn't all goo-goo-ga-gas and gummy smiles. In the sisterhood of mothers, anything goes. So, I admit:

--I've let my daughter "cry it out" for as long as an hour at a time when everybody knows that caring mothers aren't supposed to be able to tolerate a baby's cry (and even the cruel & unusual Dr. Ferber doesn't advocate such things before the baby reaches 5 months of age)

--I've accidentally knocked into doorjambs, staircases and various other immobile objects with her head

--I've imbibed three glasses of wine and have gone on to breastfeed the baby

--I let her sit in her swing or lay on her play mat while I surf the Internet

--I don't always eat breakfast. Or lunch. Or sometimes both.

--I've left her with my husband, parents or in-laws on several occasions and had no trouble whatsoever doing it

The perfect mothers out there will probably hate me, but hopefully the rest of you will understand and, maybe, realize that your own moments of imperfect parenting are par for the hazard-filled course.

3 Comments:

Blogger Jene said...

i think what you are experiencing is reality.

3:46 PM  
Blogger hey mama said...

coming at you from 14 months in, i could add a few more:

- letting him chew on the remote to stop the ceaseless whining

- setting him on the living room rug and walking
away and letting him scream until i got hold of my temper

- picking food up off the not-too-clean floor, plucking off the cat fur, and feeding it to him

- and letting him make an unholy mess with his new blocks, relatively unsupervised, while i type this....

unspeakable things happen. thanks for sharing yours....

ps - i am adopting the term "milk diapers". awesome.

4:54 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I have done EVERY SINGLE one of those things and more. It makes me sick to my stomach that there is this invisible norm of motherhood making us pretend that it's all sunshine and roses and that the baby's stuff don't stink... Also LMAO at the milk diapers. :)
Kate (from the nest)

10:00 PM  

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