Great Expectations

September 01, 2009



Yesterday, I was driving in the car with my college roommate who is visiting from New York. Now that we both have two kids, it is very rare for us to have an adult moment to talk about something other than tantrums, preschools or the latest "friend" from college to have surfaced on F-book. There's not much time for substance. So I was taken aback when she sighed heavily and said, "I am not the mother I expected to be." It was so honest, so vulnerable, so relatable. And I knew exactly what she meant. Her comment stayed with me all day like a bad headache that just wouldn't go away. At first, I felt sad. Then I tried to figure out where it all seemed to go wrong for me. Why wasn't I able to be the mom who rarely lost her cool? When did I start having to yell just to get us all out of the house in the morning? Why were there so many times I just wanted to walk out of the house and be alone without anyone tugging at my clothes or asking me repetitive questions? I thought about all of this for a long time and actually came up with an answer. It happened when I went from one to two.

I am not saying everything was happy and perfect with a single child. I was sleep deprived, impatient and often a nervous nellie. But as my son grew out of the baby stage, I was, in fact, almost the kind of mother I imagined or wanted to be. I hosted tons of playdates and planned lots of fun-filled museum/park/beach days. I read all the time with my son snuggled in his bed day and night. We cooked together. We played board games and worked on puzzles. We spent hours making train tracks and then testing them out with our coveted battery-charged Percy. Most of all, we laughed a lot. And when we weren't together, I had time for myself either working or reading or even seeing a movie by myself (my ultimate luxury). I even had time for my husband and my eyebrows were always waxed.

But being double teamed has certainly rocked my world. Time is at a premium. I hate that I don't have the same amount of energy and time that I did when I only had one. I feel like my family is always rushing. Getting the three of us ready in the morning puts me in a sweat. The car rides are now filled with shouting and fighting and phone calls because it's the only time I can actually make appointments or call people back. We are heavily scheduled with activities (which I limit to one per child). With practices and games and birthday parties, it feels like we are on a treadmill.

I love my youngest more than I thought possible. She's my only daughter and I relish our time alone because it is so infrequent and so different than with my son. I am happy I made the choice to have siblings as that is one of the most valuable and enjoyable relationships in my own life. And I glimpse that with my two every so often between the fighting when my son takes my daughter's hand and helps her climb something at the park or puts his underwear on his head in the hopes of making her giggle.

When I am one on one with either child, I feel like I'm doing okay. I can see the vision I once had of myself as a mother and I'm pretty close to the image. But when it's two on one, I feel like I am short-changing both of them. I can't fully help my son with his reading. I can't play dollhouse with believable interest and energy. So, I end up feeling torn, frustrated and ultimately, not at all like the mother I thought I would be.

I know the supportive mothers out there will say that I have to drop the great expectations of the mother I imagined and re-imagine myself in the reality that is my life. I tell myself that some days. But I also know I can do better. I can raise my voice less, not care about the legos all over the floor and feed the damn guinea pig without reminding my children that it's supposed to be their job. Basically, I can loosen up. But I'm still not sure that would be enough to bring me back to the joyful mother of one-child past.

I often wonder about the moms who seem to do just fine with being outnumbered. I've seen you at the grocery store, the park and in the carpool line. What goes on in the witching hours of your homes? Of course, I like to think there are meltdowns and tantrums. But maybe not. At the risk of being vulnerable and checking my ego at the keyboard, I'll admit I'd love advice. How do you do it with two? (I know a lot of you do it with more than two but I know my limits...)

I want to bring the laughter back into my house especially before the invasion of homework next week.