hello. i am that mom.

Seth Godin, Linchpen

Seth Godin, Linchpin

Hello. I am that mom who likens going to baby birthday parties to entering an alternate reality.

I have only been to two birthday parties thrown for one-year olds so far, and in both instances I have found the celebratory gatherings to be eerie and awkward. Perhaps I’m jumping to conclusions and unnecessarily categorizing all baby birthday parties when it may just be the ones I’ve attended. That said; let me share why I feel that I stepped into the twilight zone not once, but twice.

I’m amongst a group of friends who are split 60/40 between those with kids versus those without. As we parents are aware, there is a seismic shift that occurs once someone transitions into parenthood. The changes are abundant and mind-boggling affecting every area of one’s existence (whether one might think so or not). And once a group of parents are huddled together in a confined space, the dynamic of that gathering is heavily affected by the interactions and needs of your child. Try as you might to hold a civilized adult conversation, it is simply the truth that when you are accompanying your young child to a birthday party your attention is inevitably split.

And while other parents are sympathetic to your plight (they have to be, they’re in the same boat), non-parents or rather those with limited experience with kids are simply dumbfounded and slightly fearful by the tornado that often follows a toddler. Take for instance the cries of an unhappy baby. Parents usually react with a sigh of compassion and understanding while non-parents look on with fear and bewilderment.

Parents to young children 0-3 years old are especially laser focused on their kids, which makes the party feel like a gathering of several small tribes rather than a singular celebration. At both parties, I witnessed clear factions of toddler-focused tribes that rarely interacted with each other. Each group had a designated camp that was marked by an interesting array of baby bags and strollers. Each tribe usually consisted of at least 1 child but usually 2 or 3 as well as the token non-parental. I observed that most parents were either exhausted by feeding their tiny ones or nervous about whether their kiddos were enjoying the party and/or interacting well with the other little ones.  The non-parents were usually sidelined still attempting to maintain a conversation with their distracted friends.

People compare how different kids behave and interact whether you’re a parent or not. There was one phenomenon that I noticed many times of which I myself have also been guilty of many times. The seemingly nonchalant kid comparison probe is a technique employed by nearly all parents to assess how your kid is doing versus other kids. Even if you don’t mean to compare your child to others, it’s human nature to subconsciously scope out other kids to see if they are well-behaved and conversely to assure you that your child isn’t the worst of the bunch.

In moments of extreme distress like when your toddler is throwing a tantrum however, one immediately scans the perimeters in the hopes that there might be another family that is having a tougher time than you are. It’s sad but true that misery sometimes loves company, and in this particular situation witnessing another family struggling to get a handle on their uncooperative or highly spirited child brings upon a feeling of belonging, like you’re not the only one going through a super crumby situation.  On top of that, having two mutually exclusive meltdowns from different tribes splits the attention of the party so that not every single judgmental glare is aimed squarely at you.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Dale Carnegie; How to Win Friends and Influence People

Hello. I am that mom who just recently learned that her child could now cry at octaves that may shatter glass and break through sound barriers. People have always commented on how lucky I am to have a kid that cries somber baritone tears as opposed to the sometimes-oppressive cries of those children gifted with screams that pierce even the sturdiest of canine eardrums.

I fear that those days are gone, as I stood dumbfounded by this newest of revelations on this very night. Running amuck as my son entered his most epic meltdown to date, his once sad though sweet cries quickly morphed into a sound that I can only describe as what I’d assume an angry pterodactyl in anguish might make.  As I stood there trying to comfort and contain my son’s obvious displeasure with life, it dawned on me that this was yet another new change that I now must learn to contend with.

Stephen Covey, 7 Habits of Highly Effective People

A dear friend

Hello. I am that mom who woke up this morning and didn’t want to get out of bed. Some days are harder than others, and for whatever reason today is one of those days. There’s no one thing that happened. In fact, over the past several months my son has been on balance a delightful little toddler, which we parents know is no small thing.

Maybe it’s the combination of my taxing work load, the rigors of motherhood and marriage, and trying to maintain a semblance of self that is leading me to feel so disheveled and in disarray. It is an unusually busy time at work with several big projects coming to a head. Add to that the relentless demands of motherhood and the fact that I’ve rarely had a moment of free time (and I mean truly free time where you can just sit and not have to plan or figure something out), I think I’m just feeling a bit run-down and exhausted.

As we’re nearing my son’s second birthday, I am finding that while there is tremendous joy in watching my Tasmanian devil grow, there is a also a real cumulative exhaustive effect of parenthood that never seems to dissipate.

As I’ve made very clear in my other posts, I realize just how blessed I am to have an incredibly supportive husband who happens to be a stronger parent than I on many fronts. These days I fear that the pendulum is swinging further out of balance as he’s had to overcompensate for my wary state on more occasions than one. I am also very fortunate to be surrounded by a village of people who love on my son so fiercely that when in their presence my husband and I can let go…for a few moments. And though it’s demanding, my career provides immense fulfillment that it often serves as my sanity and escape when I have especially tough mommy moments.

Still, despite all these many blessings not the least of which is a healthy happy child I feel tired and frazzled. The cumulative exhaustive effect of parenthood; the every day grind of catering to a defenseless though adorable tiny human coupled with the insane volume of decisions that have to be made at each parenthood juncture is taking its toll.

As a side note on decision fatigue, I have never thought of myself as indecisive or overly analytical. Yet in the game of parenthood I have found that there is always a choice to be made. No matter how insignificant it might seem, there is always a question to be thought through.

‘What should we feed the baby? What kind of vegetable and protein? Will he really like that? What if he doesn’t eat? How should I dress him for the park given the weather conditions? Where’s the sunscreen? How many snacks should I pack? Apple juice or orange juice? Did I pack enough diapers? What if he misses his nap?’ You get the idea.

I realize that this might sound like one major rant session. And in a way it is. It is cathartic to say these things and to let some of the anxiety and built up pressure go. Perhaps most importantly, this is my way of working through my feelings of angst and frustration as authentically and productively as I know how. In fact, as I near the end of this rant, I am feeling a bit more renewed, like the clouds are drifting away to reveal a bit more clarity and calm.

Rather than curling up in a ball and hiding under the covers, which is what I wanted to do before I started writing, I now feel like I can breath a little better. Though I’m not totally cured, I’m making progress. Most importantly, when I write these things down I start to feel gratitude for all the things in my life that aren’t driving me crazy, and I even appreciate some of those things that do.

One of these days I will be able to sleep a restful nights sleep again, and one of these days I will be able to have a date night with my husband that doesn’t include an early bird dinner at 4pm or shoveling our meals down in hunger or haste. One of these days all of this will happen. And I’m sure that though I’ll be thankful for that day to come, I will also wish for these frustrating days again when my toddler wants and desperately needs mama.

I realize that these early days of parenthood, these formative early years are flying by. I am all too aware as I look at his baby pictures from even just a few months ago and can hardly recognize the cherubic chunkster as he’s since run off all his baby fat. It’s happening all too fast.

Parenthood is such a contradiction. It’s a grind. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s also the most rewarding. Today is a harder day, and that’s okay. What’s important is that I try my best and learn from my struggles (trust me, there’s a lot to learn).

I used to have this tendency to over book my calendar, to my husband’s dismay. I’m not sure why I did it since many of the commitments didn’t necessarily spark joy for me. Perhaps it was the immaturity of my younger years where I reaped false self-worth from being so “in-demand”. 

But my husband finally drove this point home. When I say ‘yes’ to others, especially when it doesn’t excite me to say ‘yes’, I’m effectively saying ‘no’ to spending quality time with him or doing things that I truly enjoy.

Leo Rosten

Stephen Covey

With the complexities of life and the mere struggle to do the best you can day in and day out, it’s difficult not to get lost in all the minutiae. But if you start with the end in mind, you’ll always have a north star to guide your journey.