As I sit down at the desk, I hear my husband ask our son "hey, whaddya have?" I imagine Carson (17 months) is running around in his living-room play area, obviously chewing on something. This happens often. My stepdaughter says, "is that a Cheerio? Gross...how old is it?" And my husband replies casually, "it's better than a dog kibble...sometimes he eats the dog kibble."
I laugh to myself. Because it's true. Sometimes he eats dog kibble. And it won't kill him.
The adventure of parenting is a lot like going on vacation to a remote tropical paradise -- it's everything you've ever dreamed of and yet you're scared to death of what could go wrong. New parent panic is epic. What if she rolls under her crib bumper and suffocates? What if he chokes on the wheel from a toy car? What superbug will she catch at daycare? Will his required immunizations cause autism? Does he get enough sleep? Does she drink too much juice?
Enough already.
As a mother, I am sure parenting is the most important job I've ever had. I love my son more than I ever knew I could love someone. From the moment they placed his slippery body on my chest in the delivery room, I felt an overwhelming responsibility for his welfare. As soon as I was allowed, I waddled down the hall from my postpartum room to the infant nursery where he stayed because he was breathing a bit too fast at birth. I curled his tiny fingers around mine and it brought tears to my eyes.
When I was expecting, I read a book entitled "Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety" by Judith Warner. Her sociological portrait of modern motherhood rocked my mommy-to-be fantasies. Could it really be that modern moms are so overwhelmed and under-supported that the joy is lost? Are moms so intensely competitive with one another that they've lost sight of what really matters?
Perhaps.
Trying to have it all, do it all, be it all, is exhausting. And exhaustion heightens anxiety. Someone once said "it's a mother's job to worry." But although I worry more than I did before I was a mom, I don't buy it.
I'd say it's a mother's job to comfort. It's a mother's job to advocate fiercely. It's a mother's job to see a child's potential and to provide opportunities for growth. It's a mother's job to create a world in which other mothers can do the same.
So I focus on my son's gorgeous smile, his delight in removing 750 Q-tips from their container, and the mac-n-cheese hairdo he created last week that required a post-lunch bath. I can't be weighted down with worries and keep these images in mind simultaneously. It's not possible. The joys of childhood kick the worries of motherhood's butt every time. And that is how it should be.
