When I see my mother friend, the one with ‘the only child’ and the one who has always been satisfied with only one child, I feel sudden waves of envy. I see what might have been. I see where we were, Lauca and I. Since having a second child I have become so impatient, my expectations so much higher, and every age she turns seems like an age where she should be old enough, already.
I was the eldest, I should be better at remembering this. I am starting to think we are getting to the age where things are permanent; her traits are no longer stages she might grow through, but also the mistakes I make as a parent are being committed to her permanent memory. I have less time left to fix things. My mistakes will be able to be recalled years from now, and even if done by accident, they will seem unjust to her as an adult.
So much of parenthood is undoing what was done to us. So much of it is reactionary even when we want very much to be visionary. Who was it said “we mother with the antidotes to our own mothers when what our children really need are the antidotes to us”?
I get torn by the same. Both Bear and Mitts miss out on the type of calm attention we both gave Bear in the early days.
But I am an only child, and I struggled socially in high school, and was, and remain excessively in thrall to the usually-ill-thought-out views of my father in particular. My parents didn’t adjust to me being a teen (or older) and always band together in a dispute. I had too many expectations on my shoulders.
So I am comforted by the knowledge that this decision was not just for us, we thought about the idea of Bear having company, of Mitts being born close enough to an older sibling for the same. And I think that was a good decision.
You just need to make time (I know it’s hard, do what you can) to have that precious 1 on 1 time, both of you, with both kids…
my mum says that her kids having kids is her revenge for all the bitternesses that we have ever harboured towards her. i see how mothering is about constantly doing the best you can under very tight and demanding circumstances. i could source the quote, “to err is human; to forgive – divine” but i’m at work.
i don’t actually have kids yet, but just the experience of having close friends parenting gives me so much compassion for my mum.
i’m thinking you could torture yourself about your “mistakes” and your kids will carry some hurt or blame with them no matter what you do. and then at some point they will grow up and realise that you were doing the best you could, and with great love and sacrifice.
ok this is where my comment turns into a rant but i’m frustrated by phrase that falls so easily from certain friends’ lips, “i’m such a a bad mother because i ” to this i say, go work in child protection so you can really see some properly harmful parenting. and then ease off on yourself.
curiously i haven’t yet heard the phrase “i’m such a bad father because…”
“i’m such a bad father because…”
I feel it sometimes. As reflected on in the previous comment, I worry all the time that things I, as well as ‘we’, are doing might not be for the best.
I’ve done 2 and a half years in child protection and yes it gives perspective. Also being a parent gives perspective back- if I were there now I would be that much more cynical about cases where kids are being placed under protective orders essentially because their parents (or often undersupported single mum) have no support, no money, no taught parenting skills, and are sinking under depression.
We really do expect a sometimes-artificial Gold Standard of ourselves and others. Perhaps accepting that if kids are being fed, and aren’t being abused, and are loved, then their stars are lined up and the rest is icing.
On that note BM, you’ve given L an amazing gift in a little brother. They will probably both be better off for it socially, and have the company of a sibling through thick, thin and hellfire teenage arguments with yourself! In the old days people would ‘pop out’ 9 or 10 kids so those of us having 2 or 3 are hardly depriving each of normal parental attention. Might be sparing them the hothouse I was raised in, though…
…sorry will stop hogging thread. S’just that we share the same issue, right down to order and gender of kidlets!!
But then you wouldn’t have Cormac. Although my eldest shits me sometimes this morning I spent almost two hours talking about him and I was shocked to see what time it was when I finished. I could have sworn it was 20 minutes.
I’m with Janette – it takes a while but you do grow into some perspective. I apologised to my mum once for being such an awful teenager. She laughed and said that all through my teenage years (she was a teacher) she was so happy that I wasn’t as bad as I could have so easily been. She felt that she’d gotten off easy.
There’s coming a day when my mistakes are permanent? Ouch. Though, I see myself in my own children. Especially when they say, “Okayyyyyy??????” or “Got it?” with sharpness in the voice. Oops.
Thanks for sharing your journey. You’re not alone.
This is all ringing very true for me as well. I have a 5 year old and a 2.5 year old and I feel like they have a great little community of their own. So it cuts both ways, yes my youngest has, particularly in the first year or so tagged along with his big sister. So I am conscious of carving out time for him to develop without always being the ‘little brother’. The gains from being one of two outweigh the downsides of lacking enough one on one time – in my family at least.
But honestly, who but ourselves is so hard on us? Becoming a parent is a dramatic way to gain perspective on the way you were parented. It is at times a really tough gig, everyone has their own issues as an individual, as well as a parent. Somewhere in all of that you need to forgive yourself for moments of frustration or distraction. In the big picture know that you’re creating a loving family environment.
The fright of permanent memory kicking in is bitterly funny too.
I know what you mean, and sometimes when Una is away at creche and Fred is home for the day she’ll say wistfully ‘I remember when it was just the three of us” (which reminds me of my sister telling me savagely and often that mum and dad never fought before I was born).
But not only do I see that Fred and Una are part of a community of themselves, I am very aware that I would not like to be solely responsible for my aging parents. I am glad I have a sister and half brother to share even the fretting with.
On another note, I have a very clear recollection of a *reset* when I was 18. I was working in a childcare centre and I guess it suddenly occurred to me how much my mum sacrificed to have kids (and she didn’t want me, the second child. I know because in her imperfect moments she told me, in much the same tone as my sister above). But suddenly I saw her as fallible and human and doing the best she could, and I could live with that. Our children will hopefully come to that realisation too, and I do think there is more love (or expression of love) in my household than there was in the house I grew up in.
We only have to do a tiny bit better than our parents, and the world will become a better and better place.
I read recently that up to the 60s people had no thought that childhood experiences had a real impact on adult personality.
Now that we are so focussed on this idea that what happens to our kids every day is shaping their futures, it is no wonder we feel stressed about every little decision.
I really don’t think this is just plain old mother guilt going on in me here, I think this is a bigger sense of not living up to the parent I want to be, at times.
Similar feelings here as well. Even before Ira was born I would suddenly freeze and realize that Leigh and I already had established patterns that she would some day come to hate. I don’t think any of us can really be the parents we want to be because the job of parenting is too hard and you have to do it all the time, even when you probably shouldn’t. I think if I only had to parent for about 30 minutes a day I would totally rock it. Also, of course, we can’t see the things we are screwing up — if we could see them we’d probably do something about them.
I can see now that first kids have a really hard time of it. I learned so many lessons with Leigh that have benefited Ira. I watch him more rather than interrupting his play with my own agenda. But I do think both kids have a benefit from each other. Ira loves his sister and her fondest wish is that she get to be his mom too.
Still, I feel badly when I’m frustrated with his crying and lash out at her for trying to ask me a question. I have a daughter who really craves rules and structure, so it’s not that I feel bad when I have to place restrictions on her. Mostly I feel bad when I know our interactions haven’t gone well in large part because I’m having my own temper tantrum. Those are the problems I can see happening in my own parenting but feel powerless to fix.
Wow. This makes me cry. I worry, too, and am having my second child and you have put to words all the things I fear I will lose with my first.
And I’m the adult child of an alcoholic. I an tell you, there are so many things that your Lauca will be able to undo, so many things she have the capacity to forgive you for (whether she decides to or not). But from what you share here it’s hard to believe it would really be much. These normal mistakes and moments of impatience are what teach us how to deal with the world which won’t always be patient with us. And I will always believe a sibling is one of the greatest treasures (not that I think there’s a problem with having only children, but I do feel I’m blessed with my three).
Thank you…I too have been feeling so similarly and feeling alone in those thoughts, so thank you for putting it out there. Oh, the lack of patience – I was such a much better parent to one child than to two.
All we can do our best, in the circumstances we are in.
I worry more about external influences, like bullying, having no friends, choosing the wrong school etc.
But then my mother left our family, so for me just sticking around gets points!
[…] On undoing the done […]
[…] Ron Mueck. A perfect Saturday; just her and I and a whole string of art galleries. (We found our antidote and […]