Listen, little girls are the cutest! All the outfits with ruffle booties and the headbands and bows bigger than their heads… I love it! But as a mama of four precious little boys… ahhh a new baby boy stops me in my tracks. My best friend recently welcomed her fifth child which just so happens to be her first boy. My heart filled with happiness as she cried tears of joys telling me that the ultrasound, much to her surprise, revealed she was pregnant with a BOY! The tears began streaming on my end as well. As a boy mom I know a few things about boys… dinosaurs, noise, dirt! I love my mama’s boys, and they have my heart. The way they look at me and smile… ahhh is there anything better? Looking at a little newborn, you are filled with hopes and dreams for their future, the unlimited possibilities. You only think good, happy, positive thoughts. But then, your baby grows into a child, and reality sets in. LIfe is not all rainbows and unicorns, or I guess rainbows and dinosaurs in my case.
I love my boys with everything in me, but boy can they be challenging! All four of them in both similar and different ways. For example, my oldest is the worst eater ever. We did everything by the book with him. We introduced veggies first, followed by fruits. Up until 1.5 years old, he ate anything we put in front of him. Then, it was like a switch flipped, and he stopped eating! Nothing, nada, zip! I tried forcing him to take bites, and that ended terribly. I tried not feeding him anything other then what was served for dinner, and he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming because he was starving. So eventually, I basically gave up and fed him what he liked. The doctors told me to keep offering him a variety of foods, and I did which he continued to refuse. They assured me over and over that it was a phase, and it’s common. But here we are at 5 years old, and the list of foods he will actually eat is very short! So back to the doctor for recommendations we went, and we are trying new tactics with him and having some success slowly, but surely. Parenting is hard, plain and simple. Everyone has their opinions about what you should of done, but here’s the deal… We are all trying our best and just doing what we think and feel is right for our kids. And that’s all we really can do.
So fresh in my mind is my nightmare from last night reminding me of that very fact that parenting is hard. One of my biggest struggles is the fact that my two oldest are both painfully shy. They do not talk much to people outside of our family and core group of friends. They go to Sunday School at church weekly, and I pick them up and hear, “They are so sweet and well behaved. They barely said a word.” As a mom, this honestly breaks my heart. I know they are who they are, and I love who they are. I know they are shy and that’s ok, but I just wish the world could see their fun personalities that I see and love everyday. But that’s just not the case…
So back to last night… I signed my oldest two up for swim lessons because they need to learn and get more comfortable in the water. We spend a lot of time swimming in the summer, and our new home has a pond so it’s a very big necessity that they at least know the basics. I know my kids. I knew this wouldn’t be an easy feat. But my oldest has been going to preschool all year long and hasn’t cried even once at drop off. His teacher said that he’s coming out of his shell and talking more and more. I see his face light up when we walk into his class, and the other kids run over to say hi. We’ve made some BIG progress so I thought how bad could swim lessons be? Not a big deal, right? Wrong! Wrong! And wrong again!
My husband and I had been preparing them for weeks about these upcoming lessons mentioning it here and there. Telling them they would have a teacher, and it would be fun. We talked about a few things they might do in the water. On the way there, we even practiced asking them questions the teacher might ask and having them answer. When I say we tried, I mean it… we tried!
So here comes the big moment, we get there, swim trunks on, anxiously waiting for our class to begin. My second oldest has already informed me repeatedly, he is not doing swim lessons, and he is not getting in the water. So I’m expecting him to not do much, but at least he’ll watch his older brother. The oldest on the other hand is thrilled and talking a big game. As the time gets closer, I see there are only two other kids in their group. This is perfect, I think, a small group, the instructor is nice and super friendly. The time finally comes when it’s their turn for lessons. They are simply supposed to sit on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water. I can see the anxiety creeping all over their faces. And can you guess what happens? Tears! Lots and lots and lots of tears. Neither of them will get it. I’m holding the baby, the 2 year old is bouncing back and forth between my husband and I wanting to get in the pool, but the two who are actually supposed to get in the water are both crying. We are coaxing and trying to remain calm, all while keeping the other two happy and content. By this point, I’m sweating profusely. It’s already hot in there, I have a long sleeve shirt on, I am trying to wrangle two littles, watching the two bigs refuse to do anything, and feeling the weight of everyone’s stares. It was awful!
On the outside, I am smiling. On the inside, it’s a different story. My heart is tight, and I am crushed. Why oh why can’t my children ever just go with the flow?! Why is every little thing such a big deal?! Why do I not know how to prepare them for this type of stuff?! What am I doing wrong?! Then, I begin to spiral down the rabbit hole. My oldest won’t eat food, my second oldest is still having “accidents” even though he is fully capable of using the bathroom, he also keeps hitting his younger brother, the 2 year old is hard to understand and doesn’t enunciate when he talks, he also has the biggest ‘tude, and tells me no all the time…. Why oh why?! But hey, a small win, as of now, the baby is pretty good. But overall, I am clearly failing at this whole mom thing. But as I sit there beating myself up… on the outside, to the world around, I still appear cool, calm, and collected.
So what happens at the swimming lessons… not much. With ten minutes left, they finally with some “help” from my husband sit on the edge of the pool with their feet in the water, but far away from the other kids in their group. They have stopped crying though and are kind of, sort of smiling. This is a small victory I think. The teacher makes an effort to talk to them, and they somewhat respond. Then, it’s time to go and the agganizing forever, ok half hour, has ended. And the tears come again and even harder this time because they didn’t get to go swimming. Are you kidding me? I go change them back to their clothes through the tears with the explanation that maybe next time they should go in the water when they are supposed to. But then I stop and think, wait what’s the right way to handle this? I eventually say that I am sorry you are upset, but you chose not to participate and class is over. I tell them I am proud that they did sit and put their feet in the water. And I truly mean that. For them, it really is all about those little things. To them, they are very big things. I tell them that they weren’t even scared, and once they did it, they had fun. I tell them that I know the next lesson will be better. But in my head, I am already dreading next week. In my heart, I am sad. I am sad that they are so shy that new situations give them such high anxiety resulting in tears. I am sad that I feel sad. Does that even make sense? I am sad that I cannot be better at accepting them for who they are. I am sad that I don’t know what to do to help them. I am sad that I don’t have all the answers. I am sad that I am apologizing to the swim instructor and explaining that they are just shy and will get used to it. I am sad that despite how much I try this will continue to be my life for years to come.
So while my friend is thrilled about her new baby boy, as am I, my heart also goes out to her and moms everywhere. Because we all want the world for our babies. New babies bring a vision of a perfect life with happy kids. And that just isn’t always the case. I am trying to remember that while we are struggling with parenting, the kids are struggling to figure life out as well. It may be hard for me to watch my boys be painfully shy and struggle through new situations, but really it isn’t about me. It’s about them. It’s hard for them too. We are doing the best we can, and so are they. If putting their feet in the water far away from the group was all they could manage, so be it, damn it. I am proud that they made some progress, although it may be small. I am going to choose to love, accept, and celebrate my boys for who they are. I am going to try anyway… and pray that I have the strength to do just that.
Sometimes being a parent is just that hard. My husband and I took a parenting class a few months ago. I listened, I took notes, and I waited for the magical answer to everything. Turns out, there isn’t one. I remember asking something and the leader said, “You are not doing anything wrong. Parenting is just that hard.” What a breath of fresh air that is to hear.
So dear sweet mama, whatever you and your kids are struggling with… a picky eater, a shy kid, an impulsive kid, or the million other things that it could possibly be, just know that some other parent is struggling with the same exact thing. Despite how alone you feel, you are absolutely not. And please, please, please remember… You are not doing anything wrong. Parenting is just that hard.
Motherhood & Me 