I love my kids. No. I looooooooove my kids. And I love doing for my kids. Genuinely. I want them to have it all and experience it all, similar to how most parents feel about their offspring. However, I do so much with them and for them, that I’m beginning to wonder if anything’s even special anymore. Is all of this just a huge double edged sword? My fear is that doing for the children so that they feel enormously loved, lucky and cherished (hoping that an added side effect to this is that they'll have cozy warm memories of their rose colored childhood for the rest of their lives) might only result in the meaning behind it being lost in the excessiveness of it all? Oh, the excess- in toys, in day trips, in play dates, in activities. I cannot help but question if all this attention and adoration being bestowed on the kids will even stay with them. I mean, there’s so much going on all of the time, even I am having trouble recalling it all. (Thank goodness for cameras, to capture the 1,734,882 “memories” that have managed to stay on my computer's hard drive!)
I don't mean to complain. But it's just so over-the-top now. Both of my parents worked, and I've got many memories of entertaining myself with my barbies and baby dolls. I played a lot with my sis, our cousin and a neighborhood friend. Even though we didn't have set up play dates, or tons of fun planned outings and toys, I was by all accounts very happy. And the fact that those things were in moderation, makes them that much more special and memorable.
I love having this time with my kids. I know this may come as a bit of a paradox from pro women’s independence me, but I think a mother’s place is at home raising her kids. At least, for me this is true. I’m well aware of the fact that many women wish they had the benefit of spending the first several years of their children’s lives with them, at home. So I don't want to sound like I'm griping and taking it for granted. I DO love it. And I’m lucky. But man is it hectic! The demands are never ending, and because there’s no outside work, I live with perpetual guilt that I’m not doing enough, or performing this mom gig perfectly. Yes, I'm aware there is no such thing as perfect. Which makes it all even crazier….
And though I know that I do a whole lot more with the kids than I ever remember my parents doing with me, still I suffer from “GMG Syndrome”; the relatively new Guilty Mama Generation Syndrome, as I call it. Where I feel so guilty and depriving if I don’t cater to every request or whim of these demanding little dictators. This is NOT to say that I do. I couldn’t possibly take them to their buddy Jake’s house at the drop of a hat without an invite, buy them each three Halloween costumes because they just can’t make their minds up about which super hero they want to be, or bake them homemade cookies at their immediate request if I don’t have the ingredients in the house. (Yes, all very real, very frequent requisitions.) But still. You get the picture. The requests for this and the desires for that are relentless. I know it’s over-the-top, unnecessary, and that the source from which these requests come from are little people so small that it’s hard as hell for them to see pass their own immediate desires. Duh! Point noted. So, Why. The. Guilt.!? I give them my time, and attention, energy and love all day long, every single day. How come I still question my “score” as a mother? And why do seemingly all of my mommy friends and acquaintances do the same?
We gals tell each other “Give yourself a break! You’re doing great!” We’re quick to respond with the positive quote or cheerful compliment to one another under a distraught facebook mommy post from one of our friends in the same boat as ourselves. Well, that’s just wonderful that we’re all so damn supportive of one another. Regular Positive Pollies, we are! Meanwhile, in the chaotic, toy covered, food stained, homes we reside in on a daily basis with these miniature self obsessed offspring of ours, we’re each big fat fakes. We’re kidding no one… Hello Pot, I’m Kettle.
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