The Nine Rooms of Happiness: Loving Yourself, Finding Your Purpose, and Getting Over Life's Little Imperfections (28 page)

Even if you’re fighting with your kids, tell yourself this is because they know you have to love them no matter what. This is the mother’s dilemma: They feel close enough to you to act their worst, and that’s both secure for them and torturous for you since you think,
We only have these precious hours together, and we’re fighting!

They key is to not blame your sitter or yourself. Doing it all sometimes means thinking of life as a pass/fail course, not grading yourself with less than A-pluses every day. Catherine would say it comes back to Winnicott’s idea of the “good-enough mother” who tries her best and then has to let the rest of it not get to her. Think of all the things you do with your kids and for them, and not the hours you are apart.

A lot of moms worry,
My kids won’t know that I’m the real mother!
You can explain to your child that because you love them so, you helped make sure they are happy, and you love them when you’re with them and when you’re not with them, equally. It’s the love, not the hours, that matters. Many women work two jobs, and have to leave the house early in the morning and not get home until late, and their children still feel the motherly bond.

So here is how Shawn needs to think about her problem: Conflict is okay, but don’t pass it on to your kids. If you resent the sitter, you may be displacing your frustration about your work/home balance onto your babysitter (or your spouse, your mom, or anyone else who gets to see your kids while you’re not able to be with them). Displacement, Catherine explains, can go in any number of directions: Figure out why you’re upset and deal with the source of that emotion. Then walk through your front door and be the best mom you can be while you’re with them. The pearl: Your kids know you love them even when you’re not with them.

Shortly after her son Jack turned two, Kara, an accomplished businesswoman, realized to her horror that she was running his life like a drill sergeant, except without the whistle. “When I got pregnant, I hired someone to manage the travel agency that I’d started. I wanted to have a baby, and I needed to put my baby first and my company second.”

It wasn’t until Kara yelled at Jack for dawdling over a dead earthworm on their way to the park that it really hit her. “Why was I mad at Jack for being a curious, adorable, slow-moving two-year-old? We had set out for the park, but Jack didn’t care if we were in the park or if we
ever
got there. He was fascinated by some squished critter on the sidewalk. I was the only one who cared that we weren’t getting to our destination. It occurred to me that this wasn’t the first time I’d been angry with poor Jack because of
my own
frustrations.”

Kara’s friend Elaine commiserated with her on the phone that night. “Elaine totally got it. She’s a writer and confessed that she is constantly tempted to—and sometimes does—bring manuscripts to the park when she takes her daughter there. Here we are, trying to be good moms, and instead we are being distracted, divided-attention moms. That’s not what I want from me or for my kid. No thank you.”

Kara grew up in a
Leave It to Beaver
home. “Clearly, my mother was devoted to being a great mom. She had all the time in the world for us.
Mom was so unflappable, she never got angry when we spent too long in the backyard or got our Sunday clothes wet right before she put dinner on the table. I sometimes wonder if she had a double life or some other part of herself we never saw, where she expressed her true self, her inner feelings. But it’s possible that was it for her. Now I think:
How could that have been all?
She was Miss Sunshine every single day. It was like the lights were on but no one was home.”

Kara also knows now that her mother was not satisfied, and her marriage suffered for it. Kara watched her mom’s world get smaller after she and her brother went away to college, and now her parents have a very traditional retirement, where they play bridge, golf, go to concerts, and seem to share barely more than a few words over dinner. When she asks her mom about those days, she answers: “That’s what we did. That was just what was expected, and I enjoyed it. I had great friends. I was happy.”

Kara always vowed to have a full life when she grew up. “I watched my mom be Sally Stepford, and thought,
Uh-uh…not me.
I want it all: the financial independence of working, not to mention having the creative part of my brain firing on all cylinders,
plus
I want the kids and the husband. It’s not like other women haven’t figured this out. Why can’t I? And then something happens and I explode for no reason and think, maybe you can’t be the perfect working woman, the perfect wife, the perfect mom, and not sometimes lose my stuffing.”

Catherine has a thought for Kara: When you are going to the park with your kid, it’s not just about
being
there, it’s about the journey. The simple statement “Let’s go to the park” involves logistical challenges not unlike planning a trip to Europe. There’s the prep work (pack the snacks and lay out the clothes) and then transportation (The double stroller? She wants to bring her tricycle!) and choosing the route (Through the shortcut or along the nicer longer streets?), and all of that can take more time and negotiation than the actual minutes spent at the playground. All of those moments represent valuable transactions between you and your kids.

These seemingly mundane interactions are what parenting is about, not just getting to the park and watching your kid on the swing. The little
things before and after are often more important than the destination. Going to a soccer game? The car trip there and back offers many more chances to connect than the hour-long game. Taking a vacation? Chances are you’ll remember the airport delays and the plane ride conversations long after the hotel or hike is a faded memory.

In this case, as in almost every other moment in our lives, what matters is the journey, not the destination. The pearl: Slow down long enough to enjoy this moment.

And the next one.

Julie is a stay-at-home mom who used to work in advertising. She was phenomenal at it, winning awards and rising to the level of vice president of media planning. Julie is also an amazing mom, pouring herself into her girls, her husband, and her household. “I find it very fulfilling and I have no regrets about changing from working outside the house to working inside it. I wouldn’t swap it for anything.”

Julie does have one nagging concern as her kids get older and the stakes get higher. “You know that old saying, ‘Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems’? Well, now that my girls are ten and twelve, and have just boarded the adolescent roller coaster, I am having a hard time. When I see either of my daughters struggling or feeling unhappy and I can’t make it better, I seem to be more affected than they are. I get depressed.”

Both of her daughters are doing well in school, but Sophie, the oldest, is having some social issues. “I want to call that sleepover kid up, give her a lecture about the importance of being inclusive and thoughtful, and when I’m really out of control, yell at her! Of course, I’d never do that.”

Catherine says Julie’s instincts are from a loving place, but she’s going in the wrong direction. Like most parents, Julie wants the best for her kids. But she can’t
be
her kids. She can only help them acquire the tools they need to navigate through life. Sometimes helping a child see that she can survive a big disappointment can be an amazing growth experience.

No surprise: Julie is in the wrong room, since she can’t live in her child’s room. It’s possible that by experiencing the kid’s room as her own, she’s even adding to her daughter’s disappointment about that “missing” party invitation. She needs to be the parent, and that would take her to the family room, where she can become an adult influencer, as opposed to a kid impersonator.

First step for Julie? Get outside herself, because right now she’s making it all about herself. She can’t go back to eighth grade (that basement scrapbook we all dread) and refight a battle she already lost. But as a mother she can guide Sophie’s experience and help make it better.

Julie must think like a wise adult, not a hurt child. She must be an island of calm and security against the storms her daughters will endure at school (and in life). She needs to see this sleepover flap for the minor setback that it is, not a major social obstacle in her daughter’s life. She can even explain to her daughter, “Remember how this feels, because next time you think about leaving someone out, it will help you make the right decision.”

Julie needs to be empathic, Catherine adds, by listening and letting her daughter express her emotions, not supplying them for her, which is what you do when you are trying to fix a problem because you feel the pain also. She needs to just listen and acknowledge how hard it must be, but then not dwell on it. Perhaps they can make other plans, go see a movie or do something else fun.

If you become too identified with the drama of the preteen social scene, you allow that mentality to extend into your home. The pearl:
Home life should be a haven from the emotional tempests that rage outside, in the hallways of middle school. Be the parent, since your childhood is over. Act your age.

Samantha, a tall, blond health-care manager for a large corporation, says that while she loves her children—a boy and a girl, nine and eleven—there are times when dealing with them gets to be too much and she wants to scream. “I would never, ever do anything to hurt my kids. We don’t believe in spanking, and my husband and I try our best not to even yell or act punitively. But I’ll tell you, when I’ve had a particularly hard day at work, I just can’t deal with my kids harassing me when I get home:
Why can’t I get a cell phone? How come he gets to do that and I don’t? That’s so not fair, Mom! You are ruining my life!”

Samantha wishes they’d greet her like the dog does when she walks through her front door after work. “The kids don’t want to hear that I had a bad day. They haven’t seen me in eight hours and they have lots to tell me. Matt, my husband, usually gets home late, so I have to do everything, from cooking to cleaning to checking homework. And it always seems to end up in a fight of some sort. I get so annoyed that I just go walk the dog.
And the worst part is, I see other parents having nice conversations with their kids and laughing, and I think, Why can’t my kids be more like that?”

Catherine reassures Samantha that every mother has had these kinds of feelings during tough times. Part of the problem is that she needs to ask for what she wants, like a nice greeting at the door instead of being bombarded with a litany of demands. Instead of letting her bad day spill over into a bad night, she can spend some dinner and homework time with them and then know that after they go to bed she gets her personal time, to put her feet up and watch a favorite show or take a bath or read a book.

She may be in the right room here, the kid’s room, but Samantha has always wanted to be a better parent than her dysfunctional mother, who was an alcoholic; sometimes Samantha would find her passed out on the couch, no food in the house. “My mom was never really there for us, and we had to fend for ourselves so much of the time that I promised to always be on it with my kids, but sometimes I forget to leave a little energy for myself. If I were a drinker I’d reach for the wine! I get totally exhausted and then I need a break and it’s not like I really want to divorce them but I feel like it’s not good for me to be this tired and stressed. Something’s gotta give!”

What’s gotta give, says Catherine, is her expectations of perfection. She is the full-on mom she wants to be, but she also works and so does her husband, so the kids need to respect that.

The key process here is “too much of a good thing is a bad thing.” Samantha needs to set her limits and ask for help. She is trying so hard that now she’s running herself ragged.

She’s no good to anyone when she is so depleted. Taking care of herself is a bathroom issue, all about her health and well-being, and in this scenario a long hot soak or a relaxing shower will be more helpful to the kids than a hot, cooked meal and a cranky mom glaring at them from across the table.

Maybe they can order the pizza while Samantha takes a twenty-minute replenishing break and then everyone can come to the table happy and refreshed, ready to share the details of their day. Her husband can step up also, if she asks him to. He could switch off nights with her, so she can come home early three nights a week and he can manage the other two.
Raising kids together requires a lot of give-and-take, but she is the only one giving right now.