Now What?! The myth of the perfect mother

I’ve written so many times about my son that I thought as my ode to Mother’s Day, I would throw something a little different out there.

Like most moms, I would love to say I’ve mothered in a manner reminiscent of a TV mom: Awake hours before my son to ensure his fresh and healthy breakfast was ready and waiting for him... Cleaning and preparing dinner while he was being the picture-perfect student… My son stepping off of the school bus running into my arms to proudly tell me about what a great day he had in school… His fresh-baked cookies waiting for him on the kitchen table for homework time and a glass of milk… Sitting down for family dinner and musing over the adventures of the day.

For any of you whose days played out the way I described, hat’s off to you. My adventures in parenting were not quite as enviable.

This month, I’m commiserating, I mean sharing, with my fellow parents who now luckily can look back and laugh at the moments that once raised our blood pressure. Fortunately, he has given me lots of proud memories, but I’d rather share how I earned my motherhood stripes.

(Spoiler alert – my boy turned into a pretty great young man, which is why I am fine sharing the following.)

The summer before preschool, we were contemplating joining our community pool. Luckily for us, we had friends right down the street who were members and invited us to visit as their guests. This particular family had the type of mom I described above. Her four daughters were like paper dolls crossing the street and followed directions beautifully. I held my son’s hand to enter the pool deck, lathered him up with sunscreen, and reluctantly set him free to play. Just when I started to settle into fun mom banter, sweet daughter No. 2 approached swiftly yet quietly.

“Um, Mrs. McNamara?” she said shyly.

“Yes ma’am. Do you need me?” I asked while I sipped my ice-cold Diet Coke.

Then I could tell it wasn’t just to ask me to watch her dive from the diving board.

“Parker is peeing by the diving well.”

My face was red with embarrassment while I tried to keep composure and walk calmly toward my son in the midst of other preschoolers and early elementary school students – all girls!

I bent at the waist and whispered for him to pull up his bathing suit – now. He finished his business and saw nothing wrong with peeing into the flower bed behind the diving board.

Most moms of boys can relate to the notion of allowing their sons to urinate in the yard when they are playing outside and especially when they are potty training. We were only a few months out of potty training at this time. All of this rationale is 16 years removed from the incident, so it’s easy to laugh about knowing what I know now.

Fast-forward to us joining the pool the following summer, my boy having his first job there at 14 and becoming a swim coach, lifeguard, and now being part of the management team.

I spent so much time volunteering at Parker’s preschool and elementary school to soften the blow a bit with his behavior. He was never malicious but always getting in trouble. And his teachers would never tell me because most were too sweet, but he was never a class favorite.

“Mrs. McNamara – Parker made himself fall out of his chair today over and over to make his classmates laugh. I’m going to need you to talk to him.” (Kindergarten)

“Mrs. McNamara – I’m sorry to bother you, but Parker had to go to the principal’s office after saying the F word on the playground. I think he was trying to make the other kids laugh.” (Second grade)

“Mrs. McNamara – Parker was reprimanded by another teacher in the hallway today because he was spouting water from his water fountain into his friend’s right beside him.” (Fourth grade)

By fifth grade, I asked him to stop telling me the negative when he stepped off the bus. As the mom who spent her time trying to make him into something he just wasn’t, I tried the approach of “don’t ask, don’t tell.”

I always say that he is the kid who would throw the rock and instead of hiding his hand, he’d wave big and tall to say, ‘It was me! I threw the rock!’

As I said, he was not malicious and not sneaky – just lacking impulse control. When he was diagnosed with ADHD, all of the symptoms made sense. And thank goodness, the diagnosis, understanding, and growing into his sense of humor made middle school and high school a cakewalk behavior-wise.

I was strict, with no apologies for it. His actions definitely had consequences ranging in severity. My favorites were the punishments in writing.

I would make him write a paragraph about whatever rule he had broken or (my best to date) write an essay about why his mother was his best friend. That one was in fifth-grade, so not only did he have to write it, but I corrected and rewrote it until it was to my satisfaction.

This all is not in any way to air my son’s dirty laundry – this was written with his full approval. I’m writing these stories for two reasons:

• First, to stop feeding into the idea that social media portrays of everyone’s ‘highlight reel’ of parenthood. I spent 30-something years wanting to be perfect – the perfect daughter, student, girlfriend, wife and mother. I wanted to have the perfect son. When my marriage ended and it was out there for all of our community to observe, there was no saving face. I embraced what I could – to accept that I have a son who does not care about anyone’s opinion of him, and that I wasn’t perfect. As long as he amuses one other person on earth, he’s doing just fine.

• Second, to encourage moms of young children to enjoy those moments. I look back at photos or home videos and I realize I spent so much of my time adjusting and correcting instead of being present and enjoying. It isn’t easy to enjoy in the moment, I remember all too well. But try. I didn’t embrace my boy’s idiosyncrasies because I tried to get him to fit into a mold that he never did – and thank God for that. I wish I had taken the moments to actually enjoy the cuddle instead of counting the moments until naptime. I wish I had let him talk me into a second book while curled up in his bed while he still let me curl up. It was such a sense of relief when I just stepped back and observed him evolving.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of my fellow imperfect moms with imperfect children.