It Gets Better. Special Mom's Edition.

When I dropped off my son at the gym's Kids' Club, (REFUSING TO SPELL CLUB WITH A 'K',) there was a very upset little girl, being held by the worker. "She's new," I heard her say to another mom. About 20(ish) minutes later, as I went in to change my [gym-pooper, WTF?] son's diaper, I saw the little girl, still being held, still crying--looking much, much worse for the wear.

"I called once and the mom said she was going to leave her because she needs to get used to it but I think she needs to come and get her," said the sweet, 19 year old girl who works there.

I had a series of flash-backs. Waiting until my daughter was 15 months old to even ATTEMPT going back to the gym, knowing that she'd be a screaming mess. Going every single day for a MONTH, staying for only 10 minutes because she'd be crying her face off. Feeling hopeless and trapped and like I'd never, ever be able to resume a normal life. Crying on the way home out of frustration and depression, aching to have one thing be easy. Just one.

When the mother came in, she reached for her baby and while soothing her said, "Well, I got 15 minutes. I guess that's a good first day. Should we come for 15 minutes tomorrow, too?"

I wanted to say something encouraging. My impulse was to reach out and relate. And then I thought, "This is probably her third kid and you're going to look like a know-it-all-idiot-assvice-giver."

But there was something about her. About her voice. I held my breath and jumped in.

"Is she your first?" I asked.

"Yes, she is," she said.

I told her how she reminded me of my daughter. About how my girl had colic and was touchy anyway, ("Her TOO, oh my lord!") and how I waited to bring her and how I would bring her every day for only 10 minutes, knowing ahead of time I'd be called and how I'd cry on the way home.

"But, you know," I said, "it gets better."

I told her how my girl adjusted and then, one day, it was like a switch was flipped. That once she was a little older and had a little more practice, things like going to the gym became much easier.

"How long did it take her?" the mom asked.

We are sensitive, I think. Sensitive to parenting differences or child temperament differences that look like they might be caused by parenting differences. Sensitive to others' comments or questions or suggestions or, let's face it, assvice. Feeling (or actually being) criticized for doing this job that is exceptionally difficult most of the time. We make judgment calls every day, in charge of these dependent little people and we hope, most of us, that we are choosing Right most of the time.

But being called to the carpet, so often by people who have no business doing the calling, can and does chafe, I think. It scrapes us up. Makes us a little raw. So that even a slight breeze can sting. It also makes me reluctant to try to comfort or connect, lest I step on a nerve or a feeling. Lest I unknowingly take a loofah to an already exfoliated, or maybe thin, skin.

It can be a fine line between, "Oh, man, I've been there and it really DOES suck," (i.e. I understand and empathize) and "I've been there, done that and got over it," (i.e. Yeah, yeah, they all go through it, suck it up.)

It makes me think of this issue that I had with The Man. Every once in a while, he would observe or be subjected to something that usually only happens to me, the primary care-giver. Like, TLNG would become hysterically unhinged because he put the wrong number of raisins on her plate, for instance.

"Wow," he'd say, "what's up with THAT?!"

"Welcome to *MY* world," I'd say.

He'd get angry and upset and it had to happen a few times before my sleep-deprived mind was sharp enough to inquire-slash-figure out what the fuck was happening.

In welcoming my husband to *my* world, I was offering what I *thought* was a humorous kind of empathy. I was trying to say, 'RIGHT?! Who knew that having exactly EIGHT RAISINS was the KEY TO HAPPINESS? Today?'

But what he heard was more like, "Yeah, WHATEVER. I deal with this shit like EVERY FUCKING DAY, dude. You're not telling me anything I DON'T ALREADY KNOW. BETTER THAN YOU."

Since we're married and we like each other, we worked that out and it's all good, now. The mother wrestling her kid into a cart in the produce section, or the mother whose kid is standing still in the middle of the sidewalk I'm trying to walk on, or the mother whose toddler is face-down, screaming in the aisle of CVS isn't likely to give me a second chance, though.

 I don't know where I'm going with this, really.

Except that like gay teenagers, I think that sometimes moms of newborns or toddlers or multiple children in challenging phases need to hear it, too.

It gets better.

"And you know, this one here," I said, pointing to my son, "he walks right in and never looks back, so there's always hope for the next one."

She sighed and chuckled and looked at me, "Thank you," she said, "thank you, so much."

Comments

[Clueless But Hopeful Mama]

Hahaha! Great minds think alike! http://cluelessbuthopeful.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-gets-better.html

Well, your mind is great. I'm pretty convinced that mine looks like the cheesy cauliflower dish I made last night that no one ate but me.

Lovely post. It's great to be on the other side, isn't it?

[Clueless But Hopeful Mama]

Ha! Great minds think alike!
http://cluelessbuthopeful.blogspot.com/2011/01/it-gets-better.html

(Well, your mind is great. I'm pretty sure mine looks like the cheesy cauliflower dish I made last night that no one would eat.)

Lovely post. It's wonderful to be on this side of it, isn't it?

[Lindsey]

Two times I've clicked on this blog recently to find a new post, HOORAY!!! I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE BACK!!

[Manic Mommy]

I loved this post. Every word of it is so true. Mine to my husband was "welcome to parenthood". Who knew them was fightin' words?

Sometimes hearing "I've been there" from another (non-judgmental) mom is the difference between a hard day and an impossible one.

[abbey]

Wonderful post -- That has been my gym drop off experience too and would have loved support like you gave. Yeah for awesome moms!

[amy]

I stepped outside myself once when a mother was dropping her son off at Kindergarten (he was fah-reaking out). I felt the same way; torn between saying something and looking like a bitch, or saying something and giving her support. I hoped that it was supportive.

[a]

I had an entire grocery store full of people giving me the "I know, I've been there, it doesn't last forever" look the day my daughter had a complete meltdown there. I didn't even feel like I got one "Can't you control your child?" stare.

Nice job...

[Lindsay]

That was so kind of you and perfectly handled. I had another mom say something similar to me with my, shall we say "Spirted" baby and it made me feel so much better. And she was right. Well, until age 3 hit and then age 4 came along and all was good in the world again. hee.

[Kate]

You're back! Hooray!
My little guy seems to be the clingiest of the group at daycare drop-off. We're 2 months in, and he's still reluctant to just play with the other kids when we arrive.
Thanks so much for this post--it reminds me that he just needs time and patience.

[Di]

Our kids are so close in age, you know. C was born in May 2007, and B was born September 2009. Really, so close.

I've been trying to figure out a way to say just this, to help the young moms I know. To tell them that it does work out, even if it seems so unbearably hard some times.

And I need to hear it too - to know that sometimes someone else can't see the forest for the trees either.

Thanks!

[Amelia Sprout]

You know, your blog was found sort of in that way for me. It was this awesome way of going, holy crap, this shit is happening to someone else. I'm not alone. And since M is slightly older than TLNG, I tried to share that it got better for us when that was the case.
Also, thanks for the reminder to go easy on the husband when it comes to me being the one home pretty much full time, while he is just an observer.