THE 7 THINGS I WISH I COULD HAVE TOLD MY NEW-MOM SELF
/You become a mother in a split second. There is no in between; no trainee status or learner's permit. Only the before and the after.
Imagine being tossed into the driver's seat of a Ferrari on the Autobahn, with no prior time behind the wheel. That's motherhood. But here's the real zinger: there's a little helpless person along with you for the ride.
Some women are naturals, and find it exhilarating. Others find it terrifying. The rest of us are probably somewhere in between, depending on the day. Or hour. Or nap schedule.
I remember when I was in labor with our first son, Ian, 30 years ago. Duncan asked how things were going, and the obstetrician told us that we were going to be parents before the end of the day. Yikes! The words were like a bucket of cold water to my face. A real wake-up call. "Gentlemen, start your engines!"
I wish I could go back to that delivery room, and chat with my soon-to-be new-mom self. I'd hold her in my arms, and reassure her that everything was going to be OK. Then I'd tell her these 7 things:
1. Sometimes there just aren't any answers. My good friend, Jenny, admitted that, whenever her first born cried, she frantically went through a "mental checklist" of all the things that could be wrong. Within a few months, however, she'd resigned to the fact that she might never know what her son needed. And that was OK. She opted, instead, just to snuggle him. Not a bad alternative, and much less likely to drive a sleep-deprived mom bonkers.
2. Tell your children about the birds and bees while you're driving in the car. When I had "the chat" with our oldest son, we were in a cafe. Not a restaurant, but one of those hip coffee bars that serves homemade granola. Somehow (presumably in a moment of altered reality), I thought that would be "cooler." It wasn't. After the initial shock, Ian wanted to hide under the table. His eyes kept darting around the room, to see exactly who was witnessing the horror. When I told my sister about the debacle, she shared the driving option with me. "You don't have to look them in the eye, and they can't jump out." Although I think my youngest son probably considered it.
3. Have one chair in your house where your child can tell you anything, and you promise not to get mad. Another gem from my sister. Really, she should be called the "childhood whisperer." In my house, the "confessional" was only used once. It was a quiet evening, and I was reading in the family room when I sensed someone sidling up to my side. "Mom, can we go to the chair?" My world stopped. I knew this was a big deal. In my son's mind, the chair was Switzerland, on steroids. A safe place to discuss life-or-death matters. Obviously, I can't tell you what transpired, lest I be struck down by Odin, the Norse god of betrayal. Suffice it to say, he shared no contemplated criminal behavior. Thank God, because such disclosures are not covered by the attorney-client privilege.
4. Don't be afraid to be the strict parents. Strict parents get their kids off the hook. Don't want to go to the party and stay out all night? No problem. "My parents won't let me go." Plus, strict parenting just makes a lot of sense. Children like to know the rules, although their DNA prohibits them from ever admitting it.
5. Motherhood isn't for the faint of heart. No matter how hard you try, there will be some incredibly tough times. Dreadful moments when you feel the blood drain from your body. When time stands still and there's an icy grasp on your soul. Health scares, accidents, late nights (or should I say early mornings) when they forget to call; times when the only thing you can do is put one foot in front of the other, and just keep going. Plus, it's inevitable: at some point, your child will break your heart. Only because you gave it to him or her in the first place.
6. Learn to pick your fights. When our youngest son, Peter, was four, he had a pathological aversion to wearing shorts. Then, about ten years later, he bought a fez and insisted on wearing it 24/7. Duncan and I accepted both of these bizarre fashion proclivities (see #1, above). But when, as a teenager, Peter announced that he was going to drive to Canada with a friend in a blizzard, without any planning, documentation, or money, Duncan and I drew the line. Somehow, the likelihood of freezing in a snowbank on the side of the highway had escaped him. When we told him he was staying home, Peter reminded Duncan and me how stupid we were, which only confirmed that we'd picked the right fight. When in doubt, the level of stupidity attributed to a particular decision can be a reliable gauge. Feel free to use it.
7. It is the ordinary moments that make childhood extraordinary. Your children don't need the best toys or sneakers. All they really want is your time. Be present. Be loving. Get down and play in the dirt with them. Don't be afraid, on occasion, to celebrate one of their accomplishments by eating dessert first. Focus more on everyday wonders than over-the-top adventures. I remember one night, when Peter and I were playing Scrabble. There was a snowstorm and we lost power, so we lit a candle and pressed on. When the lights came back on, Peter asked if he could turn them off. Of course, it wasn't about the lights. And it didn't matter who was winning (although I have no doubt it was him, because he now writes crossword puzzles for the New York Times). It was the feeling that he wanted to preserve. The ordinary that was, in that moment, for him (and me), extraordinary.
I'm no longer a young mother. Fortunately, I don't have to tell my baby granddaughter, Rose, the facts of life or be the strict parent. We just play. On the floor. Someday, I hope to take her to a cafe, without an agenda. Maybe she'll even wear Peter's fez, which I found neatly folded in the attic last year. It still smells like him.
Even though our roles change as we get older, new-mom advice still applies. At every stage of life, we need to be kind, inspiring, playful, and generous. The only difference is that our "mature" selves have a lot more experience behind the wheel, and we know what to do when we lose power: live by candlelight.
(P.S. Thank you, Duncan, for joining me on the drive. You've made the trip a lot smoother, and much more fun. "I look forward to looking back, from further on down the track. Forever my love." Carly Simon. From our wedding. See, I remembered.)
