Bad Muthah

Yesterday, my fellow zinester Nicole, sent me a quiz for the upcoming "Hausfrau muthah zine” called, “Bad Muthah.” She asked, “Have you ever thought you were a bad mother?” I shot off a quick reply detailing my need to consume chocolate in order to be the parent I want to be, but as the day progressed I actually found myself in a situation where my inner dialogue consisted of me asking myself, Does this make me a bad mother?

No, I didn’t drive to Zinnies’ for a beer instead of picking up the kids. I went to Kinko’s to get my zine and then had the option of getting the kids or going home for 20 minutes and then getting the kids. I didn’t have anything exciting to do at home—I just needed to unload the dishwasher and put away a few things. Things I could do when the kids were home, albeit much less efficiently.

I thought to myself, What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I want to be with my kids?

It was more about wanting to be alone more than it was about not wanting to be with the kids, if that makes any sense. After a long day of work, I am tired. Even if nothing happens at work, it is exhausting just to be “on” all day. I need a few minutes alone after work to decompress. I need quiet. No coworkers asking me questions, no customers calling, no little people demanding snacks from me or insisting that I “pull up a stool and sit by the potty,” no TV, no radio, no nothing.

So why the guilt?

Since Warren has been home, I’ve adjusted my hours at work so that I get off at 4:30pm instead of 5:00pm. Most days, I’ve been using those thirty minutes to get some much needed exercise. When I’m exercising, I don’t feel guilty, but if it is rainy or cold and I don’t go walking or skating then I do. But I shouldn’t. Taking time for myself doesn’t make me a bad mother. In fact, it makes me a good mother. Or rather, it enables me to be the mother I want to be.

For almost four years now I have programmed myself to only do things for me when the kids are asleep. You know the whole “Power Nap” scenario where the kids are asleep and the mother is frantically checking email or blogging, sweeping the floor, folding laundry, eating chocolate, watching VH1, and/or talking on the phone. This is the reason so many mommies are Nap Nazis or Schedule Queens. It’s amazing what we can do in 30minutes-2 hours when no one is clamoring for our attention. When deprived of this much needed time, we get a little crazy. If a mother says, “The baby didn’t nap today,” she is really trying to tell you that the house is a wreck, she has no idea what’s happening in cyberspace, she’s hungry, and she probably hasn’t peed in 10 hours.

On weekdays when I have been at work all day and the boys have been at school all day, it is hard for me to do anything but cater to them for the few hours that we are together. But while I’m catering to them and being super mom, I still have the “X minutes until bedtime” ticker going off in my head. Not because I don’t want to be with them, but because there are certain things that need doing—lunches have to be packed, John Stewart has to be watched, and so on. Only recently have I allowed myself to work on something while the boys entertain themselves or each other alongside me or in the other room. Having the ability to be productive while the children are awake, has been a serious breakthrough. I no longer have to cram my chores and “me time” into the late evening hours at the expense of much needed sleep.

But then the guilt hits me again. I should be playing with the kids instead of folding laundry I think. And I’m back to square one.

However, my four-year-old has come up with a solution to my dilemma. He has started asking, “Can I help?” For someone who has made multi-tasking a way of life, it has been hard for me to actually answer, “Yes,” to this almost constant question. However, I have found that when I do say yes, it is usually extremely gratifying. Satchel (and to some extent, Jiro) has proven to be a very good helper. We have made cookies, put away dishes, run errands, and even stapled my zine. It often takes a little longer with my helper(s), but I realized that sharing my time with them is extremely important.

We also have activities that we enjoy doing together. While most of our family activities are still geared towards the boys’ interests (i.e. going to the playground, the zoo, etc.) there are several things that we all enjoy doing—hiking the old forest trails, hanging out with friends, and skating. As the boys get older, I can see the list of things we all enjoy getting larger and larger.

When toy scuffles arise, my refrain is, “Everyday is share day in this house.” I’m just starting to see that the sharing has to extend to the adults too. In sharing my time and letting the boys help and by finding shared interests, I am sharing myself with them. At this stage, when Satchel is literally sharing his every thought (“Look Mommy! I can make my penis move!”) it is only fair.

But wait, didn't I start this essay in defense of "me" time? In order to convince you, dear reader, that I deserve it and that I am indeed a "good" mother, I subconsciously crafted several lovely paragraphs on sharing.

Dang.

Did it work? Is it okay to admit that I like to spend a half hour after work alone now?