My two children are young.  I don’t have a lot of experience, almost five years in the spring.  I’m still learning.  So far, for this working mom, I’ve learned a few things about being a mom I wish I’d known before becoming a parent. Things I couldn’t have understood until now. 

Like how unimportant my non-mom self would be to my children.  I believe this is true whether you work outside the home or not.  Mothers spend often lonely, mind-numbingly dull days at home with their kids.   Mothers schlep to work, further their career and bring home extra income.  We all try to maintain relationships with friends, manage our households, and if we’re lucky, find time to spend with our husbands so we can remember why we married them.  I believe all of these things are important.  Who you are, what you do, and how you choose to live are important.  Who I am is important, just not to my children.  To them, I’m their mother.  To them, it’s all I need to be.  Still, I wouldn’t trade my education and life experiences just because from a day-to-day perspective, none of it seems to matter to them.  Sure, I knew kids were self-involved before I had them.  And it’s not that I expected anything else.  It just took becoming a mother to realize how it feels to have so much of ‘me’ be so inconsequential to the ones who mean the most – my children.  

For me, this is both liberating and frustrating.  I think of how cruel the 80’s were, so many things I wish I’d done differently in my life, all the stuff my best friends know about me…I shake my head and breathe a sigh of relief, my kids will never know.  Yet at the same time, they’ll never know how hard I worked to get it right, to be the person I am today.  My kids are getting smarter and faster every day and they still remain unfazed by the sacrifices and decisions I make – me, their mother - who is trying so hard to get it right.  They need new shoes, my hair cut can wait.  Put your helmet on, eat your apple, wash your hands, say you’re sorry, share...it is dizzying what goes into being a mother as I dare enter their tornado-like path through life.    

Growing up and into my adulthood I wish I’d heard, ‘listen up, you will need this if you want to be a mother one day’, instead of, ‘listen up, you might be tested on this or you might need this for a job one day’.  A mother is being a teacher so they’ll learn, a nurse so they’ll heal, a fireman to put out their fires, and a judge to teach them right from wrong.  You are their social secretary, coach, cheerleader, jester and friend.  You are their entire world – becoming a mother taught me how incredible, and incredibly humbling, that feels.  To them, to have my attention is what it’s all about.  My measuring stick is my smiles and encouragement.  Showing them I’m proud of their accomplishments are the most important things I can do for them.  Cleaning out the play room, swimming lessons, buying them the latest toy?  All good things, each important in their own way.  But nothing I ever do, plan for, buy, or work on, will ever pay off as much as spending time with my kids.   I let them know I’m watching them and they have all they need – me!  My love.  I remember that when I need it the most.

I know a mother whose arms were full carrying her child and many other bags, who, when blowing didn’t work, actually licked a mosquito off her son’s head.  You’ll forget to re-stock the Kleenexes and wipe away dripping snot with your bare hands.  You’ll get peed on.  Full-frontal sneezed on.  You’ll spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning up poop – found in the darndest of places!  So what your resume says you can do so much more, right?  What’s important to my children is getting me to sit next to them at dinner.  What’s important to them is that I say the same bedtime mantra ‘sweet sweet dreams sweet boy’ and ‘snug as a bug in a princess rug’.  I am their mother.  Their go-to person.  Their best chance for survival.  Nothing bad better happen to me.

“Mumma, I like your skirt, you look pretty.”  And in all honesty, the skirt belongs in a reject pile from a ‘what not to wear’ show.  “Mommy, you’re special,” said with no reason or occasion.  I have their approval.  No one tells you how amazing this is going to feel – I wish I’d known, it would have helped in the early years.  But winning their love and approval is as fickle as the wind; I’ve learned not to wait for it.  I live my life and remember what’s important.    

Being a mother has taught me kids have a huge capacity for forgiveness.  I’ve had to say I’m sorry more than once to my kids.  If only I’d known how hard fought a simple ‘please put your shoes on’ would be.  I’ll make lots more mistakes.  It’s ok.  They’ll forgive me.  

Being a mother has taught me the importance of a good hand-held vacuum – they deserve their own category within baby registries.  I’ve learned the hard way how critical knowing where the nearest Kleenex and/or container of wipes are.  I’ve discovered that we will not run out of milk – ever.  I’ve accepted how much we pay for having ‘On Demand’.  I’ve seen with my own eyes the hours of amusement provided by a simple bucket of water or a cardboard box.  Yes, being a mother has taught me many things.

Before kids I had achieved a measure of success; I had time to spare and money to burn.  Then I met the man who would become my husband and it was much of the same except double the narcissism, us against the world with time to play and twice the income to burn.  When we found out that we were expecting I turned a harsh, critical eye on my husband, what kind of father will he be?  Gone were the halcyon days of seeing him play with my nephews and niece, ‘oh, isn’t that sweet, he’s going to make a great father one day’.  There are now double lines on the stick – this is the real deal.   I need him.  I can’t do it all.  Would he be the father I wanted my kids to have?  Would he possess the best traits in my own father?  

The answer lies in the most important thing I’ve learned while chasing wishes at the intersection between motherhood, and learning about what’s important.  Let’s face it, we want it all; an attractive husband with a good paying job who treats you with kindness and respect.  But in all my calculus, the one thing I sort of knew but took for granted, the one thing I didn’t give nearly enough consideration, is how important your partner is when you have kids – or even having a partner at all.  

Maybe one day the level of organization and hygiene my kids were raised with will pay off.  

Maybe one day the person I am – a friend, a daughter, a researcher, a wife – will be important to them and will be of some influence in their lives.  There is so much I want to tell them, so much I want them to understand.  I need to be patient – it’s not important right now.  Right now, I’m just their mother.

Maybe one day the time I do spend with my kids will pay off…on the floor, embracing the dog hair and crumbs.  Mommy is watching.  Please let them remember the times I’ve made them laugh.

But none of this means much because without my husband, without him by my side, I’m one paycheck away from sheer chaos.  I’ll be in bed under the covers if you need me.  It’s by far the most important decision I’ll ever make.  I wish I’d known.  It took being a mom to realize it.  

The truth is, even if I could’ve fully appreciated the significance of just how much the man I marry would shape my life and my kids’ lives, I still would have chosen him.  Like the love for my kids, you can’t help who you love.  So go ahead, bring on the poop, the sneezes and the candy cane I found congealed to the carpet under my son’s bed.  They’re stuck with me just as much as I’m stuck with them.  I remember this when I need it the most.  You stick together and you’ll be alright.  But what do I know?  I’m still learning.

 
Renée has made her career in cardiovascular research and clinical trial project management.  She dreams of getting her novel published and weekly home deliveries of fresh-cut flowers.  She and her husband Aaron are the proud parents of two healthy tornadoes, Sophie Grace, 5, and Jackson, 4.  They live in Kensington, New Hampshire.