Shame on Me.

Mom voices in my head at every move. I hear the constant murmur of advice laced with warning. Moms should...moms shouldn’t...shame on you, Mom. Blogs and books and self-help—newspaper articles and magazine columns and radio talk show hosts.

 Those voices were loud when my kids were babies. I trembled in my tired, baby-weighted body when I realized I did the opposite of the latest advice. I struggled against my instinct to snuggle my crying one and let them “cry it out”...that only lasted with the first...and it didn’t even last—45 mins of crying and I couldn’t handle it. I raced upstairs at 2 a.m., snatched him from the crib he had gnawed on as he screamed, and implemented midnight co-sleeping for the rest of my motherhood of babies. I can easily admit that now—but four kids later, I will also admit the sharp guilt that stabbed me at every turn away from the latest and greatest mom shoulda’s. (BTW, my kids grew up and sleep in their own beds—mamas, it doesn’t last forever).

Last night, I made a mama call. And, I wasn’t ashamed one bit....um, well... Shame does seem to lessen when you are over 40 and master selective-hearing/reading/advice-seeking. So, hubs was out of town and Mama and oldest had to divvy up driving kids everywhere. I opted to let my 2nd grader skip her activity to help us all out.

Even though I was relieved to find a solution to our crazy, I confess—some mom perfection niggled at my tired brain—Don’t let the team down! The coaches are spending their night for your kid! You need to teach responsibility and commitment! Ok, that was more than a niggle.

Moms, did the activity priority make its way to the top because of all the experts out there? What kinda guilt is piled on one parent to invest in their child at a professional level by the age 2?

 I am preaching to myself—the mom who’s kids are in a high level sport development program, the mom who sought the best dance program for her 3 year old, the mom who just makes the crazy work for the sake of her kids’ [future]. Holy moly, if only our limited view wasn’t so flawed. If only I’d look up every once in a while and realize I am not really in control of futures...I am only a mom trying to invest in her kids’ present. Jack Black is screaming in my head,”Stick it to the man!”

But really, I am going to do what I can do—I can’t let expectations or columnists or activity directors or—even more powerful—other parents—(yikes)—dictate my philosophies. Philosophies? How about survival to bring up decent humans and enjoy some of the process? A low key philosophy I am beginning to own more and more. I will do a lot for my children, I have... but I might start doing more with my hands covering my ears—and my heart focused on being...and NOT doing so much.