Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies)

by Jill Smokler

  “So, if you’re so miserable, get a job,” Jeff would say.

  And have someone else raise my baby??? Am I not doing it well? Nobody can love her like I do. I can’t miss her first steps! And first smiles! What—she’s going to say Mommy to someone else? I don’t think so, JEFF. I wouldn’t trade being home for anything in the world. OBVIOUSLY. You don’t understand me at all!!!

  Of course he didn’t understand me. I didn’t understand me. I had exactly what I wanted and suddenly I wanted what I had always hated.

  Then I got pregnant with Ben when Lily was just fifteen months, and before I knew it Evan came and I was a SAHM to three kids under the age of four. I found myself desperate for something more. My blog was born out of my need to find something to fulfill me outside of being a mommy. I remember the day I decided to start Scary Mommy. Lily and Ben were in preschool and Evan was napping. I decided to lie down on the couch and catch a quick nap myself while I could. As I lay there, thoughts were racing through my head, preventing me from falling asleep. Why is Caillou bald, I wondered. Does he have a disease? Do his parents shave his head? And what about Max and Ruby? Do they have parents? Is the trauma surrounding their death the reason that poor Max never speaks?

  These thoughts were the last straw. I was determined to go out and find my fulfillment. And eventually I did. But it can’t be a coincidence that the more time I dedicate to my career, the more fulfilling I find motherhood. Having looked at it from both sides, I can say that in my experience staying home with young children full-time was less fulfilling than working a bunch of thankless jobs. Neither fulfilled me, really, but the former debilitated me. I was losing my mind, and if I had not branched out and found something to work on, I would probably be divorced and institutionalized by now.

  I have many friends who consider themselves SAHMs. But the reality is, most of them have hobbies or a side gig selling jewelry or body creams online. Even the littlest job or hobby gives them an identity other than simply Mommy. And that’s really, really important.

  Look, to each her own. I’m no expert, and it’s certainly possible that there are mothers out there whose children totally and completely fulfill them. I just don’t know any.

  Five Hours in the Life

  of a Stay-at-Home Mom . . .

  5:12

  Baby wakes up and needs to eat. Feed baby. Baby won’t go back to sleep in his crib and it’s too early to start the day.

  5:17

  Bring baby into bed, where toddler is already sleeping because she wet the bed two hours earlier and came to spread it to ours. Lie between them, with baby on right, toddler on left, and two arms that are tingling but can’t be moved for fear of waking the children. All while listening to the melodic sound of husband snoring.

  5:24

  Get kicked in the face by toddler.

  5:31

  Get kicked in the thigh by toddler.

  5:32

  Get snapped at by husband for having an unintentional family bed.

  5:39–5:42

  Tear self out of bed to change diaper that has become intoxicating. Discover that there are only three diapers left. Find Sharpie and write note on hand to buy more diapers. Accidentally rip tab of diaper off. Throw away. Circle note to buy diapers. Put baby in bouncy seat.

  5:44

  Change toddler diaper. Note to self that potty training begins TOMORROW.

  5:45–5:59

  Feed toddler breakfast. Toddler decides oatmeal makes a better art project than meal. Clean oatmeal off kitchen cabinets, ceiling, and television.

  6:00–6:31

  Feed baby the remainder of bottle. Burp baby. Catch spit with bare hands. Impress self with stellar reflexes.

  6:32

  Shove a breakfast bar down throat. Chug a cup of coffee.

  6:33–7:05

  Ignore baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  7:06–7:11

  Get baby dressed. Get toddler dressed. Use final diaper on baby.

  7:12

  Wash hands. Change shirt. Brush teeth.

  7:13–7:25

  Straighten up house, put laundry in washing machine, check email.

  7:26–7:55

  Ignore baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  7:56–8:00

  Baby leaked through clothes. Retrieve emergency diaper from car. Change clothes.

  8:00–8:12

  Load up car to head to grocery store for diapers. Buckle toddler in car seat. Buckle baby in infant carrier. Drive .05 miles only to realize diaper bag is in the garage. Turn around. Retrieve diaper bag. Proceed to grocery store.

  8:19

  Enter grocery store. Find bananas, coffee, and Advil.

  8:30

  Glance at rubbed-off Sharpie writing on hand. Attempt to decipher. Think, it can’t be important.

  8:33

  Depart grocery store. Load children into car. Realize story time about to begin at bookstore. Drive to bookstore for story time. Story time started at 8:30. Interrupt story time. Sit down and listen to story.

  8:40

  Smell a dirty diaper. Remember what that note was and that there are zero diapers in diaper bag. Glance at other mothers. Zero in on mother of baby and beg for diaper. Success! Change diaper on floor. Ignore dirty looks.

  9:15

  Leave bookstore and return to grocery store. Purchase diapers. Toddler needs to go potty. Bring toddler to restroom. Watch with horror as toddler dips hands into toilet. Scrub toddler hands. Return to line for Purell.

  9:34

  Load children back into car. Keep baby from falling asleep as if life depended on it. Open car windows. Sing “Wheels on the Bus.” “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” “You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  9:38

  Baby giggles.

  9:40

  Baby sneezes.

  9:43

  Baby cries.

  9:45

  Turn onto street.

  9:46

  Baby falls asleep.

  9:47

  Unload baby from car. Baby wakes up. So much for baby’s nap.

  9:50–10:11

  Ignore fussy baby to pay attention to toddler. Read to toddler. Do puzzle with toddler. Sing to toddler. “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” You Are My Sunshine.” “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  10:12

  Glance at clock. Yawn. Look at hand and wonder what note says. Question how on earth it can’t even be noon.

  Lie #20

  IT’S JUST A PHASE

  For years we’ve been assuming our daughter is just in an annoying phase. Turns out, she’s actually just really annoying.

  —Scary Mommy Confession #254512

  Lily went through a couple-of-week span where she asked “why” so many times that I still suffer post-traumatic stress when I hear the word, more than six years later. It’s just a phase, everyone told me. She’ll grow out of it. And she did. Thank goodness.

  There was a several-month period where two-year-old Ben refused to leave my arms for even a minute. It would have been sweet if it hadn’t included trips to the bathroom and all three meals. It’s just a phase, everyone told me. He’ll grow out of it. And he did. Thank goodness.

  Evan picked his nose so often and so intensely when he turned four that I was convinced he’d do permanent and irreparable damage to his nostrils. It’s just a phase, everyone told me. He’ll grow out of it. And he did. Thank goodness.

  But what happens when your kids don’t outgrow those unpleasant periods? When does a “phase” become a trait, or worse a . . . bad personality?

  All you have to do to see that not all phases are outgrown is go to any mall in America on a Saturday afternoon. There’s the middle-aged woman talking so loudly on her cell
phone, it’s as if she is single-handedly trying to cure deafness. I’m sure her parents simply thought she was going through a loud-talker phase back in the day. Then there is the man walking in front of you, meandering aimlessly from left to right and making it impossible for you to pass by him. I bet his parents thought his zigzag way of walking was cute when he was a toddler. And what about all the people in the food court chewing with their mouths open wide enough for you to get a good sense of the sogginess of the lo mein noodles? Their parents never bothered to tell their kids to chew with their mouths closed, because . . . it’s just a phase!

  All of the books tell us to embrace our kids’ differences, to foster and celebrate their idiosyncrasies. And I believe that to a degree; there’s nothing wrong with a little boy who wants to play with a Barbie doll, or a little girl who prefers the company of books to that of her classmates. Those are phases we should get on board with.

  But when I see Lily competing to the death in every single thing she does, I force myself to resist the tendency to blame it on a phase. When your third-grade daughter is so competitive that she can’t even play Pickup Sticks without hurting someone, you have no choice but to step in. Because if I don’t, next thing I know I’ll be bailing her out of jail for a drunken game of Quarters gone wrong. I know her competitive streak is not a phase. It’s part of her nature, and it always will be. But if I work now to help her rein it in and channel it into something productive, I think it will end up being one of the qualities that make her a successful adult.

  I take the same outlook with Ben and his stubbornness. That kid will not do something if he doesn’t want to. I remember when I first noticed this side of him, when he was about four. It’s just a phase, I told myself, after I forbade him from eating anything until he ate one piece of broccoli—and he didn’t eat anything for twelve hours, until I caved. I’m working on ways to embrace rather than antagonize stubborn Ben, because I realize it is part of who he is.

  And Evan’s tendency to RUN—rather than walk—everywhere he goes and the fact that he body-slams his family and friends as a salutation may very well be a phase. Or it could develop into one hell of an annoying personality trait. If it continues, I’ll most definitely have to find some way to better channel his intense physical energy, or we’ll all end up in trouble. And with some hefty ER bills to boot.

  My kids are all young, and the moment I feel like I’ve mastered how to deal with a certain phase, they enter another, leaving me entirely clueless. I think the best I can do as a parent is help guide them to be the type of person that I’d want to spend time with and hope that society agrees. A motherly civic duty, and a public service to the rest of the world. Lord knows, we could use fewer annoying people around here, and I can only avoid that trip to the mall for so long.

  Phases Kids Should Never Outgrow

  • THE TOO PERFECT TO LAST PHASE when Mommy is the most beautiful person in the world.

  • THE EASY TRANSFER PHASE when they fall asleep in the car and can be placed—still sleeping—directly into their beds.

  • THE FREE MAID PHASE when they love dusting, vacuuming, and wiping counters for you.

  • THE PRE BAND-AID PHASE when a kiss from Mommy cures any ailment.

  • THE EASY TO PLEASE PHASE when the box was just as much fun to play with as the present inside.

  • THE SWEET BREATH PHASE when even morning breath is delicious smelling.

  • THE “I’LL GET IT FOR YOU!” PHASE when highly energetic children retrieve your every last desire.

  • THE TWO NAP A DAY PHASE when you could actually get things done.

  • THE MOMMY IS ALWAYS RIGHT PHASE when “because I said so” is enough of an answer for everything.

  Phases They Can’t Outgrow Fast Enough

  • THE KNOW IT ALL PHASE when they are suddenly the smartest people in the universe.

  • THE CAN I HAVE THIS PHASE when they expect to get whatever their heart’s desire the moment they desire it.

  • THE I WANT TO PICK MY OWN OUTFITS PHASE when they insist on leaving the house looking ridiculous.

  • THE WHY PHASE when all you want them to do is shut the hell up.

  • THE JINX PHASE when it’s the most hilarious thing in the world when two people speak at the same time.

  • THE CONSTANT SNOT PHASE when they have a runny nose all winter. And winter lasts from October to May.

  Lie #21

  YOU WILL SUCCUMB TO SENTIMENTALITY

  I emptied out and threw away the contents of my daughter’s backpack without thinking. She’s twenty and still hasn’t forgiven me for ruining the self-portrait she worked on all year.

  —Scary Mommy Confession #254979

  There is little that is sweeter than a handmade macaroni necklace presented to you by your adorable toddler. The first time you receive one, you will, no doubt, proudly wear it around your neck like it was made from the finest cultured pearls. Your precious child painstakingly threaded each individual piece of pasta! With his bare hands! Look at that color composition—look at that sense of style! It’s a masterpiece, and you are the luckiest mommy in the world.

  Macaroni necklaces are followed by more macaroni necklaces, until you start to feel like the hostess at a Macaroni Grill. Soon other trinkets make their way into your life, one at a time. A paper weight here. A wind-chime there. Before you know it, your house is overridden with keepsake memorabilia that threaten your sanity.

  It’s a tough situation to find yourself in, suddenly facing your very own Sophie’s Choice: your children’s feelings or your own sanity. I remember the moment I made the choice myself, swimming in piles of the kids’ artwork as I tried to organize our files. It was then and there that I decided there had to be a better way. There had to be a compromise. And so began my career as a selective curator of kids’ shit.

  Once I decided on my course of action, I was all in. I was committed to ridding the house of excess junk that the kids made, while maintaining a respectable amount of memorabilia. There was no room for emotions, and I had to take no prisoners. And so I purged. And purged some more. I weeded out their handiwork by category: useless, dangerous, and ugly. Wouldn’t you know it, about 90 percent of the stuff fit into one of the three. Frankly, there were a few times I had trouble picking just one category! I ended up with a nice smattering of keepsakes, each one bringing me back to a place and time.

  That was a turning point for me as a mother. That was the moment when I put my sentimentality for children’s artwork in check and reclaimed my house.

  These days, it takes a lot for an item handmade and brought into this house by one of my children to last the night. I have to work quickly and quietly to avoid hurting anyone’s feelings, but so far, so good. There have been paintings and tongue compressor puppets. Mugs and pillowcases and plates and clay. The list is never-ending. We haven’t had any tears yet—from me or from them. And we are all better for it.

  I’ll never forget the time I drove to a Dumpster in the parking lot of our local Walgreen’s so that I could discreetly and permanently dispose of the first semester’s bounty. I waited until the kids were asleep and pulled up just as the store was closing. To my initial chagrin, I wasn’t alone. There was another family-sized SUV parked near the Dumpster as I drove up. I watched as the driver stepped out of the car, opened her automatic trunk, and pulled out a kitchen trash bag. She walked over to the Dumpster, hurled the bag over her head into the trash, and got back in her car and drove away. With the coast clear, I got out of my car with my very own trash bag and made my way toward the Dumpster. As I walked to the perimeter of the big blue box, something caught my eye. It was a hole in the bag that the other women had just deposited. And there, sticking out of the hole, was something that was clearly made by a child with preschool teachers who get a good laugh at Mommy’s expense.

  Perhaps I was predisposed to have a weak sense of sentimentality. With a mother as sentimental as mine, I am sure that the need to rebel is partially to blame for
my urge to purge. I’m also quite confident that my kids will hold on to every last thing to compensate for their mother’s excessive trashing. Save too much, save too little . . . we mothers just can’t win. The best we can do is choose what to save wisely. And, of course, use the utmost discretion when disposing of the rest of the crap.

  Excuses to Make When Your Child Finds

  His/Her Art in the Recycling Bin

  Honey, that’s not the recycling bin. I’ve been using it to transfer my most treasured items upstairs for storage!

  Ugh! I told your dad that was IMPORTANT!

  The picture you drew yesterday was soooo much better than the one you drew last week! I didn’t think you wanted to keep the old one around.

  I’m so sorry! I thought that was your brother’s!

  I’m just trying to save the planet, sweetie. You know, for your future.

  I’m recycling it so its beauty will be with us forever! Every time I drink a can of soda or use a paper bag from now on, I’ll be thinking of your beautiful art!

  That’s the garbage collector’s Christmas gift, honey! He’ll LOVE it!

  Lie #22

  MOTHERS HAPPILY SHARE

  Sometimes, I want to act just like my toddler twins. That’s mine! Give it back! Not fair! Stop taking my things! And then I remember I’m the mother and nothing actually belongs to me anymore.

  —Scary Mommy Confession #257102