1. I choose to place little emphasis on appearances hoping my children will feel loved for WHO they are rather than what they look like. I feel this is especially important for my girls to understand. So If they want to go out with unbrushed hair and holes in their trackies, then so be it. They know they are loved regardless.
2. I don't cook much simply because I don't enjoy it. Hubby does. It's important that my children see their parents doing things they enjoy.
3. As far as homework, bah! I am an unschooler at heart and the thought of giving kids homework when they should be out living, playing, exercising.... makes me cringe. I trust my children to know what they need to learn and I trust that they will learn what they need to know in their own perfect time.
My children are loved and nurtured deeply and I do my best to make parenting choices based on love rather than fear of the 'what ifs.' I homebirth. I breastfeed to term. I co-sleep. I hold my babies close in slings for as long as they need. I practice elimination communication........
But it was an experience that I had many years ago that really opened my eyes and had me truly value and embrace my role as mother.
I was in my late 20's and I had 2 children at that stage who were about 2 and 3 years old. I was restless, feeling bored being at home full-time and as though I was missing out on something that was happening 'out there.' I felt pretty trapped. So I began volunteering in a nursing home in Canberra called, Gininnderra Gardens. First, I taught art classes in the nursing hostel and then later accepted a job as a nurses aide in the nursing home. I lasted one shift (couldn't bare the way the residents were treated by the staff) but it was the most valuable 6 hours I could have hoped for.
There was a very elderly women there who had dementia and was wheelchair bound. On this particular evening, I walked past her room and heard her talking, sounded very agitated. She was saying, 'Oh, i'm such an idiot! I'm such a fool! Why can't I do it? WHY?' She was sitting in her wheelchair, leaning over to her left side, trying to retrieve a bag a green grapes from a rubbish bin beside her. She was so angry with herself for not being able to reach them. I walked to her side and gently explained that the grapes had gone bad which is why they were in the bin. I would fetch her something to eat if she wanted. Just then, another carer came in and told her it was bedtime, and helped her onto the bed. She was still quite up-set with herself, still mumbling words of self loathing and frustration. The other carer left and I remained by her side, stroking her hair, telling her she was wonderful, amazing, beautiful, loved. She began to relax and lay still, just listening. It was then that I noticed that her t shirt had risen up over her belly a little revealing silvery white stretchmarks typical of those left by pregnancy. It looked a lot like my own belly, only hers was much softer looking. And I realised, that that would be me one day. She had once been a mother of young children too, just like me. She too had given birth, nursed her baby in her arms, gazed lovingly for what felt like hours at her baby's perfect features, so beautiful it almost hurt. She watched her children grow and nurtured them along with way. And now, here she was, alone. In a nursing home and so angry with herself. It was heartbreaking. And it was one of the most valuable learning experiences of my life. It gave me the vision to see that this life as mother with young children is temporary. It's precious beyond anything else. It is bursting with moments of absolute joy and utter perfection that really cannot be equaled. I learned to appreciate what I had, while I had it and that was a priceless lesson indeed.
She taught me another great lesson as well. You see, I had this idea, that elderly people were a pretty together bunch. That they had had their whole lives to, well, get their shit together. But seeing this women, in her 80's, still with a mind-set of absolute loathing was a real eye opener. I saw women in the nursing hostel who took my art classes with a simmer attitude. They were critical of how they looked. This shocked me as I really thought that once in her old age, you'd be well beyond worrying about your appearance and focused on what really mattered.
Ultimately it was simply surrendering to motherhood with all its ups and downs, letting go of guilt, forgiving my parenting stuff-ups and just enjoying the ride that has me, finally, in a pretty contented place. It didn't happen over night. It was a series of lessons that took place over 13 years that got me here. And I still have bad days where wonder where the smartarse was who made me a mother is hiding so I can poke'em in the eye. But above all, I feel pretty darn good about this whole mama gig. I feel like I have really found my groove. I have days where I feel like a rock'in good mama goddess, and days where I yell and lose my cool and want to hide away and be alone. And the thing that makes me cool about motherhood is, I love me as a mum and I forgive myself when I get it wrong. I accept myself for who I am. Perfectly imperfect. And in doing so, my children see their mum as a human being who makes mistakes. So they know they can make mistakes too and mistakes are great! That's how we learn :D We forgive ourselves and move on.
So that's my motto for motherhood: Perfectly imperfect. It fits me very nicely :)