The Illusions Around The Parenting Experience

Before I start, I want to say as always, this is based on observations from my perspective. I know not everyone sees things in this light, and there are a million perspectives on this topic, but something hit me today while I was watching one of my favorite people on Instagram. Just to give her a shoutout, her account is @Celinaspookyboo and she is amazing! She’s raw, she’s real, and seeing her blossom is really amazing.

Anyway, she shared a clip from her podcast where she talks about the trials and tribulations of becoming a new mom via surrogate. First of all, I don’t think it matters if you carry the baby or not, when you use a surrogate, that baby is yours. It’s your DNA, and I’ve seen too many times how the mother who didn’t carry the child will act and assume the role as if she did. It’s what the body does.

So as she was speaking, I could feel the realness and honesty behind her words. She talks about how life as a new mom is tough, and she has faced things she never thought would happen. As a mom myself, 11 years in, I’ve had quite a few awakenings, and each one of them more shocking than the last. When you have children, your whole world changes. Everything about you changes, both inside and out. It’s one of those things that you could never understand until you do it.

Parenting rocks you to your core.

Let’s talk now about these awakenings.

Realizing every time you told yourself, “I’ll never be that parent,” you were telling yourself a complete lie.
Realizing every time you thought you would have all the tricks, you were telling yourself a complete lie.
Realizing every time you promised to always be patient with your child (because your parents were never patient with you), you were telling yourself a complete lie.
Realizing every time you thought you knew their quirks, you were telling yourself a complete lie.

Basically, parenting is lying to yourself over and over again and falling flat on your face.

Parenting is also the good stuff… The hugs, the excitement, the childlike wonder and joy. Those things are what make the journey worth it, but sometimes the journey seems like all odds are stacked against you. Especially in a society where divorce rates are rapidly growing, technology is booming, our economy is collapsing (not just crashing), standard education is not only based on false history, but sending your kids to school is downright frightening for some people, parents are working multiple jobs, not able to spend dedicated time with their kids, and our children are forced to grow up way beyond what their growing brains and nervous systems can handle.

This is the stuff that often gets buried under the glitter of parenting. Where you see the white suburban family, all dressed in church clothes, straight teeth, polished hair, glowing skin, hell, maybe throw in a dog, slap ‘em on their perfectly manicured front lawn, and you’ve got yourself the vision of family in America, ya’ll.

Did I gag loud enough for you to hear me?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging. I’m observing. There is an obvious agenda to whitewash America, and not only that, to make white people into villains, as we’ve been so many times. People look at that typical family and legit want to vomit. Why?

Because it’s fake. It’s put there as an illusion of perfection, and because of this whole “Keeping Up With the Joneses” movement, it’s what every white family strives to be, along with other cultures that have been forced into thinking that’s what success looks like. Because if you look any different than that photo in the magazine, there could be opportunities for dangerous situations to occur.

But if we know it’s fake, why do we still hide? Why do we still “pretty up” our life to make us appear certain ways to certain people? We must ask ourselves, why do we do this? And once you find that answer, how are you still playing in that game? What stops you from turning the game off?

I know, as a woman who grew up in a toxic family, I didn’t want to seek wise counsel from my them That was a hard pass. I also saw the family of my friends doing their own song and dance too, so I didn’t want to ask them either. Most of the women I grew up watching were subservient. They didn’t push the boundaries, and most of them felt so scared to talk about their real feelings that I could never get honest feedback from them.

Then I married into a family, and because I love my husband so much, I didn’t see the cracks at first. My husband and his siblings call their mom “a saint,” and she damn sure acted like it. Always happy, always smiling, always trying to help in the ways she can. She loves everything in her life fiercely. Her children, her church, her community, and family… When I would listen to her talk about her kids, I genuinely believed they never had hard days. I had this vision of her in my mind of some superhero that’s able to do everyone’s laundry, cook everyone’s dinner, do everyone’s dishes, clean the house, keep the garden, all while working overnight shifts?? What?!

But then I started noticing something… I would compare myself to this vision of her I made in my head. Not really knowing what those days were like with three young kids all growing up at the same time, around the same age. With the stories she told, along with her husband, I thought there was a way I could create a life where I didn’t feel pain, depression, and overwhelm, because it appeared that she had it mastered.

I’ll branch off to say that for a while, I did not have many friends in my early days of being a mom. I had one solid friend who was and still is amazing, but no other women in my life. I had no idea what other women like me were feeling. All I could do was go off of what I saw and observed, much like every other thing in my life. I often joke that I never learned the “Earth rules,” and I especially felt that way as I watched other women (including my mother-in-law) glide through life with a smile on their faces while I felt like I was drowning.

I just started reading a book, I Was Told There’d Be A Village. The author speaks of the loneliness sweeping through mothers and families right now. She brings up that we used to have villages. For thousands of years, we sustained these villages and lived in connection with each other. Now most of our village is gone. Families live in different states, close friends live hours away, and even if you do have a solid friend group, it’s so difficult to nurture those relationships when you’re working, taking care of the house, raising children, building your marriage, and paying the bills. That’s the bare minimum, and I’m exhausted already by all the commas I just used. It’s a lot being a parent in this “modern” society. Bluh. I hate to even call it that. I bet we could come up with new definitions for it.

This is where it really gets hard - What if you have family or friends close by, but you’re the only one growing? What then? The villagers don’t even know how to act with each other anymore. Parents are still treating their adult children like teenagers, nitpicking every move, pushing God/church, projecting worries, or downright abusing them verbally and emotionally. For me, this is the case, and I’ve had to pack my bags and leave my village because of it. The stress of everyday life is enough. You really hope to find peace within the unit you were born into, but sometimes that’s just not the case. No matter how many deep talks you have, no matter how many boundaries are set, no matter how much compassion you have for them…

Sometimes it just doesn’t work.

This is the stuff no one prepared me for, and I’m finding it’s happening to so many millennials right now. None of us knows how to communicate anymore, and the younger generations would much rather chat over texts or gifs than be together in person. It’s such a weird time! We were told to “pick ourselves up by our bootstraps,” and “anything they can do, I can do better… I can do anything better than you.” First off, the bootstraps are gone, and secondly, I really don’t care who I’m “better” than. I just want us all to live a free life. The generations before us got to rely on the promise that their pay through Social Security would be there after retirement. And us? What retirement?? They got to buy homes with low interest rates for a whopping $40,000. Now the median price of a home in America is almost $500,000. That is insanity.

Things just aren’t what they used to be. But instead of complaining about it, what can we do?

The answer is clear: Get our village back

But accept that the village may look different these days. It may not be large, and it doesn’t have to be. Find a solid group of people that will anchor you when you need them the most. Find people who love your kids and wouldn’t mind watching them every now and then. Maybe meet some couples you could go on double dates with.

“What if I’m not social?”

I love this. Me neither, dawg. Me neither. Peopling is by far the hardest part of this human experience. I worked really hard to get a big village, but now I’ve had to scale back because it was way too much for me to keep up with. I want to know people deeply, and that takes time and lots of energy. So now I’ve moved on from the idea of growing a large village, and I’m enjoying solitude a little more every day. I believed for a while that “village” meant lots of people, all doing different things. It could absolutely mean that for some, but not for me. It was too much. If you’re not social, give yourself some grace. The world is tiring, and sometimes you just need space alone with your family.

Moving into this new world is terrifying and exciting. We have so many more opportunities now, but sometimes the pressure can become a little much. If you find yourself ever comparing yourself to the Instagram moms, please put the phone down. I’m not even sure if all of those people are real. And if you start comparing yourself to the older generation, who seem to run on an endless well of energy, take a step back. Their world looks way different than yours. The best thing you can do is your best, with the capacity you have. Grace is a great friend. You’re doing a fantastic job!