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Mother, Lover, and Worker

The impossible triangle.

By Caroline EganPublished 2 years ago 6 min read
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Mother, Lover, and Worker
Photo by Dakota Corbin on Unsplash

Before I start ranting here, I’d just like to say that I like being a mam. My kid can be a pain in the arse, but I am happy that I have him and love him unconditionally. That said, I think it should be OK to give out about your kid wrecking your buzz without feeling guilty. It’s not this perfect little bubble of joy.

And that, my friends, is the main point to this hopefully structured and coherent rant about being a mam. Feeling guilty and being a mother are two things that inhabit that little bit of a Venn diagram. They overlap so much.

Society bombards mothers with imagery of the self-sacrificing mother. She has no needs or identity of her own. She is always putting her child ahead of herself.

Those who dare to venture outside of those parameters… well, they’re not very good mothers are they?

You can be perfect and have it all, right? Oh wait, you have it all; you’re doing it wrong!

But no matter what the media will tell you, whatever you are doing, staying at home, working, or even choosing not to have kids, that you are doing it wrong.

Specifically, in my instance as a younger mother (he’s nearly an adult now), I felt like the media was constantly pushing all of these insidious messages about people like me. Things like articles in newspapers talking about children who go to crèches being stunted emotionally or making women who don’t want to or can’t breastfeed feel like monsters. I still notice it today because once you see it, you can’t ever unsee it.

I used to thoroughly study the concept of Good Mother versus Bad Mother from an academic point of view. A good mother is the quintessential martyr — no longer with a sexual identity and incapable of considering self-fulfillment outside the home. A bad mother is… well… a bad mother seems to be me.

The thing is, I recognise that even the concept of a ‘good’ mother in this generation is an illusion, a cultural throwback to more restricted and defined gender roles. I still want to scream ‘get off your cross’ at the idea of it, but I can’t and couldn’t help but feel guilty.

I have needs, and while I generally put my child’s needs before my own, I know I have to look after myself, have some fun and continue to grow to be the best version of myself. Does that make me a bad mother? I know it shouldn’t, but it definitely makes me feel that way.

Parenthood, particularly motherhood, is often belittled by those that don’t have any or have very little input into raising children.

YES, crying children are annoying.

YES, nappies really do smell like rancid dog food when squished up your child’s back.

YES, children can be cheeky.

So what, though?

When you can feel the judgemental looks in the supermarket while dragging your child along the ground because he won’t get up, you have to ask yourself ‘who made you judge and jury?!’

They’re not judging the kid being a brat, either. Oh no, they’re judging you and your lack of control of the situation. No matter what you do, you’re a bad mother.

Also, anybody who says that being a mammy isn’t a real job should be punched in the crotch. Especially if they don’t have any themselves.

People are so fricking judgey, and honestly, I’m a judgemental bitch.

Oh, and another thing, if I want to post pictures of my child on Facebook, I will because I’m proud of him.

Now I know plenty of women can achieve complete fulfillment from being a full-time mammy. Great. And I do not mean that condescendingly at all. That’s their choice, and if feminism has taught me anything, it’s that there should be a choice to it.

In saying that, though, that is not me. There would be a vacuum right in the pit of my tummy that no cake or child alike could fill if that was what I was faced with, but that would never have been a decision I would have made.

Not to get all ‘OH LOOK AT HOW GREAT I AM,’ but when I was pregnant, I was in my last year of a college degree. Lecturers constantly asked me to defer, but I wouldn’t. Sure, what else would I be doing? Sitting at home all fat sweating cake from every pore?! Anyway, I stayed and finished with great results, mostly out of stubbornness. Maybe it was more a case of reverse psychology, which I believe works well on me. So, I wanted to be the same person that I was before I had him.

There is this theory that you cannot be a ‘whore’ (a girl who likes having sex), mother, and successful worker (or be an achiever) at the same time.

I think you can. It’s just society has us brainwashed to believe that if you are a mother, you definitely cannot be all three. Granted, being a successful single mother with a good sex life would be a pretty difficult situation to balance. Still, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be allowed to try.

In my experience, compartmentalizing worked really well, but that still means that I can never be all things at once. Everything is separate, which means that I’m any of those three things but only one at a time. That makes everything a bit awkward and difficult and tiring. Being a mother should not be the key or only component to your identity — it should only be a facet.

Even if you are a stay-at-home mammy (which, again, is cool as long as you want to be), you should still make sure to do things you enjoy. Sometimes you have to put yourself first, even for a second, and the knock-on effects for your kid will be there. If you’re happy, your kid has a greater chance of it too. I’m not saying to go out on the beer every night, but making sure you feed all dimensions of your character is vital to keeping your contentment up.

I have personally enjoyed working and studying with a bit of socializing to keep myself mentally active. I like being busy. If I wasn’t using my brain this way, it would make me depressed. And I even consider writing and learning as important as being a mother when it comes to my identity.

Please try to not completely lose yourself in motherhood, it can drown you — and when your little ones eventually leave, you won’t remember who you were without them.

We’re either demonized or put on a pedestal, depending on how giving we are. I know it’s stupid, but it’s there. Because every time I go to the pub or think about how poor I am writing or have an urge for some ‘companionship,’ (ahem) I think about how a ‘good mother’ wouldn’t do that.

A good mother would be at home, sitting silently in the kitchen in the dark, never sleeping, waiting for her kid to wake up.

If you like what you read you could tip me, or you can buy my book Fahckmylife 2: The Devil’s Doorbell here.

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About the Creator

Caroline Egan

Hailing from Dublin, Ireland, Caroline has a variety of published fiction and non-fiction, written in a wry style on all things nerdy and neurotic. Her collection of essays Fahckmylife: The Little Book of Fahck, is available on Amazon.

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