The other day, my mindless Facebook scrolling led to an article about how it's unexpectedly difficult to be a stay at home mom. Of course, that make the working moms lose their crap, which made the stay at home moms feel attacked, and it was basically the wonderful representation of humanity that you expect all comment sections to be.
Except for one thread, which was a group of women about my parent's generation. It started off with a post saying, "I don't know what girls these days are always complaining about. I was a stay at home mom for X number of years and I never felt this way! I loved every minute of it." The rest of the comments were women agreeing with her that they didn't understand it.
So, if you've ever thought this, I'm here to try to help you understand it.
The thing is, we are living in completely different times. I'd argue we've gone back to the dark ages, regressed back to a time when basic civility towards people was unheard of. People are tarred and feathered via social media these days, and honestly, I'm not sure it's much less painful.
Case in point: I saw a post on the Tremonton Classifieds yesterday (which I can't find now because the entire group has been shut down.) about a mom who found a 3 week old baby left alone in a car at the Kent's parking lot. She broke a window, got the baby out, and called the police. When the parents came out, they were apparently upset about the window. Oh, and then she went home and posted about it on Classifieds, and that's an important part of the story so stick with me.
I get that terrible things happen. I am an Enneagram 6, but I don't actually think I am. 6's are mostly known for their anxiety, and I truly don't believe I ever would have tested as a 6 before having children. Since having my first, I live in a constant state of anxiety. Every sketchy person at WalMart is trying to kidnap them. There's going to be a mass shooting in every crowd we're in. It's a terrible way to live! Tell me you would have enjoyed parenting back in the day if you felt this way all the time. And we tell new parents to ask for help, to sleep when the baby sleeps, to watch out for postpartum depression, to ask for help ask for help ASK FOR HELP. But guess what? The help is scarce. Sometimes it's impossible to find. And it's a fine line between asking for help before it's too late, and people shouting on Facebook that you should have your children taken away.
I mean, can we just be a little more careful with how we say someone should have their children taken away? Can we agree that's the extreme solution no one is actually rooting for? Facebook is not a place for a jury of your peers, but each post like this is calling someone out and putting them on trial and frankly it's not usually anyone's business.
When my second baby was about two weeks old, I took both my boys to the park. I was drowning in guilt over turning my three year old's life upside down, and how we weren't getting enough sunshine and therefore enough vitamin D, and trust me when I say a trip to the park is always about more than a trip to the park.
My three year old is naturally anxious (gee, I wonder where he's learning that from) but he decided to be brave and climb to the top of the highest slide. Once he got there, he froze. He screamed and screamed, unable to go forward or backward he just stood at the top, immobile. I was holding my new baby in my arms and watching nervously. I hadn't even brought the wrap for the baby. The carseat was in the car. I seriously considered just setting him down in the sand.
But the crazy thing is, there were people around, watching all this happening. No one offered to help, they just sort of watched.
So, I did what I had to do, or what I thought I had to do. I started climbing up after him. This slide, of course, was at the top of a completely vertical climb, which I was doing one-handed. When I was halfway up, my foot slipped. My heart completely dropped. I was going to fall with my baby.
I flung my arm out and managed to catch myself with my arm. I felt like it was broken. I had a giant bruise for weeks. But my baby was ok. And only then did a dad from across the park come running over and offer to help.
At the time, I was humiliated. What was I thinking, putting my baby in danger like that? What was I thinking letting my three year old climb up there? What was I thinking even leaving the house that day? But now, I just think... why did it take a dad, in a park full of moms, to see my need? To offer to help?
We are so quick to judge another parents situation. So many of the comments on that classifieds post were, of course, ripping the parents apart for leaving their baby in the car. But all I could think was: there are about a thousand reasons that could have happened, and we're only hearing one side of the story. All I could think was, I've done stupid things all the time, in the name of pregnancy hormones or sleep deprivation or just plain not knowing any better. But this is already the hardest job in the world, so why can't we ever just reach out and help each other?
It's supposed to take a village to raise a child, not to take one away from it's parents when they make a public mistake.
I'm so tired of worrying that other moms are judging me when my kid is screaming in the store. I'm tired of the playground and storytimes being a place we glare at each other instead of trying to make friends. I'm tired of hearing that if someone is going to make a mistake, they shouldn't have had kids in the first place.
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe, those parents thought you know that baby we just spent nine months making and a very difficult and painful day delivering? Well he's been keeping us up all night, so we should go meander the aisles of Kent's and leave the baby in the car because we don't care about him.
I don't believe people are that black and white, that bad or good. I believe we're all trying our best. And frankly, I'm glad there are people in the world like the lady who saw that baby and cared. I love to think that there are other people looking out for my children, too.
But can we just suspend the judgment? Can we stop posting about it on Facebook for validation, or because we're angry? (Ok, I'm a little angry posting this, so go ahead and call me the pot or kettle, your choice.) Could we maybe instead try to see each other as fellow humans going through something really hard?
Because I love being a mom. I can't imagine my world without my boys in. But sometimes I wish I could just be a mom twenty years ago, instead of today.
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