“AM I DOING THIS RIGHT?” MODERN PARENT CONTEST
A Daily Question
I am not my mother. I realized this long ago. My mother was one that was willing to sacrifice everything for her children — even if it meant getting a beatdown from our father. I am not my mother. If a man lays a hand on me, I know I am going to jail.
I am hard on men. I see my father in every man that I meet. If they are tall, they remind me of my father. If they are loud, they remind me of my father. If they have a mustache and/or beard, they remind me of my father. I know it’s not fair to the men, but trauma does strange things to the psyche.
Get Shirley Jones Luke’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
I know I’m not doing motherhood the way my mother did. She sacrificed. I believe in self-care. My mom worked a job and then worked at home. She took care of other people’s children and then took care of her own. I only think of my children. When I’m with other people’s children, I think of what they need through what my children would need. When I’m at home, I only want to veg out on the couch and watch tv until the tv watches me.
Am I doing this right? Motherhood? I am not my mother. She came of age when women were just starting to increase their numbers in the workforce. Getting married right after high school was still the norm. My mother was young and married our father before she had a chance to find herself. I waited well into my twenties before getting married. I spent most of that decade running the streets in search of all the fun that could be had.
I don’t know if I’m doing this right. But I know that I love being a mother. When my children laugh, I feel only joy. When my children see me working, they know it’s important to me. My oldest recently said that he wants to be an art teacher. He wants to work with young children and show them how fun art can be. As a teacher, I am happy that he wants to join the profession. As a mother, I worry that he’ll be challenged by other people’s children.
I am not my mother. I did not defer my dreams for the sake of my children and my husband. I do not allow my body to be a punching bag. But I am my mother when it comes to supporting my children and not letting them experience the trauma I endured during my childhood. They don’t see roaches coming out of cereal boxes, mice crawling on their blankets, or neighbors harassing them.
I am my mother. I love my children more than anything else. Am I doing this right? I ask myself this question every day. When I wake in the morning and as I close my eyes at night. But each day I get up and let my mother's spirit, my grandmother’s wisdom, and my ancestor’s teachings guide me. I am my mother. I am my grandmother. I am all the women that came before me. Am I doing this right? Yes. Yes, I am.
