A Mother of a time. [Deep yoga breath here. And maybe another…three.]
05/09/2021 - Lynne Robertson
Last year’s Mother’s Day is one I wish to never repeat. One-for-the-history-books horrendous.
Not because of a screaming fight or house fire or some other “real” reason. But because of its off-the-charts apathetic non-ness. Nothing big I could point to and say, “That. That is the reason my Mother’s Day was so bad.” Just the kind of day you want to forget because it seems you’ve been forgotten.
Sure, the Covid situation probably factored in, dampening the expected level of festiveness. And granted, there were a few cards, but one wasn’t even signed, so does that still count? In fairness, my out-of-town daughter did send flowers, but the boys put forth minimal effort and zilcho thought. Not that I need a full-on parade with tuba players, or a surprise backyard circus or anything. Just SOMEthing would’ve been nice. Proof that a few minutes of energy went into making this ONE day a little less just like every other ordinary day.
So I did what any injured matriarch would do. Graciously forgave them and baked a batch of their favorite cookies? Well. No. More like stewed silently, hovering like a dark storm cloud throughout the day.
I woke up the next day, still mad – now in Stewing Phase 2 – and stormed off to my car to escape those ungrateful savages, driving aimlessly as I mentally (and sometimes not so silently) tallied all the ways I had been wronged. Upon my return, I found day-old posies from a last-ditch trip to the flower shop, and aptly contrite apologies for the extreme thoughtlessness. Never one to decline a peace offering, I muttered a begrudging thank you, sans eye contact, to send the message that my stew-sesh was winding down, but not done yet.
After the righteous indignation wore off and my mad-dial cooled down from Boiling to Simmer mode, I ruminated on three potential reasons I had been so woefully neglected:
I am a terrible Mother, unworthy of laud and honor.
I had not properly modeled homage-giving behavior.
I should be selfless in my work and not expect overt appreciation.
So, let’s break those down, one at a time:
I am a terrible Mother.
I probably have been terrible at times, but overall, I think I’d score consistently above average. On the performance curve, I’ve met at least the basic requirements: My kids are still alive, they are not a drain on society (so far), they are sweet to their grandmother, and are generally presentable.
I do not properly model.
Ok, no way. There’s nobody that delivers on the special days like I do. There are gifts, special meals, loving texts and sickeningly effusive social media posts. I also happen to be the Queen of Cakes (homemade BTW). And all of this special-occasion fuss happens ON the day, without reminder or complaint, no matter how inconvenient.
I should be selfless and not expect accolades.
While the first two were fairly easily, psychically set aside, this one hung me up. Selflessness has long been the attribute ascribed to good Mothers, and good leaders for that matter. But what does it mean, really? The all-enlightening Google defines it as “Concern more with the needs and wishes of others than with one's own.” In other words, putting everyone else before yourself. Which in theory, sounds noble – but in practice, is a recipe for self-destruction.
And let’s not fall back on the metaphor about putting your own oxygen mask first. If the mother ends up breathing and the baby turns blue, things would not end well for the Mother. She would be vilified and convicted in the court of public opinion, if not a criminal one. And if, as Mothers and leaders, our highest duty is to always subsume ourselves for the benefit of others, we can never achieve our own self-actualization. We cannot begin to understand what drives our own motivation, desires and ultimate happiness, if we are constantly in service of everyone else.
After a time, the spirit tank will run dry. We will become resentful and petulant, and storm out to drive aimlessly around, cursing those around us for not understanding what we need even though we have never expressed those needs and may not even quite know ourselves what they are. Leaders can’t lead effectively if they’re spiritually and physically empty. And that’s what happens when we don’t pay attention to our own human barometers. Because like it or not. That’s what we are. Humans. With needs that need tending to now and then.
Maybe a better definition of selflessness would be less of an either/or – and more of a “both” situation. A balance of ours and theirs. “Concern AS MUCH with the needs of others AS WITH one’s own.”
Striking that balance can be a bit hard to parse, and the equilibrium can and will tilt on a daily (hourly?) basis thanks to life’s love of surprises – unexpected events, ailments and everyday pressures in general. But striving for balance helps keep the tilt from completely capsizing your ship.
A wise mentor once told me to “guard my mortal coil.” Sounds like a mashup of Shakespeare and shop class. Also, where might one find the manual or tips for said mortal coil guarding?
For starters, let’s roll with these:
Reveal what you want.
Sounds selfish. It isn’t. It’s forthrightness in the name of self-preservation. High achievers aren’t very good at this, as it can feel needy to us self-sufficient Type A’s. Try dosing it out a bit at a time. Need a breather to clear your head? Take it. If only for a 15-minute walk around the office, or dining room or block. With practice, you’ll find the benefits far outweigh the guilt.
Set reasonable expectations. For you and others.
You’re no good, if you’re not good. Give yourself some grace and do what you can right now. And when you can do more, do that. Energy and intellectual capital ebb and flow. Just like the tides. Nobody expects a boat to get out into the harbor if it’s stuck in the sand bar. Give it some time to find its way out again. And know that people in your life are going to fall short. Because guess what? They’re also human. And not mind readers. Give them some grace too.
Be service-minded, but not self-sacrificial.
Understand the boundaries that work for you, and be a stickler. Hold to those limits. There’s a service component of being a parent and a leader, but it’s not your sole role. The saner you are, the better served you are to meet the needs of others. It’s important to create space in your life for discovering exactly what you need to fuel the most energized and effective version of yourself.
Make this Mother’s Day weekend easier on everyone (yourself included) and stop striving for some pseudo-saintly level of selflessness. Be a straight-shooter willing to speak up in terms of your needs and expectations. And whatever you do, don’t forget to sign the card.
