To all the bad mothers

I am a mother since almost 4 years and a mother of two since 1,5 years now.

I did baby led weaning; allowed free-movement; did co-sleeping; wore baby wearing; tried no-sugar and no-screens under two. I breastfed for 2 years; took my babies to work; had a floor-bed for them; organized a free-exploring room; read books to them since early age; sang songs; travelled with them. I buy them organic food; I don’t force them to kiss anyone; I take them to parks daily; I allow them to play in the rain, walk barefoot and go naked to the beach. I used mineral sunscreen; bathed them in a shantala; used almond oil for daycare and water wipes for diapers’ change. I exposed them to different kinds of music, took them to babies’ theatre and presented them to my friends. I had two natural and informed births, one of them at home; printed their pictures and made their photo albums. I keep them notebooks and organized a box for the postcards they receive. I openly show affection towards my babies’ father in front of them; we do role modeling showing tasks-sharing and we send letters with our infant’s drawings to the family. I read books about parenthood, follow Instagram pages with tips of all kinds for free upbringings and discuss with other mothers about those themes.

I am a mother since almost four years and I’ve been following pretty much all the things I’ve read it’s supposed to be good, ideal, perfect for babies. Perfect to make you feel as a good mother.

But yet sometimes — very often — I feel as if I am doing everything wrong, I feel I am being a bad mother, I feel tired of my role, I feel I lose my temper and I have no clue about what to do about my boys, their flying wooden toys and their damn un-eaten broccoli.

And now you can relax: nor I think the first paragraphs are a serious and cool list of personal achievements nor I am worried about the lousy mum I can sometimes be. This is just my open door to dive into what Maternity and its current perspectives can lead us.

I believe we can do everything right and yet feel as doing everything wrong. We can keep a (useless) checklist and use it to feel in the good way but having the right to know that there’s no such thing as right or wrong and that these are concepts that should be kept far, far away from the conscious task of Motherhood. (And get rid of that check-list as soon as possible).

Today, as I was celebrating Mother’s day, I can only say I am trying to go, step by step, away from any list of good-mothers-behaviours and that I am trying to learn how to do my own way, with my own flaws, my own discoveries, my own zigzag imperfect way.

I am listening to those who directly inspire me through their honest flaws. I am hearing constructive critics from close people and observing others doing it in their beautifully imperfect way. I am saying “I am sorry” when I feel I fail, without shame or guilt, just trying to honestly admit that sometimes I don’t have a clue of what to do, say or how to behave. And that’s me and that’s fine. I am trying to laugh out loud about my imperfections as a mother — a stupid sentence to say, a wrong answer, a bad mood face — and openly share them with others I trust. I am receiving other mother’s laughters too and other mother’s cryings too, and celebrating it all together, as we all feel exhausted of trying and failing to be “good mothers”.

I am acepting that sometimes we feel bad people (which is even worse then feeling bad mothers) and that is also ok and part of our walk in this crazy and amazing raw journey.

I have been slowly learning about the danger of trying to be perfect and trying to fit in patters that can only fell right when and if they truly come from inside.

Wearing responsible shoes or reusable diapers wont’t make us better Mothers. Allowing ourselves to truly express our anger, our discomfort, our needs and doubts, our “I can’t do it anymore, heeeeelp!” will probably get us closer. If not from “perfect maternity” at least from each other. From woman to woman, from Human to Human, with honesty and grace. Seeing ourselves and the others as imperfect companions trying to find a way and laughing about how we stumble in the process.

So for this after-Mother’s day, I promise to open a candy bar right in the morning, share it with these two small Human Beings to whom I call “sons” and allow them — and myself — a little bit of imperfect-&-tasty-out-of-guilt moment.

In praise of a discovery path that can feel tastier and braver than any pre-cooked raising recipe.