It’s Monday night and over the weekend I had an experience that rocked my world as a Mom. Yes, Grandma’s do over step their boundaries. How dare I walk around feeling like a superior Mom when at any moment that title can and will be tested.
I learned there’s no such thing as a great Mom.
Before I lose my entire following, let me say that I’m a damn good Mom and you are too! You’re reading my blog and that means you’re the shit to me.
My Mom and I attended an event for my daughter this weekend. It was one of those things where Grandma is the +1 instead of Dad.
Picture a nice gathering of kids and adults cheering on the accomplishments of the kids. Snapping photos, feeling proud, encouraging the talent, and just soaking up the moment.
All of a sudden, my daughter becomes sad about her performance and the small hiccup that no one noticed.
Time to step into gear Mom….baby girl needs your kind, encouraging words.
I never got a chance to deliver my greatest Mom donations of love because my daughter ran to her Grandma crying.
Cue heart breaking.
I watched the hug in slow-mo and thought how sweet, “OK, now it’s time to come on to Mommy”. In a matter of seconds, I had gotten so secretly hurt that I had to give my Mommy support as a rub on her tearful shoulders during the Grammy embrace.
I thought, ” What else can I do at this point?” For whatever reason, the little angel who always runs to Mommy wanted her Grandma instead. I had to be OK with that. Grandma’s are wonderful and very appreciated. Moving along.
Fast forward to the reception that came after the performance.
Dear Granny soaked up every minute of this attention. So much so that I could barely get in between them to hold my daughter’s hand.
Granny couldn’t step to the side for even a moment to allow me the opportunity to be what I am 24/7….. Her Mother. Her protector. Her confidante. Her provider.
My daughter noticed this but because she was still hurting about her error, she couldn’t process much less even realize what was going on.
It took every ounce of patience and pride to hold it together.
But I did.
As night fell, we all went our separate ways. My daughter home with me as usual, and Grammy on her way to her house.
While alone in the car, my secret anger was boiling. And I just couldn’t understand how the bond I’ve tried so hard to nurture was ripped from me in an instant. Just a little background….
I come from a decent background. No immediate family drug addictions, no childhood sexual abuse, emphasis on hard work and education, middle class family.
My daughter is involved in so many activities that my head is often spinning trying to balance it all.
I work and over the long years I’ve obtained a few college degrees. I also own a business and manage a team of beauty reps (mostly for fun).
But I am a single Mom. And there are times when I need Grammy to help with pick-ups when I’m working late.
After some soul searching, what happened this weekend is from a bond they shared over something I wasn’t always there for…. Because I was working.
One of the hardest things to do as a Momma is ask for help. Because then we have to live with the repercussions of that help.
I calmed down and tried to go about the evening as normal tossing myself into our nightly routine.
My daughter noticed my unusually quiet disposition and asked what was wrong.
One thing I’ve learned as a parent is to never tell your children they’ve hurt your feelings.
So instead we had a discussion about how proud I was of her and that I understood the bond she shared with her Grammy in that moment.
Grammy had been the one taking her to practice because I had to work most days.
But something else was wrong here.
I don’t ever remember getting that kind of loving support from my Mom the way she gave it to my daughter that day.
Growing up there were no “I’m proud of you’s” spoken, no “I love you’s” , no big bear hugs of pride. None of what my daughter was so fortunate to experience.
Often times it was a dry, emotionless exhale that another event was over. A sigh of relief that she had gotten me through the end of a year long activity.
Naturally I grew to feel as if I was a burden or never good enough for a heart felt praise.
Was I jealous? And if so, what was I really jealous over?
Twisted thoughts huh? I had to get myself together and fast! My daughter needed me to be stronger than what I was feeling.
So I buried all the childhood pain and continued on my mission of being what I perceive to be a great Mom.
Present in spirit, always willing to listen, never judging, open armed, and with kindness and encouragement.
I wanted to tell this story because I know I’m not alone in juggling these emotions. Your story may be different from mine. It may even be more riveting and hurtful.
In all of this, I learned that there’s no such thing as a great Parent. We are flawed. We get tired. We sacrifice. We make the tough decisions. We love and we hurt.
My mom did the best she could. As I’m doing now. And because she didn’t quite know how to give me the love, affection and approval, my daughter can now bask in her second chance.
Does Grammy need to allow me the opportunity to not make the same mistakes she did? Absolutely. And we’ll work on that.
Maturity is knowing how to fight your battles as a parent and with what weapons.
Thank you for being present and accounted for through my real life story telling blog. You can reach me on Instagram @nicolemaeavon.