Mothers have a reputation (especially in movies and television!) for being martyrs. “Oh, I’ve given you so much—life, food, everything you ever wanted,” a mother moans, “and now you won’t even come to Sunday dinner! I see how you repay working my fingers to the bone, my 352 hours of laboring with you, the 15 years of bedwetting, I see what that all meant to you.”
As children of mothers, naturally, just about everyone hates these characters. Yeah, we laugh, but it’s a knowing laugh. We’ve seen mothers or perhaps even had our own mothers act that way—woe is me, I reared you, it was hard and you’re ungrateful.
And I think we’ve had such a strong reaction to this cultural archetype of the mother as martyr that any complaining about how hard it is to be a mom makes some people say (or at least think) “Oh, quit being a martyr.” (I also like the backhanded compliment, “Glad you got over being a martyr.” Thanks.)
Another stereotype in the media (that’s gotten to be passé, but still persists) is the mom who does everything for everyone all the time (except herself) and is smiley and happy and overjoyed. This one, I think, is even less rooted in reality, unless you’re stuck in 1957. Oh, and TVLand. (Or, like in this archive photo, it’s your first baby’s first birthday.)
Although that image isn’t portrayed as often these days, it’s still ingrained an impossible standard that persists today—if you don’t love every second of motherhood, you’re a bad mother, you must hate your children, and you’re just voicing your discouragement because you’re a helpless martyr (who was, apparently, too stupid to realize that you were never meant to have children in the first place).
This lie is insidious. Pernicious. As a society, we have subconsciously accepted this expectation for years—decades. A good mother is always happy, and it is only a bad mother who ever complains (and then, she’s trying to emotionally blackmail her grown children into her outrageous demands—which just goes to show how bad she is.).
But acknowledging our struggles with motherhood doesn’t make us less of a mother—or more of a martyr. It’s okay to acknowledge that my ten-month-old has been grumpy and fussy for five days and by the time my husband gets home I can hardly stand to hear her and I really not into playing trains. It doesn’t mean I’m not right where I belong or that I hate my children or even that I hate motherhood. It just means that it’s hard for me—and that’s okay.
So go ahead and vent: here, on this post, and always. There are no judgments or competitions here—and there are no bad mothers or martyrs.
What are you dealing with right now?
Photo by Dez Pain
8 replies on “Of martyrs and mothers”
Well this week has been better, but Davin is a busy baby into everything. I totally lost it when he unrolled his 3rd full roll of TP the other day. I had to remember that he’s only 1 and doesn’t understand. I just have to be extra vigilant that I shut the bathroom doors ALWAYS. Weston, who was day time potty trained for months, has decided he doesn’t like pooping in the potty anymore. Ugh. SO frustrating. I just want to smack him sometimes. Once again, he’s 3. Gotta remember they are just so little. I have been praying more and trying to get more sleep and exercise. I liked this post. Sometimes I do feel like a big fat whiner when I try to vent to my hubby. Other moms understand my venting more. It’s not like I am actually going to harm my kids or that I don’t love them, but sometimes I don’t like them all that much.
I totally understand, Shannon! I hope tomorrow is a better day!
To the glaring people in public:
Yes, I have three children. No, I’m not trying to destroy the planet by “overpopulating.” I might even have more. And just because my four year old is whining for chicken nuggets doesn’t mean that I’m a bad mother who is incapable of handling three boys. So stop glaring at me and asking, “are they ALL yours?!?” as if I’m the mother of enough kids to make a pro football team and single handedly destroying the world as we know it because I’m obviously making more of a dent than you and your mcmansion air conditioned house and heated pool.
Hmm, does ranting lend to run on sentences or is that just me and my crazy brain?
And I hate sweeping. But it has to be done at least three times a day if not more.
I think that’s enough outta me:)
My 6-yr-old was asking about whether we’ll have another baby. Her best friend’s mom is, and she thinks it’d be cool. Then her older sister pointed out that a baby would take up a lot of Mom’s time.
And our youngest said, “Mom never has time for me anyway.”
Ouch. So our trips to the library, the park, cooking and reading together, and all those other things haven’t made a dent? Urgh.
@Lindsey—Why sweep? Seriously, isn’t that what toddlers are for? 😉
@Annette—Okay, speaking as the oldest, the youngest has all of your time and attention anyway, and all they ever want is more. (um, just kidding if you read this, Jasmine 😉 .)
I have been struggling not to feel overwhelming guilt for the dishes piling up in the sink and the floors that need mopped and the meals that have been imperfectly planned. It is easy to feel like everyone else has it together, and that I’m just coming up short.
Alicia—You’re stressing about “imperfectly planned” meals? Most people don’t plan meals at all!
I’m of the opinion that if you have to choose between spending time with your kids/for yourself/sleeping and chores, column A should always win. Of course, my husband does the dishes and we’re testing one of those deals-to-meals shopping/planning programs right now, so I can’t complain too much.
Motherhood is hard … very, very hard. But I, too, enjoy it … and yes I still complain about it. Excellent post!