Competitive Moms Not Allowed

Moms. We're hard-wired to want the best for our children.

We want to see them shine.

We want them to feel loved and so incredibly special. 

And so we commit what I think is possibly one of the worst mommy crimes possible. We become that mom. The competitive one. We all know at least one of these mothers. They boast on social media about how their precious Francois is potty-trained and at ten months to boot! Attention all other mommies: bring on the insecurity.

These moms just can't wait to tell you about how smart their sweet little Brittany is, how she is writing her name already at two, asking oh-so-innocently whether you've begun teaching your little one how to write. After hanging out with them, you inevitably feel like your child is a total failure, you somehow have sub-par genes, and like you are quite possibly the world's worst mother. I mean, you'd have to be to send your child to Kindergarten without bouncy curls complete with a homemade bow in her hair. How could you have failed to cut her sandwich into the cutest little heart shape, or not seen the importance of the picture-perfect first day outfit, sure to make all other five-year olds wish they had a mom as awesome as you??

Newsflash: Nobody likes you, Competitive Mom.

I've always wanted to say that. Gee, thanks for raining on my parental parade with your not-very-subtle comparison of our children in which mine comes up lacking. Thanks for constantly gushing about how great life is and how perfect your child is, making me wonder if my in-house meltdowns with my toddler are a result of something I'm doing wrong or some personality disorder in my two-year old. 

In a world filled with mothers with so much self-doubt, insecurities about doing things right, and undeserved criticism over our methods of parenting, the last thing we mommies need is other moms making us feel like we are somehow failing because our kids aren't "up-to-speed" with theirs in one way or another.

I got sucked into a group of mommies like this early on in my mothering years. I showed up to a group play-date, and the topic of the day was early potty-training. After hearing about how the Queen Competitive Mommy's daughter was completely potty-trained at twenty-two months, I set out on a mission to achieve similar results. At eighteen months I had my daughter sitting on her mini-potty watching thirty minutes of "Elmo's Potty Time," waiting on edge, with bated breath for the sound of tinkling. We did this every day.

Three months later I had a hysterical child who hated Elmo's Potty Time, had a major meltdown at the very sight of a potty, and my nerves weren't just frayed, they were shattered.

What was I doing wrong?

Nothing.

Here's the thing about parenting and children that goes completely over competitive mom's head - 

Every child is different. Their needs are different, their development is different, and your parenting will have to adapt because of it.

I have two children and I have parented them in two different ways, because their personalities dictated altering my approach. Allowing yourself to get sucked into a game of comparison does nothing but put unnecessary stress on yourself as an evolving parent, and on your child, as a developing individual.

A few years has brought me the wisdom to understand -  Competitive Mommy is just as insecure as every other mother out there. She hides her fears in overachieving and bragging about her offsprings' accomplishments. But that doesn't make it okay, and it doesn't mean that I want to surround myself with that negativity.

So what can you do if you have a Competitive Mommy in your social circle?

Well, for starters, kill them with kindness. Knowing that Competitive Mommy is really just as insecure as you are, give her tons of encouragement and emotional support. Let her know that you think she's doing a great job.

Feel free to tell her politely that you don't like to compare your child to anyone else's, when she asks about where your little Megan is at developmentally or otherwise in comparison to hers.

Finally, if worse comes to worse - do like I did with the group of Competitive Mommies that were toxic to my emotional well-being as a parent and remove yourself from the equation. There are plenty of other moms out there who are eager for play-dates, companionship, and commiseration over their own fears. Honesty in any form of friendship is a beautiful thing, and if you can't find it in the midst of all the stifling overachieving, find someone who won't make you feel inadequate with your normalcy.

And if you're asking yourself if you ARE Competitive Mommy, it's not too late! You can change your MO and become supportive, honest about your day-to-day struggles as a mom, and encourage other moms to accept that they aren't perfect.

You can stop comparing your child to other kids out there.

Most importantly, you can become a better mom by letting go just a little bit. I promise you, your child will shine in their time with your love, attention, and encouragement.

The Mommy Trap

     It wasn't until I was sitting in my oral surgeon's office, looking at pictures of the tumor embedded in my jawbone that it hit me - I had fallen into the mommy trap. ... And worse, I wasn't happy with my life. 

     That made no sense. My life was great. I had an incredible amount of love in my life. Two beautiful children. A supportive husband who worked so that I could stay home. But if anyone asked me what I did, I got the deer-in-headlights look on my face, and quickly changed the subject, feeling miserable.

Over the last few years, I had become increasingly aware of a dissatisfaction with my role as a stay-at-home mom.

     And as I faced an uncertain future, the possibility of cancer terrified me, not just at the thought that my life might be over, but more at the possibility of dying with unachieved greatness, and unstrived-for dreams.

     

Before I continue, let me be clear: I love being able to stay home with my children.

     My mom stayed home with me for most of my childhood, and I still smile fondly over memories of kissed booboos and home-cooked meals. Staying home is a beautiful gift that I am grateful to be able to give my babies. But that doesn't mean that when I was in school I dreamt of changing diapers and watching Dora on loop all day long.

     When I was younger, I dreamt of Broadway. I wanted to sing, travel, and make my mark on the world. I wanted to write, share a piece of my soul with the public, and know that after I was gone, that part of my soul would live on.

     But when I got married, children became my priority. And once I had a baby, along with that precious six pounds of pure joy came the heavy burden of responsibilities, both financial and emotional, that being "mommy" brings. Through sleepless nights, days of teething, well-care visits, and the woes of breastfeeding, I almost instantly lost sight of my identity outside of "mommy."

I told myself it was only normal to be completely focused on my baby. I was a new mother. Once she got older, I would focus on myself a little more.

     Yet almost three years and another child later I had, if anything, gotten worse. When people asked me what I "did" for a living, my answer was - "Oh, I stay home with my children." Nobody knew about the words bouncing around in my brain, begging to be put to paper. I stopped telling people about how much I loved to sing, and moreover, how good I was at it. I constantly told myself that I would write that book, record that album, pursue those dreams when the kids were a little older.

     I had limited my friendships, either getting together with other moms and their kids, or getting out on my own and then talking exclusively about my darling children. Where was the sixteen year old dreamer that wanted to wow the world with her potential? Where were the conversations about her interests? 

She had fallen into the mommy trap.

     And it was only as I sat there, facing my mortality in the form of a small, painful lump near my chin that turned out to be a tumor that my mistake hit me full-force. There was more to me than "mommy." But I'd folded that part of me up, shoved it in a box, and tucked it away in a dark corner, because I had convinced myself that it competed with my duties as a mom. Singing on stage, or holing myself away for four hours while I wrote my next masterpiece didn't really gel with my idea of being a supermom. 

But life is short. And my "when the kids are older" attitude didn't take that into consideration.

     What if I had cancer? What if twenty-four years were all I got out of life, and I had wasted my chance at making the most of my talents because I had limited myself to only being mommy?

     Something had to change. And it did. I began to fight for me. It started with fighting for the best medical care, in the form of an ENT out-of-state who was experienced in surgeries like the one I was facing. During surgery it was confirmed that I did not have cancer, and when I got home (tumor-free,) I started writing while I recovered. I fought for more me time, reaching for my dreams, putting myself out there and facing the potential for failure.

     Three years later, I sing professionally with multiple choruses in my area. I'm the Director of Music for my local parish. I'm writing a book, and there's already been interest in the concept from a few editors/agents. I'm recording a non-profit CD. 

    I've climbed out of the mommy trap. But that doesn't mean that I'm not a great mom. I stay home with my girls while my husband goes to work. I homeschool my oldest daughter part-time, only sending her to private school two days a week. I'm present for the important moments, to watch my daughters as they grow, to comfort them when they hurt. My greatest fear, that having my own identity outside of mommy would lessen my ability to be a good mom was unfounded. 

It turns out I had been selling myself short.

     I was capable of so much more than I'd given myself credit for. And I'm proud to tell people when they ask about my singing, writing, and other creative outlets. Because at the end of the day, while being a mom is a huge part of who I am, there is still so much more to me than that. And I truly believe that allowing that part of me that isn't just a mom back out made me a much better parent, because I'm able to share this part of me with my daughters, encouraging them with my actions to strive for their dreams, no matter where they are in life.

If I could tell new moms one thing, it would absolutely be to steer clear of the mommy trap. Society convinces us we can't have it all, and they're wrong. You can. Moderation is the key.

     

   I'm happy to tell you that all post-checkups on my jaw have been positive. My jawbone has regrown, the indent where the tumor had dissolved the bone filling in. And I've found my happiness. In short, the mommy life has never been so good.