Will Moms Ever Catch a Break?

Moms are losing their sh*t over summer vacation. And to no one's surprise, no one cares.

Moms are losing their sh*t over summers at home with their kids. If you can’t, or don’t want to, pay ridiculous camp prices—the cost of a babysitter also seems out of reach (who the hell do these high school girls think they are expecting $25/hour?)—and/or you don’t have family nearby or able to help out, then what exactly is the answer for modern-day moms needing childcare?

In a world where mothers are viewed as selfish for doing anything for themselves—God forbid—can someone please explain what the solution is here? For working mothers who are forced to line up an entire new schedule of childcare for three months. For stay-at-home moms who relied on that small, but oh so necessary, window of time each day dedicated to peace and quiet. For parents everywhere, really.

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Since the dawn of time, mothers have taken care of everyone around them, no questions asked, no complaining (until recently) leaving themselves—their needs, wants, desires, careers, hobbies, relationships—on the back burner. This was and is still expected of modern-day moms, and I don’t see it changing anytime soon.

Even the self-care and wellness boom—preaching the importance of taking care of oneself’s mental, physical and emotional health first and foremost—hasn’t done jack to move the needle forward in favor of the mothersphere. It’s disappointing.

Put your oxygen mask on first! They say. But do you think any sane mother would actually do that given that circumstance? Not a chance.

It is a mother’s duty to take care of her offspring, spouse and family pet, ensuring food is on the table, clothes are on backs and schedules are color-coded according to day, child, and extracurricular activity. But if moms are taking care of the kids—and the husbands and the households, let’s be frank here—who is taking care of them?

No one.

I used to feel guilty for admitting I was a stay-at-home mom. Unworthy of societal recognition because I wasn’t contributing to the workforce, with an added and particularly deep-seated white privilege complex.

And then someone wise once said to me: “It’s a privilege having the ability to stay at home with your kids, yes, but it’s also a privilege to be able to pay for childcare.”

This hit me like a ton of bricks. Why the hell have we been feeling guilty all this time? What do we have to feel guilty about, exactly? For putting our lives on hold to rear our ungrateful and precious beasts?

I felt both white hot rage and sweet relief upon hearing this. On one hand, it opened my eyes to the stark reality that all moms have it difficult no matter if they’re working, staying at home or vacationing in Bora Bora with their trusty nannies by their side. On the other hand, it pissed me off greatly that we are continuing to judge one another based on personal, financial, and lifestyle choices that our peers make for the betterment of their own families.

If the Mean Girls trope, “Calling each other sluts and whores just makes it okay for guys to call us sluts and whores” comes to mind, it’s because it’s the same thing. The longer we keep this judgmental bullshit up when we could be spending that energy supporting and helping our fellow moms out, the longer this vicious cycle of shame and guilt and judgment is going to keep perpetuating.

Then, once moms stop judging other moms, perhaps we could help society stop judging moms. Let me give you a real-life example.

You would think dropping my son off at tutoring sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. Wrangling a whiny baby and unruly toddler into the car to get him there on time isn’t even the hard part. The hard part is deciding whether to leave the emotionally-charged girls in the car for the two-minute duration of ensuring my son gets to where he needs to be safely, or dragging them into the library, one under each arm, wailing at the top of their lungs and disrupting every person in our wake, leaving a less than stellar impression on his tutor who is already wore out from back-to-back sessions with other kids.

Like almost everything in motherhood, it’s a lose-lose situation. And it’s bullshit.

I decide on the former.

I pulled up to the curb, put my four-ways on and walked my son up to his teacher, leaving my girls, as expected, screaming in the car. The guilt—on so many different levels—caking on thick in the middle of my chest with tears stinging my eyes.

I return to the car relieved I made it through that fiasco, only to be greeted with a woman in a car behind me throwing her hands up in the air because she had to wait four seconds to go around my parked car that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Parenting feels impossible sometimes because it is impossible sometimes. If we could all just cut each other some slack and put ourselves in the shoes of other people, namely mothers, I really think the world be a better place.

Thank you for reading.