Am I a Bad Mom?

I ask myself that sometimes. Significantly more frequently lately, actually.

Normally I'm a self-confident person. I've worked hard to be a good mother. It's a job that really matters to me, and I've taken the time to read about it, to watch and ask other mothers about it, and to make conscious decisions about what kind of a mother I want to be. But lately this question keeps creeping into my thoughts, and I can't help wondering if it's there for a reason.

I know why it's there. It's there because this transition has been hard for our kids, and it shows. It's there because the teachers and the people in the office at the kids' school look at me a certain way (not a good way). It's there because much as he loves me, Aaron has mentioned some pretty serious doubts about the way I do things lately. It's there because of the way my kids sometimes talk to me when they're mad or don't like some consequence I've dreamed up for them. And it all makes me feel like I might just be a dreadful mother.

To put things in perspective, I'm giving myself daily reminders of a couple of things. First, I've had a hard time transitioning each and every time we've moved. Every time I've had doubts about my abilities to meet new people and make new friends. Every time I've worried about the impact on my kids. Every time I've hated the length of time it takes to become real friends with people and to understand the workings of the community and social network. And ultimately, it has all worked out. I've found those friends that strengthen me, make me better, and most of all just laugh and love life with me. My kids have settled in and felt at home. Our house has eventually gotten into manageable shape and people in our family (besides me) have taken their share of responsibility for keeping it clean and nice. It will come with time.

Second, one of the great things about this community is that it's tight-knit. People know their neighbors and the children at the school. There are grandparents and cousins nearby for a lot of people. Most people feel safe letting their children wander the neighborhood to play with friends. We're still outsiders. And apparently we haven't made that fantastic of an impression. I've tried as much I could, but when I think about it objectively, I can see what others must see. A woman who doesn't volunteer in the school (I'm planning to soon, but between trying to nail down a house and figuring life out from an apartment, it's been low on the agenda), who doesn't jump in to plan activities, and whose kids aren't starting out exactly at the tops of their classes. And who, really, do I expect to take the time to understand why? Yes, the teachers might know at a cursory level that our kids were in French school, but I don't think they understand that they seriously did everything in French, including math and science and music and everything else. To them, Addy seems like a poor speller, nevermind that she got perfect scores on French spelling tests last year. Theo seems a year or two behind on things like the scientific method and social studies-type things, nevermind that he's learning a completely new vocabulary to deal with those subjects. And Emerson. I'm torn between compassion and frustration with that kid. I know we let Joy School fall apart last year, and I'm sure it would have helped. I know that it's kindergarten and transitioning to that on top of transitioning to a new city and to two new dwelling-places in as many months can't be easy. And I know that I would probably be tempted to push a couple of boundaries with his particular teacher as well. But the fact that Emerson is normally so ridiculously easy to get along with, so compliant, and so helpful, yet in his classroom is apparently acting like a little hooligan, well, that's giving me a fair amount of concern. I can't stand that I feel like he's being labeled as a bad kid. I can't stand that he knows better and he knows he knows better, yet he keeps doing things that give his teach coniptic fits. And the larger problem is that there's no easy remedy. To switch him to another class would mean switching him to a different school or paying $1500 for all-day kindergarten, which I'm not sure would even be better. Either way, the only way to get past this is to go through it, so I'm waking up each and every morning with my game face on, ready to help my kids in whatever ways I can to get through whatever it is that life is going to throw at them.

And third, I can't let myself judge me the way others might judge me. Pick the right handful of days and events, and chances are that just about anyone might come up short. I have the whole rest of my life to live, and if I want this time to count, I just have to keep on keeping on. I'm paying attention to my weaknesses, and working on them. A favorite church hymn keeps popping into my head to keep me going: "it will be long, but must go on, put your shoulder to the wheel." And so that's what I'm doing. Because even a little progress each day in the right direction will hopefully lead me, eventually, to my destination.