Good Enough

Whatever happened to the "Good Enough Mother?" Though I often hear this term thrown around, I can not help but feel like no one really believes in it -- sometimes, myself included. Perhaps the problem lies inherently in the title "good enough." No one strives for mediocrity and who really wants to be called "good enough" at their job anyway? Or perhaps we just need a reminder. We are good enough.

The "Good Enough Mother" theory was proposed by Winnicot in 1952 and in doing so he raised up new mothers with the notion that mother knows best. Winnicot wrote that, "A good enough mother learns best how to look after her baby not from health professionals and self-help books but from having been a baby herself. She acts naturally." (Winnicott, 1988). Winnicott suggested that during pregnancy and the first few months postpartum, the mother undergoes a "state of heightened sensitivity." After those early months, the mother then experiences a "flight into sanity" where she begins to exist outside of her state of "primary maternal occupation" with her newborn. The "Good Enough Mother" then continues providing an environment which facilitates healthy maturational processes in her baby. She is the principal individual who protects, cares for and meets her baby's need for emotional attachment and love. Winnicot wrote that there are ".. very subtle things that the mother knows intuitively and without any intellectual appreciation of what is happening, and which she can only arrive at by being left alone and given full responsibility..." (Winnicott, 1988).

Though I constantly find myself striving to be more or the best (me), I do believe in Winnicot's theory of the "Good Enough Mother" and that as mothers, we are good enough. But then why do we often feel so inadequate? From the time Adara was a newborn and crying her lungs out in the aisles of Target, perfect strangers have approached to inform me that my baby was crying "because she is really cold" or "because she is hungry," or "because she is dressed much to warmly for this weather." Parents and grandparents and siblings and neighbors and even our own friends like to comment on our parenting. Everyone seems to know better than the mother. (Disclaimer: I am in no way pointing out anyone personally, and my own parents and in-laws are wonderful and supportive in every way. Thank you, because Lord knows I'm not a perfect mother, but I do believe I am good enough.)

In the community in which I am blessed to live, I find myself constantly surrounded by the most amazing of mothers. Mothers who lead weekly music lessons in their home, who spend hours everyday with their kids exploring on the trails or with art, letting their kids get messy because they know the importance of that. Mothers who share their love of cooking with their children by making elaborate, healthy meals on a daily basis to be shared over a loving dinner table where they discuss their day and their favorite moments and what made them happy and building up their self-esteem along the way. Mothers who inspire and motivate me, who cheer me up and support me and love me.

Amongst such wonderful mothers, sometimes I just feel that there is so much to live up to. There is so much that I want to do and all at the same time. This takes me back to one of my very favorite quotes by Jack Kerouac, which I have shared on this blog previously, "The only ones for me are the mad ones, mad to live, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time..."

That quote sums up my December thus far. I am realizing that at this time of year, more than any other, I want more out of life. I want every moment to be magical. Christmas has always been the most wonderful time of the year, full of this unadulterated spirit, and I want it to be the same for my kids. So while I don't feel overwhelmed, necessarily, I do feel like I'm trying to jam everything in just so that nothing gets left out.

Monday morning I drank a cup of coffee, I don't typically drink anything stronger than Irish Breakfast Tea, and oh boy did it get me going. We made Snowman pancakes complete with eyes, clementine noses and arms, yogurt smiles and black fig top hats. Next we were off to school, where the heaters were broken and hardworking selfless teachers were literally running to get everything set up for their own busy day of Christmas crafts with the kids. Back home, baby nursed to sleep and ready to relax on the couch and possibly catch up on bills or other home chores, I impulsively decided to put all those tasks on the back burner and get some lentil soup simmering on the front to bring in to those very teachers. But then, something had to go with that lentil soup, of course, so why not cook up some homemade cornbread! Brilliant!

Adara's Snowman Pancake -- before he was devoured within seconds. Yes, that is a gingerbread man pancake in the bottom circle. Too much Christmas fun to be had and we wanted it all.

A mere thirty minutes later and Isaac was standing in his crib, ready to play. I love our house, but it is tiny and babies' ears are sensitive. I have tried hundreds of times over four years of naps now, but I just can't cook and have my kids sleep through it. Oh well, I knew that was a risk this morning and my spirit was in the giving-mood, so with Isaac slung onto my left hip, we finished cooking that French lentil soup and homemade cornbread and loaded into the car once more to drop it off. While we're at it, why don't I pop in each of the girls' classes and read a Christmas story? I thought. Thirty minutes and two readings of "The Polar Express" later (hardcover version from one magical Christmas when I was about 7 years old), we were back in the car and headed home so the starving baby could eat some lunch. Lunch consumed and cleaned, I loaded baby boy into the triple stroller to pick up his sisters from school. I couldn't help but laugh that Isaac must think I'm a madwoman, with all this running around (quite literally). Yes, I am good at laughing at myself. : )

Last night, I was no better. Alan is out of town, the kids were all asleep by 7:30pm and I was left with a headache from forgetting to drink water all afternoon. Oops! Mental reminder #107: Take care of yourself. I was about to pass out on the couch when I discovered some cute Christmas bento box lunch ideas online. Fast forward two hours and I am in the kitchen, prepping up the girls' lunches with cute little gingerbread man cheese cut-outs and Snowmen fruit kebabs. (And Yes, these then fell on the sandy floor of our minivan this morning right as we were unloading and Cesia decided to open up her lunchbox to see what I had packed her. And Yes, I nearly cried before spending the next 10 minutes washing every cutie and cheese slice and other semi-salvageable item in the school sink to rid them of sand.) Two newly created word documents contained the cutest of cutest Christmas food ideas for our annual North Pole Party coming up next week. Two additional pages contained holiday crafts, homemade play dough recipes, and lots of home-learning fun ideas. It was past 11pm before I made myself retire for the night.

I awoke this morning with a long mental to-do list and even considered getting started at it after Isaac's 4am milk break. "Perhaps I should start waking up at this time everyday just to get stuff done," I seriously thought to myself. Alas, Cesia came rushing down the hall for a bathroom break and after some canoodling, finally cuddled up in bed with me and we were both back to sleep until Adara found us at 7am. Thank you, 2-and-a-half year old for giving me some sanity and luring me back to bed at 4am.

My sleeping angel - from an afternoon nap via run this week.

By the time 7am came around, my to-do list had somehow grown since 4 o'clock. It is already mid-December and there is just so much fun to be had. How do you fit in everything? How do you feel "Good Enough" or do you? How do you keep from feeling inadequate? Do you wrestle with the compulsion to be and do so much more? Do you feel guilty when you don't make homemade playdough or don't have a home cooked meal on the table each night for dinner? I know it sounds ridiculous, but these are the things I find myself worrying about at 4am.

Lately I feel as if I am in this place where I want to spend every second teaching my kids, through cooking, making crafts, exploring trails, running, dancing, yoga class, gymnastics class yet still saving time for naps and free play and nightly relaxing family dinners and long baths and storytime. Am I still a "Good Enough Mother" if I don't make homemade playdough? If I serve frozen pizza for dinner? If I don't do every craft in my 2-page document? I am meeting their needs, I am providing attachment and love. And you know what, they go crazy for store-bought playdough. Go figure! Sometimes we just need a reminder that we are the "Good Enough Mother" and that in and of itself is enough. Just look in your babies eyes and you will know it.

Does this baby look like he's attached and loved.
You betcha!