“The most important thing she’d learned over the years was that there was no way to be a perfect mother and a million ways to be a good one.”
― Jill Churchill
I think it starts when that first child is still in the womb… that first twinge of guilt, that first little voice that whispers, Am I doing it right? Am I doing enough? Am I totally screwing this up? So we ask questions and we read and we research and we Google and we read some more. And the result is often more of the same: more questions, more confusion, more guilt. When it comes to motherhood, I am certainly not immune to the feelings of guilt nor its frequent companions: anxiety, overwhelmedness, and utter exhaustion.
One particularly guilt-filled, sleep-deprived day early on in my parenting career, I found myself searching for answers among the stacks of parenting books at a local bookstore, and I came across a book titled I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids. The title alone made me laugh out loud. Oh, how true! I don’t remember looking at the book beyond its cover, but that title held so much truth in just 10 words. I didn’t always know if I wanted to be a mom, but once I did, I knew exactly the kind of mom I wanted to be, and oh, did I set lofty goals for myself: I’d be the mom who would play with her kids for hours on the floor, who would read to them every night, who would welcome each holiday with seasonal crafts, who would patiently teach them how to do yoga and grow a garden and ride a bike and tie their shoes and cook and bake, who would insouciantly swing with them on the swings and spontaneously invite all their friends over and gleefully kick around the soccer ball with them in the backyard, who would volunteer all her free time at their schools, who would never raise her voice (ha!)…. Such high hopes! Of course, those of you who are mothers (and those of you who know me well) are most likely laughing hysterically right now. (It’s okay: I’m laughing too!)
I’m sure you can guess how this story turned out. I tried for a while to live up to that ideal fantasy image of the “perfect” mom that I had created in my mind. Oh, how I tried! I played on the floor with trains and blocks, I took the boys to yoga, I planted a garden, I bought glitter and glue and art supplies, I chased them around the playground, I volunteered large chunks of my little bits of free time at their schools, all while trying to keep up with the cooking and cleaning and bills and laundry (SO MUCH laundry!)…. Some of these things I did well, many of them I did not so well, several of them I enjoyed, and a few of them I pretended to enjoy. But trying to do ALL of the things perfectly made me exhausted and cranky, qualities that were not at all conducive to being the mom I wanted to be. After a while, I began to realize that I could not do it all, nor did I even want to do it all; in order to keep my sanity, I had to let some things go. It didn’t happen overnight, but little by little, day by day, I reconciled my fantasy-mom self with my reality-mom self. I stopped being her and I started being me.
As mothers, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the story of what we should be doing and all of the things we are doing wrong and could be doing better. (The Internet does not help.) But somewhere along the way, I realized that not only is it impossible to be good at every aspect of parenting, but it is also counterproductive to chastise myself for every misstep and every “failed” attempt at being the perfect mom. So, with some much-needed perspective—and some gentle guidance from my husband—I started taking note of what I was doing right and what I was good at and started (trying) to accept (and forgive) my shortcomings. And I gradually discovered that when I was gentler with myself, when I focused more on what I did well, I was a less stressed, happier mom… and the boys were happier too!
Almost 12 years into this parenting gig, I still have a LOT to learn, but I have a clearer, less fantastical idea of my parenting strengths and weaknesses and how I fit into this role as a mom. I finally admitted to myself that I am not the kind of mom who will run around the yard and kick the soccer ball around. I’m happy to get outside with the boys for nature hikes and post-dinner walks (or races) around the neighborhood, but, to be honest, I am not very good at “playing.” (Luckily I married a big kid, er, man who truly loves playing and excels at it.) I know next-to-nothing about sports, and the extent of my athletic “career” is the two years I spent on the cheerleading squad in junior high, but I’ll enthusiastically cheer on the boys at their soccer and basketball games, even though I’m not always sure if I’m cheering for the right things. I am awful at scheduling play dates, but when celebrating birthdays and planning parties, I go all out, especially when it comes to the cake! I still break out the craft supplies from time to time, but honestly it’s because I really enjoy it, perhaps more than my kids do. I tend to take on more than I can handle and I am easily overwhelmed, but once I realized that the world wouldn’t end (and my kids didn’t care) if I didn’t say “yes” to every volunteer opportunity and every request of my time, it was liberating! These days, I’m working on saying “no” more often, but I still try to say “yes” to the things I enjoy and the things I do well, such as helping out at the school library (because I love books) or contributing homemade baked goods to school parties and fundraisers (because I love baking). Isn’t it funny how the things we are good at are often the things we enjoy the most?
Perhaps because I do not particularly enjoy summer, I am not that good at “doing” summer. But here we are in July, fully immersed in all things summer, and I must carry on. Summer presents a particular set of challenges with young boys: Boys have lots of energy, and that energy is best expended outside. However, when it’s unpleasantly hot and humid and the insects are annoyingly active, I’d much rather stay inside my (air-conditioned) house, but then I’d hear that familiar “mom guilt” voice again: You should be outside with them! All the other moms are taking their kids to the playground or the water park. Sigh…. So it turns out I am not completely immune to maternal guilt—nor do I think I ever will be—but I now have a better idea of how to deal with it: After letting the boys run around outside and expend some energy, I assuage my guilt by doing what I’m good at: cooking and baking… and including my kids in the process.
As someone who loves to cook, I assumed that getting my kids involved in the kitchen and teaching them how to cook would come easily. But this was just another instance of me learning to temper my expectations and becoming better acquainted with reality. When my boys were younger and I was scrambling to get dinner on the table at a reasonable hour, I learned that it was usually easier for everyone involved if they pretended to make their own dinner in their play kitchen, rather than “helping” me make dinner in our suddenly cramped kitchen when everyone was already “starving.” So I’d give them some old mixing bowls, a few handfuls of dried pasta, and a couple of wooden spoons, and they would (for the most part) happily keep themselves occupied, and I could make dinner more quickly without losing my mind.
As the boys have grown older and have shown more interest in real cooking, I’ve found that summer can be a good time to get them more involved in the kitchen: For us, mealtimes are a little less hectic (i.e., we aren’t rushing to get dinner on the table before sports practices or school functions), and bedtimes are a little more flexible. Moreover, our summer meals are typically more simple, with less time spent cooking over a hot stove. This summer, I’ve been taking advantage of these “lazier” days and evenings and have been teaching beginner knife skills to my 6-year-old. I started by just handing him a butter knife and some soft mozzarella, guiding him with some simple instructions at first (“make a bear claw with your hand to hold the food you are cutting, keeping your fingertips out of the way”), then letting him take over. My 11-year-old has a few more years of experience in the kitchen with me than his brother, and this summer I’ve realized that he can handle more than I thought he could, so I’ve been trying to give him more responsibilities: slicing tomatoes and other produce, measuring ingredients, operating appliances…. And as we cook, we talk, not just about why we choose certain ingredients or why we cook and eat the way we do (e.g., “this is why farro is good for you” or “this is why we don’t eat cupcakes every day”), but also about what’s on their minds or what’s going on in their lives. Some of my favorite conversations happen in the kitchen.
If you invited me to your house this summer, I most likely showed up with this farro salad (and probably a dessert!). It is an ideal accompaniment to most every summer meal, especially grilled fare, and it’s a more healthful (yet just-as-delicious!) alternative to the typical pasta and potato salads that you’ll find at most summer gatherings. It comes together relatively quickly, especially if you already have cooked farro on hand (I usually have some tucked away in my freezer). It is also a great dish to make with your kids, as there are several opportunities to include them in the process, no matter their age: measuring ingredients for the dressing, slicing mozzarella and tomatoes, gathering herbs from the garden (or just snipping them from the bunch you bought at the grocery store, because maybe your garden isn’t as, um, fruitful or well-tended as you’d hoped it would be)…. It’s still surprising to me how such simple tasks can instill so much pride and confidence in young kids. When my younger son sliced the mozzarella for this salad for the first time, he talked about it for days afterwards, and whenever I made this salad again this summer, he was right beside me, his big, brown eyes beaming with excitement and pride, asking if he could cut up the mozzarella again.
So when I feel that maternal guilt creeping in again, that little voice that tells me I’m not doing enough or I’m not doing it right, I try to remember these times in the kitchen with my boys. I might not be a perfect mom, but in these moments, when I’m in my element, doing what I enjoy and sharing what I’m good at with these loud and funny and kind and messy boys I love, sometimes another little voice whispers: Maybe I am a good enough mom for them. And, if only for a little while, I let go of the guilt, and I go a little easier on myself. Maybe I’m starting to get good at that too.
This farro salad is quite versatile and can be easily adapted to the seasons. In the fall, I might swap out the tomatoes for roasted butternut squash and the mozzarella for goat cheese or feta cheese. For a vegan-friendly variation, omit the cheese entirely and add cooked chickpeas or cannellini beans. Leftover salad keeps well in the refrigerator for a couple of days, but it’s best served at room temperature.
- • 3 cups cooked farro *, cooled to room temperature
- • ¼ cup finely chopped (or snipped with scissors) fresh chives
- • ¼ cup finely chopped fresh Italian (flat-leaf) parsley leaves
- • 1 pint grape or cherry tomatoes, halved (or quartered if large)
- • 8 oz. fresh mozzarella, cut into bite-sized pieces (I like to use the small, cherry-sized balls of fresh mozzarella that are sold in plastic tubs and packed in water, usually labeled ciliegine; then it’s easy to halve or quarter them into smaller bite-sized pieces.)
- • 1 large garlic clove, minced
- • 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
- • 1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
- • 2 teaspoons honey
- • ¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
- • ¼ to ½ teaspoon salt, or to taste
- • Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
- Place the cooked farro in a large bowl. Add the chives, parsley, tomatoes, and mozzarella, and stir gently to combine.
- In a small bowl or glass measuring cup, whisk together the garlic, balsamic vinegar, red wine vinegar, honey, olive oil, salt, and pepper.
- Pour the vinaigrette over the salad and toss to coat. Taste the salad and add more salt and pepper if desired.
Recipe adapted from Everyday Italian: 125 Simple and Delicious Recipes, by Giada De Laurentiis.
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