A few weeks ago we had some coupons for a local restaurant, so the family decided to go out to dinner. As we were getting out of the car I saw another family walking out of the restaurant. The father was dressed in business attire–nice slacks, button-front shirt, but no tie; he was obviously just off of work. The three children were absolutely adorable…a little girl had cute braided pigtails and a pretty dress, and her two brothers were clean and well-dressed with ultra-white sneakers. All three children were under the age of six.
And then there was Mom.
Mom looked like she hadn’t washed her hair in a week and had it pushed back into a scrunchy. She was wearing those thin, elasticized-waist pants that are supposed to pass for jeans and were at least four sizes too large for her. She wore an oversized tee shirt, dirty sneakers, and no make-up. Her back was hunched, her shoulders were rolled, and she looked miserably depressed.
I was glad that they were walking so far away from us because I couldn’t stop staring.
So many thoughts crossed my mind as I watched this family. First was that I was glad she wasn’t cooking that night, and hoped it was her dear husband who offered to take the family out to give her a break and that she didn’t have to insist on it. I thought about all the work she put into taking care of those children, who were obviously happy, well cared for, and loved. I wondered if she was suffering from depression or was just feeling discouraged or having a really bad day. I wondered if her husband was supportive and loving. I wondered if she was ill, if she got enough sleep, if she had extended family and friends or felt alone. I wondered if she felt she wasn’t worth taking the time to get dressed up or to buy something nice to wear and put everything into the family, or if she simply just couldn’t do one more thing that day and gave everything she had to the family. Did this woman feel valued? Appreciated? Loved?
I thought about the days in my life where I was that woman.
I also thought that here was an image of motherhood…and it wasn’t pretty.
I wondered how many people in the restaurant would see her as a burned-out soul…or would they see her as a lazy bum?
I wondered what her husband thought. Did he care? Was he helping her? Was he belittling her? Did he see her pain or did he think she had given up? Did he respect her? Did he resent her?
I felt terrible for this woman, even though I have no idea what her situation truly is. Perhaps I am only reading pain in this woman because that’s where I have been.
And, yet, I think that this might be the situation for too many mothers out there. Certainly I have been there, and it wasn’t a healthy time for me at all. (I’ll skip listing all the obvious reasons why.)
It wasn’t a good time for my children, either. While they had a mother who was quick to take them to every activity on the planet, made sure they ate the healthiest and best foods, who always dressed them impeccably, who took pictures of them at the drop of a hat, who read stories every night and let them pretty much turn the house into a personal craft project…they also had a mother who was burned-out, unhappy, and impatient, to say the least. Years later, my oldest daughters have remarked that, while they have so many wonderful childhood memories, I am definitely a happier person now. That they take note of that fact does not bring me joy…it brings me sadness for the mother/woman/human being I wasn’t.
It was not a good time for my husband, either, who, while a truly good person who is a completely hands-on and involved father and always wanting to be supportive, just simply did not understand why, since I was “home all day,” I was burned out. It wasn’t like I had to “go to work.” I was also the one in charge of how the day went; if I needed more time for something, I should just schedule it, right?
I’m usually pretty on message about not waiting for the world to change for us when life isn’t going in a positive direction. But what if you are in a place where you just can’t see a way to change things, where you don’t have the energy or the clarity or the hope? When so much of society does not recognize the true value and work involved in motherhood, how can anyone offer help or hope? How do we help other mothers? Can we help?
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