Zen Mama
Peace of mine
Moms, are y’all okay?
I feel like I’m literally losing my mind some days.
Deeply tired.
I’m tired of telling my toddler to stop doing basic things like not taking apart the couch cushions every spare moment or unscrewing the lamp light bulb or chasing the dog with sticks or taking things from his baby sister. Over and over and over. Every day. Countless times a day. For hundreds of days. (okay maybe I’m exaggerating but it feels like this sometimes).
Zen mama would probably just sit on a cushion-less couch or sit on a couch cushion on the floor. I, however, am tender and sore. Everywhere. I am seeking an ounce of comfort. Today, I am not zen mama.
Zen mama would probably gracefully put herself between the toddler and the dog, without a whine and with gentle words. I just put the dog outside and let the 3 year old cry about it for a second (or put him out there, too).
My nipples leak milk and I can’t even feel that my pants got wet from the dripping. I look down and notice.
Zen mama would probably just let her milk drip down, saturating her clothes, and then she’d likely go lay out in the sun and let it dry—she’d imagine the milk absorbing into her skin, replenishing her tired body. She’d be unbothered by the stains.
I am not zen mama today. I feel damp and cold. I change clothes.
I’m often so oversaturated that I can’t even feed myself. The children are fed. That I can do. But me? Why is that so hard?
Zen mama would ease-fully hold the baby on her hip and work alongside her toddler to make breakfast for everyone, with delicate direction and skillets-full of patience as the counter spreads out in chaos onto the floor.
Zen mama?
I’ll either try my best to keep my cool while the pancake mix gets everywhere or I’ll let the toddler cut up his own fruit or I’ll let him take the whole clam-shell of strawberries with him into the living room so I can just sit on the floor with the baby who won’t stop whining to be held up and practice standing.
But, I guess that’s the thing. I am my own kind of zen mama. I do all the same things zen mama does when I am able.
Maybe I can’t always keep my cool, but I’m at peace with my growing edges and I always make repairs; the reality is, zen mama needs to be resourced in order to be zen. The days I am fed, bathed, and relatively “filled up”, I can be more playful, less reactive. Sometimes patience takes effort, and other times it takes no effort at all.
Mothers are supposed to mother in a village with proximity; not just “mama groups” and distant family and neighbors who are nice, but can you trust them with your kid? Can he come hang with y’all for an hour so I can complete a task or stare into the distance and catch my breath?
Monks appear zen because they aren’t care-taking children alone for most of the day… I think a lot of us would be at peace in the retreat center of a monastery. But I wouldn’t trade being a mother to live a monastic life for anything; or rather:
Motherhood is my spiritual work.
Parenting is one of the hardest things you can do in modern society.
Give yourself grace.
You’re doing great!
And now I’m going to start a rolling list of all the times I am zen mama.
