Mom Guilt: How to Silence the Voice

The title of this post may be a bit deceiving. I’m not actually great at silencing the voice of guilt in motherhood or anywhere else. But I’m working on it. Maybe you feel the weight of mom guilt, too. I’ve been trying a few things lately – perhaps they’ll help you, too.

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Emotions have been high in our house. Three-nager life is real, and boy, it is a challenge. I was unprepared. It seems that increased emotions have also brought an increase in mom guilt. Guilt pops up when I have a less-than-savory reaction to my children. She shows up again when I’m doing anything other than interacting with them, and again when things in the house have been left undone (still).

I call my mom guilt Edna. Slowly but surely, we’re learning how to live with each other.

Am I Missing It?

It seems a good portion of my time as a mother has been spent worrying. I was a worrier before, but this is…different. I worry about all kinds of things all the time.

One of the things I’ve been thinking (read: worrying) about lately is – am I actually missing it?

Last week, I wrote about seeing God in nap time. The kids have been napping around the same time, leaving me a bigger-than-usual chunk of time to get things done.

What I didn’t write in that post was how I felt when my oldest woke early. I had big plans for that nap time, and having just finished the “must-dos” meant it was finally time for me.

When he cried out, I couldn’t help but comfort him. But I wasn’t happy about it. The entire time I was lying with him in bed, a piece of me was desperate to get back to my writing. I could feel my body tense with anticipation, mentally counting the minutes until I could try to leave his room.

My mind could not let go of a desire to be productive, complete a project, and do something other than lying with my son.

I know it’s natural to feel disappointed or frustrated when what’s generally considered “my time” doesn’t go as planned. But emotionally, well, that’s a different story.

I wonder again if I’m missing it when he comes to me, his little face tilted up, and says, “Up, Mom.” More often than not, my response is “I can’t right now, buddy.” I’m afraid one day he’ll stop coming altogether.

Logically, I know this will happen. He will stop asking to be picked up at some point. I also know I often can’t stop what I’m doing and pick him up, like when I’m nursing his brother, making breakfast, or going to the bathroom. (Let’s be honest; he also has a knack for asking for “up” at the least helpful time.)

Edna reminds me that he won’t always cry out for me or ask to be held. Instead, I should relish it, soak it in, be happy I’m needed. She parrots back to me my fear that I am, in fact, missing out on these precious moments with my children.

I feel a lot of guilt when balancing my needs with my children’s. For each, there is a cost.

Acknowledge the Voice of Guilt

I hear Edna’s tiny, nagging voice often. You’re missing it. (See also: How could you leave them? No one else can care for them like you do. What if they wake and you’re not there? It won’t always be this way, you know.)

As silly as it sounds, naming her (which I did for the first time for this post) seems to help. At least now I can call her out. Remind her that she is not the adult in charge here, and her unhelpful comments aren’t welcome.

Begone Edna! Find someone else to bug!

Writers often talk about naming their inner critic. Giving a name to the voice in your head can make it easier to call it out and determine when the thoughts aren’t coming from you. Does your mom guilt have a name? Would you give it one?

Give Yourself Grace

Someone once said that only good parents worry if they’re doing it right. Well, if you’re like me, we must all be in the running for parent of the year.

It’s hard when the days are hard—when patience and boundaries are tested at every turn, when feelings are hurt, and everyone is crying over everything, including me. Sometimes, it’s hard to separate myself from my emotions.

Take teeth brushing. This is often the end of the world for my three-year-old.

Literally.

We prompt and remind, set a routine, and try to make it fun—all the things the parenting advice videos and columns say to do. But he fights, flails, and cries—and so do I. Ultimately, we get it done, but I’m thinking about that interaction for the rest of the day.

Mom guilt Edna pops up again and says, Well, you could have handled that differently. Don’t worry, you get to do it again in 10 hours. Hopefully, you do better this time. (Maybe throw in an evil witch’s cackle for good measure. Edna can be a bit of a bully.)

Instead of listening to Edna, I spend a lot of time reminding myself that I’ve never been a parent before. I’m learning, too. Having only been a parent for three years, I’m a bit like a toddler, too.

Through it all, I’m learning to give myself and my children grace. I’m learning to trust that the good stuff sticks and the bad stuff washes out. Even though it can be hard to separate ourselves from the emotions of the day, each day and each moment is new, a chance to set out with a fresh start.

Seek Out the Good

It’s hard being the parent at home all the time. In the middle of the daily grind, it’s hard to see the moments of joy and wonder you get with your children. Those “trees” often get lost in the forest of bad attitudes, crying tantrums, and poor choices.

Most days, I feel like I’m doing it all wrong. Like my children and I don’t know how to interact, and don’t know each other at all. I worry that in trying to remain calm and patient in tense moments, I actually come across as cold and unfeeling.

But then I hear my oldest cheering on his brother. “That’s good standing!” or I catch him thanking our waiter at a restaurant when his food comes out. His parents taught him that. When he gets frustrated, he whispers to himself, “Take a break, try again. I can do it!” He learned that language from us.

It’s important to remember that none of us will be perfect on this side of heaven. We will never be the perfect parents or the perfect spouse. But every day is a new chance to learn about ourselves and our children. There is good to be found, but first, we must be in the habit of looking.

Make Time for Yourself

Between seeking out the good moments and giving myself and my kids abundant grace, I’m also learning I’m a better mom when I have time to myself during the day. My kids usually do their part and take good naps, but they’re humans, too.

Earlier this week, my youngest was up 90 minutes earlier than usual. When settling attempts didn’t stick, I decided it was best to bring him into the living room with me.

I set him down on the floor, and it’s not long before toys surround him. He pulls a wooden block out of the basket next to him and sets it on the tile floor next to the others. He sits up and surveys his choice. Happy with his work, he does it again, each block in its place.

While he plays, I’m on the couch, watching him and writing. He doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of involvement. He looks up every so often, wanting approval or a reaction, eager to share a smile. A piece of me feels guilty for not being on the floor with him.

Here comes Edna, eager to stick her nose in. This time she whispers: Babies don’t keep. You’re missing it. One day you’ll wish for this again.

As moms, we hear these kinds of things all the time. Don’t wish away the years. The days are long, but the years are short. While it’s true and I do my best not to wish away the time I have with my babies while they’re babies, I think we’re doing mothers a disservice in these sayings.

I remind myself that kids need unstructured, uninterrupted alone play. And as a younger sibling, he doesn’t get that very often. He knows I’m here with him, watching him, but he doesn’t seem to need or want me to play.

Instead of listening to Mom guilt Edna, I’m taking time for myself and working on a creative project while my son plays nearby. He’s safe and attended to. We are both doing our own learning and creative work.

Practice, Practice, Practice

It took me a long time to get (more) comfortable doing something other than interacting with my children when they’re awake.

Now, I’m more willing to sit with my laptop open, writing while the kids play. Of course, it helps that they’re a little older. But it took practice. Lots and lots of practice.

So, if you need one, here’s your permission slip. Go practice doing something for yourself, away from your children. Hire a babysitter or coordinate time with your spouse or friend. Leave the housework for another 30 minutes or an hour (I promise it will still be there waiting for you). If you have to, bring the kids into the action.

Do the things that bring you life. Push play on the yoga video. Write the words. Bake the bread. Sew the clothing. Pull out the paints. Repot some plants.

I think the voice of mom guilt never really goes away. But it’s important to acknowledge it, and then gently remind ourselves that we are learning and growing too.

Name the voice you hear when you feel like you’re not good enough. Then gently respond to it and yourself with grace. Step back and look at your situation with fresh eyes. What would a friend see if she walked through your door right now? Likely, a well-loved child, playing easily on the floor, while you sit nearby.

Look for the good in every day and practice taking some time for yourself each day, no matter how small.

Most importantly, remember that you are a good mom, even on the days you feel like you fall short. Even on days your temper gets the best of you and you don’t respond as kindly as you wish you had.

You are exactly the mom your kids need, each and every day.