To Play or Not to Play

One of my earliest memories is sitting on the floor in front of our coffee table and making paper bag puppets. My mom is an artist and was always providing some kind of creative project or another. It was one of the best things about her as a mom, one that made me adore her as a child. 

I was sitting and making these, from what I remember, pretty amazing paper bag puppets. I couldn’t wait to show them to my mom. I couldn’t wait to play with her. It was going to be epic. I finally finished and I looked up and called “Mom! Mom! Moooooom!”, as you do. Mom was on the phone, holding the receiver to her ear, the coiled cord twirling around her finger. She looked over at me and said, “give me five minutes.” 

So, of course, I counted to five. Five seconds. Barely. This was obviously a pre-time understanding age. Then again, “Moooooooom!” She turns her face toward me and says, “I said five minutes, honey, I’m on the phone.” I can tell she is annoyed. I am now devastated. She is not excited about my paper bag puppets. She does not think they are the most amazing thing ever. I am the worst. I drop them down onto the coffee table. That’s the memory. It’s quick, but still painful when I remember it. The feeling of not being seen, of being ignored, of not being important enough.

What’s funny is, this is probably one of the most tame and normal memories I have of my mother in my childhood. She was just being a mom. I know this now. She gave me a craft so I would have something to focus on and she could have five minutes of peace to have a phone conversation and not be asked for a million things. I was her third kid, she was exhausted. There were other times that were less tame. Other moments where she wasn’t able to communicate calmly or kindly. So it’s funny that this moment really sticks out. Much of how she reacted to me made me want to be very different from her as a mother. 

But in this moment, we are the same. Now that I have kids, I know exactly how she felt. Didn’t I see the million things she’d already done for me that day? Couldn’t I just entertain myself for a few minutes so she could talk to an adult for a while? Was that so hard? I’ve done this so many times. I’ve also used this memory to mom-guilt myself a million times. “You remember this so clearly,” I tell myself, “they’ll remember it too. Play with them! Sure, you’re exhausted. Sure, they kept you up all night, then made continuous messes. Sure, you made healthy meals, washed clothes, created fun activities, planned meals, figured out school stuff, made sure their clothes are still fitting, planned a birthday party, etc. etc… but you should be PRESENT and PLAYING WITH THEM TOO.”

So, what’s the answer here? Am I a bad mom because, if I’m honest, I don’t want to play with my kids all the time? Is it wrong that every time I sit down to play with them I get anxious and stressed about all the things I could be getting done? I’m over here trying to raise two healthy humans, keep us all fed and clothed, develop my own damn self, AND I have to play Paw Patrol?!

The answer, I think, is what it always is. It’s a balance. I do not like playing Paw Patrol. I don’t like playing Frozen. It’s not my thing. I am not great at improv, okay? I can’t think what Elsa would do in every situation. My husband, he’s amazing at it. He’s so fun. I’m just…not, into that kind of fun. And that’s okay! I don’t have to be! It turns out, I don’t have to guilt myself into doing everything my kids want all the time. But I do need to find ways to connect; find times to be present. No, I can’t be present all day, but I can find a balance where everyone’s needs are being honored. That’s the sweet spot. 

So, what I did was sit back and think about what things I like to do with them. For me, it’s crafts (go figure) and science stuff. Projects. Messy stuff. Sensory stuff. Music and dancing. I enjoy that. It calms me and it helps them. Their dad, their grandma, their aunt, they all love pretend play, so the kids aren’t lacking. Have at it, I say! This is why it takes a village. Children get different experiences and skills from different people in their lives.  I will focus on finding time to be present with them as much as it makes sense for my life. I will not deprive them, nor will I drown myself in guilt for not being able to be all things to all people. 

Maybe one of the many times I’ve said no to playing will stick in my kids’ heads like that moment stuck in mine. That thought used to make me sick to my stomach. But now, now that I’m a mom and I know what that moment really meant; I know it’s ok. They get to have whatever memories and interpretations that make sense to them. It’s okay for them to be disappointed when I’m not able to do what they want. It’s also okay for me to not be able to say “yes” to them every time they ask. The idea isn’t to create a childhood full of only happy memories. It’s not to do the “right” thing every time. It’s to create an environment where everyone in the household gets to be a human who feels and thinks and needs. 

Here’s what I know. My kids will have lots of wonderful memories of their childhood. They will also have some that will make them unhappy with me. I hope they’ll talk to me about them. I know I’ll always keep talking to them openly and honestly. If I keep doing that, they’ll know I tried really hard. Maybe they don’t know it now, but I’m going to make sure that they understand that all needs in our family have to be met for us all to thrive as a unit. I hope when they look back, they’ll see a whole rainbow of moments, good and bad, and ultimately decide that I did okay by them. I have a feeling if I keep honoring us all, they just might.