I learned last night, that I am not nearly as secure in my parenthood as I thought or hoped I was.
This has nothing to do with my parenting abilities. I rock as a mom. My kids are happy, well fed, make it to school on time, finish their homework and can snowboard. I have taught them how to tie their shoes, given them guidance on what to do with their hair, and taught them how to do laundry. I make really good milkshakes, and I buy mint Girl Scout cookies. I tell them daily I love them, and I think they know it.
What threw me for a loop was seeing my children's father walk in with his new wife to my children's Open House at school. I fully expect to see him at everything, I even encourage it (the whole they-are-both-of-ours bullshit). I just did not expect to see her. Until last night, it had sorta been unwritten; I didn't fuck with her time, she didn't fuck with mine. I guess that just changed. And sometimes I hate change, especially one so obviously meant to throw me off. It worked. I also know, having been her at one point in my existence, that it had nothing to do with me at all. But I let it effect me, I gave him the power.
It did not change how I interacted with my kids during the event, even when I watched as "she" corrected my son's reading. I did not change how I interacted with my kids even as my ex introduced her to the teachers with my children's last name (more about that some other time). I did not change how I interacted with my kids, as the happy couple purchased every book (all expensive spineless crap) from the Book Faire my children put in their hands.
What did change? Something left over from my and my children's father's relationship that said I was not good enough. He had told me often enough, about my body, my wishes, my thoughts, my life and desires not being good enough, that while I was in the deepest part of my depression I actually believed him. It was so deep, this feeling that somehow he must be right, that he didn't even have to say a word last night. It was a body memory. He just brought his new female crutch with him and I did all the work for him. I felt weak and not good enough, and tortured by thoughts that my children would see right through me, and they would see me as not good enough too, and cling to the new woman that currently holds their father's attention. The one he holds out for them as a much better happier mom, so much better than me, just because of all the things I am not.
Pathetic. And what did I do about it? For the first time ever, I went home and confessed it to my kids. I confessed my fear and doubt. I told them about hurt and anger. I told them I was learning to let go so they could choose anything they wanted, because more than anything I want them to think for themselves. I took full responsibility for my own insecurity, not in any way expecting them to fix me. I cried in front of them and told them I loved them.
And what did they do? They asked me to read them a bed time story, and cuddled up under the blanket on my son's bed. They picked the oldest baby book we have. It is falling apart from the thousands of times we have read it. They don't even need to look at it any more, they have it memorized, words, pictures, tone, everything. We laughed. My son told me that "she" had to be jealous of me because he was such a great kid and belonged to me, and how could she not be jealous. He also said (and I quote) "tough shit" she can't have him, and dad would just have to get over it. My daughter just rolled her eyes because instead of getting mad that my son had cussed, I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. This time the tears were absolute joy.
