Idealizing and Idolizing Motherhood

The moms that have shaped my motherhood for better and for worse

me and my kiddos, march or april 2020. this is actually a selfie. getting us all into this pose took a ridiculous amount of tries. i was soloparenting because my husband was deployed. it was also the beginning of the pandemic. in other news, i miss those boots.

When I was a new mom, I didn’t have any moms I idolized and wanted to model my own motherhood after. My own mom, who reads most of what I write, might be deeply offended by this statement, which isn’t my intent. I love you, mom.

What I mean by this is simply that I wasn’t looking to any specific moms for guidance on how to mother. The mothering I’d received from my own mom was already within me, through the 31 years we’d shared from the time she ushered me into the world. Some of it I’d adopt and some of it I would not. None of that is a reflection on her parenting.

The idols I’m talking about are the ones we see all around us: the movie moms, the TV moms, the social media moms, and even some of the moms we are friends with.

I didn’t really have any of those idols at first when I was a new mom. Instagram was in its own infancy when I ventured onto that platform after giving birth to my first child in 2013. I didn’t immediately start following other moms that I didn’t already know in real life. Initially, I was just posting cute pictures of my baby, not as cognizant then of privacy or safety. I just wanted to be seen at a time when I felt alone and stuck and utterly unsure of pretty much everything.

Eventually, instagram started suggesting other moms for me to follow. Usually these moms had a young child, like mine, if not a whole menagerie of children, all dressed in outfits that looked like a modern version of Little House on the Prairie, only with an even more limited color palette. Who knew that taupe would be such a popular kids clothing color for millennial moms?

I was both drawn to these moms and repelled by them.

I loved how calm and peaceful their homes felt, particularly in comparison with my own, which was chaotic and messy. I felt soothed by how organized and well appointed their lives seemed and wondered if I could just be more organized, motherhood would feel easier for me, too.

Looking at the images they choose to post, motherhood felt both prominent but also muted. Their babies fit seamlessly into their beautiful, quiet, well-decorated lives. There was no stress about a baby who wouldn’t nap or a baby struggled to gain weight and grow, like my first child.

Not only that, but motherhood was an experience of bliss for them. Every moment, sun dappled. Every second with their children, cherished. It wasn’t a loud message, but it was a little passive aggressive. “This is the way,” they all seemed to say, like the Mandolorian if he was a mom who wore Christy Dawn dresses.

I wanted to feel that – the serenity and bliss that they presented as their motherhood reality. But I didn’t. I felt exhausted and angry. In my first year postpartum, I was trying to keep my child alive while also struggling with a difficult and sudden career setback while also trying to figure out what my new life looked like as a mom.

This was not how the moms I saw online presented motherhood. If they had paid work on top of the unpaid work of motherhood, they didn’t share it. If they were struggling with sleep deprivation or rage at their partners, they didn’t share it. If they were navigating a postpartum identity crisis, they didn’t share that either.

Instead, they shared the idea that motherhood was a sacred calling and the most natural act

I wanted to be like them but I also low-key hated them.

I couldn’t see myself in them at all. And what felt worse is that I couldn’t really see myself in any of the moms I saw anywhere.

*****

I was an 80’s kid, raised on sitcoms featuring moms of all stripes, but even then the ultimate mom was always the archetype established by June Cleaver. I don’t think I ever even watched Leave it to Beaver. We didn’t have cable when I was growing up, so I just knew about her from the idea of what an idealized mom was in the 50’s.

The home was her domain. An apron tied around her waist, she reigned the kitchen and the living room, where everything was neat as a pin. She didn’t seem to have an identity beyond mom and wife.

I knew that I didn’t want to be like her and yet, the specter of June Cleaver still hung around my idea of what a mom was supposed to be: present and attentive to her kids (and husband). Maker of the food. Cleaner of the house. Tender of the children.

And even though some of that faded with the moms I grew up watching on TV and in movies, a lot of it was still present. The nuclear family was always emphasized, with one exception being the 3 men and a baby (this was both in movie form and on TV with a slightly expanded version of “baby” in Full House).

There were the Keatons, the Seavers, and of course, the Huxtables – probably my favorite family of the bunch. I don’t remember the moms from the Keaton or the Seaver families, but I adored Clair Huxtable. She was an absolute icon.

Clair Huxtable was brilliant, independent, elegant, and strong. She could get her kids in line with a single, steely stare. And she also doled out advice and wisdom with kindness. She balanced being a mom of 5 and a high powered lawyer without breaking a sweat. Clair was a mom who was both impressive and intimidating, in her work and her life.

On the other side of things, I also remember watching moms like Roseanne and Peggy Bundy, who were brash and obnoxious at times, but still loved their kids. The couch was their domain, more so than the kitchen or the laundry room. Their houses were messy and they didn’t care. The simple existence of these moms pushed back hard against parts of the perfect momdom established by June Cleaver.

But when I think back to when I first became a mom and I was struggling to get my footing, I didn’t think of any of these moms. My relationship to them was too distant to use them as examples of what to do or how to behave. Plus, they all were moms of mostly older kids. I had an infant. I needed examples of how to be a new mom, trying to figure out parenting from the ground up.

Now that my oldest is a 12 year old, I wish I could go back and rewatch episodes of the Cosby Show just for Clair and take notes.

*****

As I grew into motherhood, social media and TV moms grew alongside me. I started getting inundated with advice from parents who were also “parenting experts.”

They told me how to parent like a sturdy leader while also making space for kids' emotions and big feelings.
They told me the right ways to feed my children so they were eating intuitively but also without planting the seeds of an eating disorder.
They told me to listen to my gut but also to listen to my children, which by the way, are never the same things.
They told me that instead of telling my kids what to do I should help them make the right decisions on their own.
And they told me that if I wanted to stop a suboptimal behavior like jumping on the couch or not putting their shoes on when we need to leave the house, I should modify these by pre-gaming them and teaching them the behavior I want to do when it’s not in the heat of the moment.

Oh, and everything should be a fun game to engage them instead of a directive to get them to “follow orders.” After all, we don’t want obedient kids; we want critical thinkers and good decision makers..

They also laid bare all of the parenting mistakes I was making, promising me that so long as I did all of the things they suggested, I was still a good parent.

Who cares if some of it was conflicting advice or didn’t work for my kids or made parenting more of a minefield?

Along with the rise of the parenting influencer, I was watching more TV shows geared towards kids. Interestingly, lots of kids' shows don’t actually have parents. When my oldest watched Shimmer and Shine or My Little Pony or Blaze and the Monster Machines or Paw Patrol, I kept wondering where all of the adults were and how these young children/ponies were going on big adventures or in charge of emergency services.

Disney movies weren’t much help. Either one or both of the parents are dead or they are overbearing and overprotective. And also, royalty.

Eventually we started watching movies featuring parents, some of whom I admired and others I cringed at.

Rewatching the Parent Trap was a trip. My 5 year old loves this movie and I’ve probably watched it 10 times in the past 18 months. Elizabeth James is effortlessly elegant and so cool — even when she’s a little bit of a mess. She also had no issue with splitting up her twins so she and their father wouldn’t have to communicate, ever, after their divorce was final. So there’s also that. But I loved the ease of her parenting and wished I could have a little more of that.

On the other hand, rewatching Mrs. Doubtfire was painful. Seeing Daniel (Robin Williams) praised as a good dad for acting like an overgrown child and breaking the actual law while Miranda (Sally Field) is penalized for having boundaries, a rewarding job, and relationship standards, felt like an attack. I remember as a kid thinking that she was no fun and my own child noted the same thing while watching the movie recently.

Watching Yes Day with my kids last summer felt somewhere in between. Both parents felt more relatable, but especially the mom, played by Jennifer Garner. She stayed home to raise her kids and lost a part of herself in the process. She was often forced into the role of disciplinarian, allowing her husband to be the fun parent. And she was just trying to do her very best. Watching that movie felt validating and frustrating — I could see so much of myself in her character and didn’t want to be seen as the unfun parent by my own kids, so I ended up doing a Yes Day with my kids, too (with some interesting results).

But of all of the moms I discovered as my children sat in front of the TV, Chilli Heeler is probably the one I idolized the most. Bluey came along when I was pregnant with my 3rd and our lives were forever changed.

Chilli is exactly the kind of mom I always wished I could be. I mean, other than the fact that she’s a dog. She’s imaginative and plays silly games with her kids willingly. She’s incredibly patient and kind and deeply caring, but she’s also not a saint. She needs breaks from time to time and gets irritated with her kids like a normal mom. And like so many of us, she sometimes feels like a bad mom, too.

In the 5 years that we watched Bluey, I desperately wanted to emulate Chilli. I tried to play games with my kids like she did. I tried to be fully present in the moment with my kids. In difficult moments I’d frequently as myself, “WWCD?”

And sometimes it worked. But most of the time, I was still just me. A mom who adores her kids, but is also short tempered and stressed out by motherhood. A mom who can be silly sometimes and is really good at being a safe place to land for her kiddos, but also struggles with making the right choices in the moment.

My kids still love Bluey, but we no longer watch it regularly. I miss Chilli’s presence in my life, reminding me that it’s ok to be an imperfect mom. But while Chilli never would judge me as a mom, even with Chilli, I often felt like I didn’t quite measure up.

*****

At this point, I’ve been a mom for over 12 years. I’ve had 12 years of whiplash from momfluencers and parenting experts and movie moms and sitcom-moms and even cartoon dog moms.

I’ve spent the entirety of my time as a mom trying so hard to be the best mom I can be, often holding myself to impossible standards that are frequently in conflict with one another.

I’ve had moments that made me feel like I finally got this motherhood thing figured out and I’m just totally crushing it. And I’ve also had moments that made me feel like an absolute failure as a mother, undeserving of my own children.

Mostly I just want to do right by my kids.

I don’t need movies or TV shows or influencers to show me how to parent my children, but it’s unlikely I’ll stop comparing myself to them anyway.

The one thing I wish I could do, is go back in time and tell first-time-mom-me that while these other mothers have advice, they don’t have answers.

They’re also not real. TV and movie moms are scripted. Of course they say the right things at just the right time.

And social media is scripted, too. Just in a different way. We’re not seeing what really happens in their lives. We’re seeing what they choose to share. It’s a limited view and we’re mostly making assumptions.

Everybody knows this and yet we still believe the lie because it’s a beautiful fantasy. It’s appealing and comforting and we want it to be true because the idea of a motherhood like that does sound truly lovely.

*****

At the beginning I said that I didn’t idolize my own mother when I became one, which is true. But as I have moved through motherhood, I’ve noticed the many ways that she has shaped parts of my motherhood. Ones that feel important.

Like how I make handmade cards for my kids on their birthday. And how I require them to make handmade cards for their friends birthdays, for Valentine’s Day, and for their teachers. My mom taught me that handmade cards and something written from the heart matters a lot.

I frequently joke that I am currently in my chauffeur era, but I have nothing on my mom, who drove me and my brother all over the place. This was in the 90’s when there were no podcasts to keep you company. No smartphones while you’re waiting for your kid to be done with whatever they’re doing. Just lots and lots of driving, often in traffic.

My mom has also always been my biggest supporter. In high school, she’d stay up late with me, helping me finish articles for the school newspaper, typing while I dictated to her. She supported me in going to college for photography and then supported me when I radically switched careers and became a yoga teacher, only using my fine arts degree for well composed selfies. And then when I started this substack, she was one of my first paying subscribers.

These are 3 small examples.

The reason I share them is not just to make sure my mom knows that she impacted my motherhood in important ways, but also to say that there isn’t an “ideal mother.” Aspiring to an ideal only makes us feel less than we actually are and makes it harder for us to see the good we do.

And also, the way we mother is pieced together from many different places. It’s not based on one, perfect mom who has the most photogenic instagram feed. Our mothering comes from multiple sources. It’s shifts and grows over time.

We repair when things go wrong. We adjust and adapt. We learn and we grow.

We’re not aiming for an unattainable ideal.

We’re aiming for something much healthier.

*****

Big thanks to the moms who shared some of the moms who inspire/influence their motherhood. In particular,

Kerala Taylor

reminded me of Clair Huxtable, who I hadn’t thought of in years, but was absolutely a huge part of my understanding of motherhood as a kid. Thanks, Kerala for helping me with an important part of this essay. Also Wendy, Kaitlyn, Soph, Asha, and Chanel, whose insights helped shape what I’ve written here.