Confession: I’m not the mother I thought I would be

I’ve mentioned before that I’m working my way through Babyproofing Your Marriage, right?  It’s a good read and I find myself nodding in agreement at least three times on every page. Except for one thing.  

The part where it says that the mother is the protective, gentle parent. 

Also.  Over the last few weeks I’ve read blog posts by other great mommas who talked about their protective nature, their response when the baby cries and their love of having the baby close.  I identify with them.  Sort of.  Erika talks about how she and her husband are so different when it comes to parenting.  Uh huh, totally with you.  And  Brandee talks about how she’s not the mother she thought she would be.  Yep, that, right there.   

I am not the mother I thought I would be. But in a different way.

I’m not the gentle parent.  I’m not the parent that jumps when my daughter cries.  I’m not the parent that hoovers over her like a helicopter to keep her from bumping her head. 

The week before I went back to work, I wanted to move C to her own room.  In all honesty, she was outgrowing the bassinet.  But also, I was afraid it would be a tough transition and wanted it to be over before I had to be in heels and a skirt at 8AM.  The first night of putting her to bed in her own room, it was Craig wholooked at me and said, “why do we have to do this again?” 

Now that she sleeps through the night, when she stirs at 3 or 4 in the morning, I wait it out.  Often times, I take the monitor out of the room and wait outside her door.  Because if he hears her, he’ll go to her.  And I know that if I wait, just five minutes, she’ll drift back to sleep.  But if we pick her up, she’ll be up for an hour. 

When I pictured Craig and I as parents, I pictured him tossing the baby in the air, while I cringed and chastised him to be careful and “don’t drop her.”  But now, in my living room, you’ll find me wrestling with baby, tickling her to hear the belly laughs and letting her test her boundaries and bump her head while I get the side eye and the “be CARE-ful”  from my husband. 

When I think about the mother I thought I would be and the mother I’ve become, I’m not sure whether to be proud or ashamed.  Some days I feel like it makes me cold and uncaring.  I worry that I will push her too much as she grows up. I worry that I will always be the one to tell her “no”.   Is he parent that makes her stick to a bedtime, lets her throw the tantrum and doesn’t give in, the same parent that doesn’t let her quit at soccer after the season starts or pushes her to take her SAT’s one more time? Is that the parent who judges too much, too quickly and pushes too hard?

And other days, I’m proud that I know my daughter will not break. She will cry when occasionally when I put her down for a nap, but she will still grin at me when she wakes and I pick her up.  She will hurt herself on the corner of furniture and on our tile floors as she learns to crawl and (God help me) walk.  But she will get back up and try again. 

Am I alone in this? Does anyone else worry about the parent they will become when their child hasn’t even celebrated a birthday?  Are you the good guy at home or the bad guy? Do I worry too much about what the books say, that I lose a connection to my kid? Is it different between mothers and sons or dads and daughters?

I’m accepting that there’s a balance between Craig and I as parents.  And if I had to guess we’ll switch good guy, bad guy roles many times as C grows up.  I may be the parent that makes her go to bed and clean her room, but he’ll be the one to greet the boys at the door.