Mother’s Day confessions of a mother: The guilt, chaos and love of raising teen boys

I have two sons: a pre-teen and a teen short of turning into an adult. And if the experiences of my mother raising me and my sisters are anything to go by, I won’t be surprised if I renounce motherhood soon because genes don’t lie. The last 17 years of being a mother have taught me many things and I’m going to do a mommy thing to share that with you — like it or not, a list.
1. Not a day goes by when I don’t tell myself I have failed as a mother. Did I overreact? Was I supposed to say yes or no or not say anything at all? Should I have kept my insanely good advice to myself? Am I ever right? The worst bit about this is you’re always encountering new challenges as a mother, which means you never know what’s the most appropriate thing to do. The ‘you’ll know how it feels when you’ll have your own child’ you heard a million times from your parents comes and bites you in the rear and you know you are seeing a mirror image of your younger stupid self. But I tell myself: hang in there, it must get better.

2. But does it? The slamming of doors, the high-pitched conversations, the ‘I want to leave this mad house’ reverberating through the house like a raga, make one feel like a sore loser. You tell yourself, ‘You got this. Breathe. Breathe some more. All bad things come to an end.’ Until they happen again and most times, they end in ‘I shouldn’t have said what I said or done what I did,’ or chocolates and hugs. There’s promises made to self that this will never happen again. I know better now.

From slammed doors to unexpected hugs, this is an honest reflection on guilt, growing children and the kind of love that never stops showing up (Photo: PR handout)

3. But do we? Are we better moms after all this? What does a better mom look like? One who exclusively nurses their baby till they’re walking and talking? Cooks high-protein meals? Plans amazing birthday parties and sleepovers? Reads books to them from the time they are a foetus and then even write for them (that’s legit, okay!)? Or then are we those who don’t know whether it’s day or night or those who have forgotten how to dress when they step out of the house or who can’t think beyond their kids?

4. But then should we think beyond them? Of all the things I remember about my mom in my growing-up years is her trying to squeeze in small businesses while still being the relentless mother that she was. Of how she made that switch from being in her nightgown to an elegant saree. Of doing her own facial when the family was asleep. Of that tiny bit of looking after herself while always looking out for us. I remember how it totally threw me off when my son once told me that only dads go to office because they had never seen me sweat for 18 hours in an office daily.

I know we always carry this guilt that we don’t do enough for our children and deal with the pressure of raising perfect kids in this crazy world. For better or for worse, I feel what matters is we show how we are individuals before being mothers, while showing up for them — when they need us and especially when they don’t need us.
I’ve waited endlessly outside their rooms because I know that soon the door will open and a pair of reluctant arms will wrap around me — that weight feels good, like you’re carrying once again. They’re not you, but they’re the best part of you. They may shove their armpits into your nose and laugh (boys do that) but only because they know you’re their safe place, your arms their safety net—it’s one pair of arms that will never ever push them away.

It’s a privilege to be a mother and I’m not going to take that lightly. And even though I may not be the recipient of the ‘Mom of the Year’ trophy, I’ll always find comfort in knowing that I’m trying the best I can. And that best is good enough.