The ideal mom and the half-assed mom
On the American ideal of motherhood
Since I had a baby nearly five months ago, people have frequently asked what has surprised me the most about motherhood so far. I knew the answer right away, without even thinking:
It’s not as terrible as everyone told me it would be? And I actually feel sort of guilty about that?
During pregnancy and maternity leave, I spent far too many hours scrolling through mom content on Tiktok. On MomTok, motherhood seems really, really fucking hard. In many ways, this is a good thing: people are more comfortable openly talking about the hard parts of pregnancy now. During Instagram’s peak, influencers made motherhood look easy and glamorous, when the reality for most regular moms was that it was anything but. In some ways, today’s Tiktok moms are doing other moms a service by talking about the hard, unglamorous parts of pregnancy and motherhood, helping connect with other moms who may wonder if they’re alone in their feelings.
After watching hours of MomTok content, I felt like I was well-prepared for what to expect. But they also scared the shit out of me. They told me I would probably never sleep for more than an hour at a time for many months, if not years. I’d never get to shower, I’d never be able to leave my baby’s side for more than an hour, I’d never have a social life again, I’d never read a long article or book again. Goodbye to having any time to write. Goodbye to my dream of writing a book. All of the things I loved doing before would no longer be possible once I became a mom. My life would never feel the same again.
In American society, motherhood is an all-consuming, 24/7 job. Moms are expected to devote themselves fully to the role of motherhood, suppressing any other interests, ambitions, or desires of their own. You must devote every waking minute to your child — and let’s be honest, also your non-waking minutes, because good moms are supposed to be waking up several times a night to feed their exclusively breastfed babies — and if you don’t, society tells you you’re a bad mom.
That depiction of motherhood is what made me feel quite guilty about what my reality actually looked like. I loved this little human I made, but I didn’t feel like I was a totally different person. I felt like the same person who cared about the same things as before, just with a very cute little daughter in tow. And I felt guilty that I did not, in fact, devote my every waking minute to her. I sometimes put her in her bouncer so I can write or finish reading a long New Yorker article. I occasionally go out to drinks with friends while my husband stays home with the baby. I shower every day. I occasionally let her watch Ms. Rachel (do not @ me about screen time, please). I did things that made my transition to motherhood easier, like sleep training, formula feeding, and going back to work full-time.
Of course, I recognize how privileged I am. I am exceedingly lucky to have generous paid maternity leave from my employer. I have a partner who is steadfastly committed to doing 50% of the childcare work and is as competent at all childcare tasks as I am. My partner also has generous paternity leave, which helped make our goal of a 50/50 division of labor an actual reality. I have the financial security to be able to afford childcare, though I’m still stressed about it, because the cost of childcare in America is absurd. I have resources and support and lots of things that helped make my transition to parenthood a little easier.
But I felt — and still feel, nearly every day — guilt. Guilt that my experience wasn’t as hard as it’s “supposed” to be. Guilt that I’m a bad mom for not being completely consumed by motherhood. Guilt that I didn’t sacrifice all the things I loved before having a kid. Guilt because I chose things that made my life easier, when the right way to be a mom seemed to require maximum suffering. Motherhood is supposed to be really hard, and if I’m not miserable, then surely I must be half-assing it, or just simply doing it wrong.
Something I think about a lot is that if you’re a father who does 50% of the childcare and domestic labor, you’re an amazing dad who goes above and beyond. If you’re a woman and you do 50% of the work, you’re only doing half — which means mediocrity, at best. (aka me, the mom who’s writing this newsletter right now while dad takes care of the baby.)
The ideal mother is also not supposed to be too ambitious, because her children are more important than anything else. Before the baby was born, people told me that I should completely unplug during maternity leave and never, ever think about or have any contact with work. Near the end of my leave, people frequently asked how I felt about going back to work, usually assuming that I was feeling sad to go back and not see my baby all day, because this is the “right” way moms are supposed to feel. The pressure to do maternity leave the “right” way and have the “right” feelings about work and my career made me once again feel guilty about the truth, which was that I was not sad at all to go back — I missed my job and was excited to return to the career that I loved and had worked so hard to establish. I didn’t feel guilty that I wanted to work; I felt guilty that I was a bad mom for wanting to go back to work — because how could a mother choose work over being by her baby’s side all day? I knew how lucky I was to have nearly four months of paid maternity leave, and yet I also felt kind of bored after the first two months and had been counting down the weeks until I could return. But I wasn’t supposed to ever admit that.
Moms are not to blame for the situation they’ve found themselves in, or for openly talking about how hard it can be. American society has built up the ideal mother as someone who is a selfless martyr, who devotes herself completely to her children, chauffeuring them to school or daycare and a million activities, serving only homemade organic meals and snacks, washing endless loads of laundry and dishes, maintaining a beautiful household, and maybe a working full-time job, if there’s enough time.
Dads are often referred to as “helping” their partners, a term that implies, even in 2022, that mothers are usually still the default parent. (Same-sex couples, on the other hand, tend to have figured out a much better division of responsibilities). For dads, it’s normal and acceptable to have a life and interests outside of parenting: dads get beers with their friends. They work out. They work long hours and miss bedtime. They take business trips that take them away from their kids for days. (I vividly remember reading an article years ago on the morning routine of the self-styled faux business guru Gary Vaynerchuk where he described all the things he did in the morning, including working out, reading the news, checking social media, and then he kissed his kids goodbye before they went to school. Wait, I thought, nowhere did he mention getting the kids ready in the morning, packing their lunches, making sure they got dressed and brushed their teeth and washed their faces. He didn’t mention who did all of that either, but I think we could probably all guess.)
And so while dads work out and read the news, moms shoulder the majority of the childcare, never taking time for themselves, because to do so would be considered selfish. Parenting today is more time-intensive than it was for any generation before, and moms by and large shoulder the majority of that labor. The New York Times reported in 2018 that working moms today spent just as many hours a week on childcare as stay-at-home moms in the 1970s. One mother quoted in the Times article said: “There’s this sense that something is wrong with you if you aren’t with your children every second when you’re not at work.” And the pandemic, of course, made everything worse, stacking the odds against mothers even more as daycares and schools closed and went remote and mothers became the social safety net. Motherhood in America is designed to be really hard, and there is virtually no support: no guaranteed paid maternity leave, no breastfeeding support, a formula shortage, and astronomically expensive childcare.
The ideal mother is supposed to gracefully juggle all of that, with no support, and make it look effortless and beautiful on Instagram. In return, she gets celebrated one day a year, and showers are considered a radical act of self-care rather than a mandatory part of basic hygiene. If she complains about any of it, she’s a bad mom. If she gives her kids screen time or processed snacks, bad mom. She’s supposed to feel guilty about working because that’s time spent away from her child. If she formula feeds, bad mom. If she goes out for a night with her friends and leaves the baby at home with dad, bad mom. If she misses bedtime because of a work dinner instead of rushing out the door at 5 on the dot, bad mom. If she buys Halloween costumes from the store instead of making them by hand, bad mom.
There is no way to win. No matter what type of mom you are, someone is ready to tell you you’re doing it wrong. You are always doing it wrong. I’m a half-assed mom and I’m fine with that.
Good things to read
One weird trick to forget about the housing crisis, Hellgate.
I can’t pass this on to my kids, The Cut.
The deadliest road in America, Vox.
Why do rich people love quiet? The Atlantic.
It’s getting harder to be a woman in America, Bloomberg.
As a child of immigrants, I feel guilty for embracing the minimalist aesthetic, Dwell.
The ‘Bobafication’ of American chain drinks is here, Bon Appetit.
The age of algorithmic anxiety, The New Yorker.
The hollowness of Tom Cruise, Vox.
In remote Alaska, meal planning is everything, Eater.
It’s time to stop living the American scam, New York Times.
American motherhood, The Atlantic. “My pregnancies could have killed me, but at least I chose them.”
Are you sure you’re not guilty of the millennial pause? The Atlantic.
Good things to cook
Salad-e-Shirazi, to make use of those summer tomatoes. Chicken and herb salad with Nuoc cham. BBQ salmon bowls with mango avocado salsa. Baked Mongolian beef meatballs. Slow cooker kung pao chicken.
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I’m a peds resident and I always tell the new moms at the newborn and subsequent well baby visits that you can’t take care of someone else unless you take care of yourself first, and one of the most important ways to have a healthy baby is to have a healthy mom. Also I think it’s so important to model behavior and norms for kids early, so I agree that kids should see their moms reading on the couch or taking time for themselves in ways that are important to them!
Don't feel guilt, and don't judge. Parenthood taught me those two mantras. I had two kids 19 months apart and I kept my job, my life, and my sanity. They're teens now, and my husband did and does pull his 50%. I realize I am very privileged. I worked 100% remotely at the time and kept my daughter home with me for over a year, nursing her exclusively for 6 months and then weaning her after she was a year old. Then I sent her to daycare down the street and did the same process for my son before sending him to daycare.
One interesting thing was that I was super relaxed and relieved with my son. I knew the sleepless nights would end, and I knew that it all goes by so quickly. Do whatever feels right for you. Until recently, parenting meant benign neglect and yet most people turned out ok.
Congratulations! If you are thinking of having more kids, I recommend having them close in age. It's madness for a bit - you're awash in spit up, drowning in diapers, need a double stroller, two car seats etc. Then magically that's all gone and they are entertaining each other. I'm so glad my kids had each other during COVID home school.