Mom Shaming is Anti-Family
attachment parenting + hyper scrupulosity
Earlier this week, my latest middle grade book was released into the world. I didn’t have extravagant plans; in the past I’ve had launch parties or family celebrations, but I’m really feeling the pre-holiday hustle this year and just feeling exhausted. I knew that what I wanted was to buy a fancy dessert, go visit the book at my favorite local indie with my family, and ask my husband to clean the kitchen after dinner. Really—that was what I wanted to do.
And I did get my croissant (if you live near Muskego, WI, please go to the Gingerbread House and get a cream cheese croissant immediately if you want your life changed). But just as I was heading into the library for a joyful little solo-peruse, I got a phone call. Every working mom’s least favorite phone call: from school, at 10 AM.
Because school never calls you at 10 AM just to tell you things are going swimmingly. Nobody hops on the phone to be like “hey, your son slayed that math test!” or “your daughter’s demonstrating really terrific leadership today”. No. Every single mom knows the only reason school is calling at 10 is because shit has hit the fan.
And sure enough, it was good ole Nurse Gail. Someone had barfed. Come get ‘em.
So the day came to an abrupt end. The rest of it was spent cleaning breakfast-vomit out of a couch, being persuaded to let The Patient try toast, then cleaning toast-vomit out of a blanket. K brought me flowers, which was very kind, and did, in fact, clean the kitchen after a dinner of frozen pizza. I let the girls watch a movie on my laptop in their room as a special treat. I read a stack of Jan Brett picture books aloud and rubbed a lot of backs. When the kids were asleep K + I watched a documentary about World War 2, which is honestly my idea of a great time.
It was disappointing that I didn’t get the dreamy, laidback, celebratory launch day of my dreams, but also not that disappointing. Two different friends sent me the same response when they heard the news—Classic.—because it really is so, so classic. I’m simply used to disappointments as a mother, and I don’t say that in some kind of sad, self-pitying way. It’s actually a gift more often than not. I’m so very used to schedules being shifted, a potty accident disrupting a stolen moment of peace, kids’ bad attitudes ruining otherwise pleasant afternoons, nice furniture getting scribbled on, screaming matches breaking out post-dinner, and yes, of course, barfing children putting an abrupt end to plans. It reminds me that every good thing really is a gift, and that not getting The Perfect Day is completely fine. It’s good for us to be just a little without, because we’ll be all the more fulfilled when all earthly annoyances have ended. It reminds us that our lives are simply not our own, and shouldn’t be focused on our own comforts but instead pointed towards our vocations and the Lord’s will for our days.
My family comes before my career, always. And I love my career. It is an absolute joy to write books and this newsletter. But I’ve dropped work to-dos like hot potatoes when a little one needed me.
I also work. And I stick my kids in the arms of safe, qualified, joyful childcare workers in order to do so. Pieces like this have a serious problem with that.
The essay is on the idea of maternal detachment, defined by the author as when “the mother doesn’t have a healthy attachment to her child”. She claims this is “the norm” in modern day America. Such a strong argument demands statistical (or at least well-researched) backup but there is none. Instead, there is the insinuation that daycare facilities, cry-it-out methods, and “contraptions like: the ‘snoo’, medication1, bottles + formula, pacifiers, weighted blankets, nannies, etc.” are leading to babies experiencing complete detachment from their mothers.