"What my child truly needs is a parent who’s happy and accepts themselves for who they are." Photo / Getty Images
Opinion
At 9pm on the eve of my son’s daycare graduation, I made a mad dash to the supermarket with one clear mission in mind: cupcakes.
No, not to get the ingredients for cupcakes I would carefully make, decorate, and cater to the allergy-friendly and beyond.
Instead, my goal was to find them perfectly encapsulated in a plastic shell, pre-iced, and ideally 27 mini ones in the flavour vanilla.
This was the request put to me by my son for his “special moment” and backed by his ECE centre.
And when I found those final three packs of nine perfectly iced cupcakes, waiting for me on the wire racks of Countdown, I exclaimed, “F***ing nailed it.”
But when I returned home from my mission, I realised the next time he’d have a “special moment” would be when he was leaving for school. I was panged with sadness at the realisation my time with a pre-schooler was slipping away and left questioning if I had made the right choices.
Had I been there enough? Had I focused too much on work? Would he remember me as someone who didn’t play enough and spent too much time on her phone? Was I, as a parent in his early years, actually enough?
As the emotions and guilt came to a head, I felt desperate to do something memorable with this time and obliterated my and my husband’s Airpoints balances, booking just me and my son a one-week trip for two to Fiji, coinciding with my husband being away for six weeks.
The next day after his graduation – which I made by the skin of my teeth due to a meeting that ran over time – I announced to him that Mum was taking him on a trip to Fiji.
I will never forget the look on his face when I told him. He burst into my arms, screamed with joy and declared to me that he wanted to see a turtle, a dolphin, whales and a “Fijian blood worm”.
His joy was pure, the element of surprise was perfect and his wish list for the trip was nothing short of the chaos I would expect from the child I am raising.
But it was also in that moment I realised that I’m nothing like the parent I thought I would be.
My son doesn’t have a “traditional” household: his mother works full time in a job that is all-consuming, not always allowing me to be there for some moments. I move hell and high water to be there for the big ones, but my husband is the one who takes him to swimming lessons, fluffy dates, and the library, and the pair document their duo trips to the barber.
My husband doesn’t feel out of place being the only dad on the sidelines at swimming, and I don’t feel out of place being the only mother (who will admit to) peeling the price sticker off cupcakes before graduation.
I’m not bothered that I’m not the cupcake parent, the parent who stays up late baking and showing their love through the gift of food and some late-night crafting. Or the parent who loves the extracurricular-activity shuttling and car park chats about sleep schedules and playdates. That type of parent is amazing – it was the mother I and so many of us had - and it’s the mother I thought I would be. But it turns out that’s simply not me.
I would go as far as to say I don’t enjoy that side of things at all - and that admission doesn’t make me any less of a great parent. I haven’t failed him because those things fill me with dread and I’m not particularly good at them. My son doesn’t feel any less loved, happy or safe.
What matters to me, and to him, are the core memories we are able to make together. The type of memories that will shape his answer to the question in years to come, “What’s your mum like?”
When we landed in Fiji my son held my hand everywhere we went, proudly declared to staff that he was there with “my mama” and even had an unsuccessful crack at ordering a cocktail.
And yes, I stayed somewhere with a phenomenal kids’ club – praise be to Sofitel Resort and Castaway Island – where I watched my only child thrive while Mum stole an hour or so of well-earned relaxation each day and he made lasting friendships. It was perfect for us both.
My son felt safe and happy as he saw crabs, stingrays and fish, and learned how to negotiate with other kids over the correct way to build a sandcastle.
In realising I’m just not a certain type of mother, he and I became so much more compatible too. My stress level decreased (but maybe that was just Fiji?) and I stopped feeling so damn guilty about underperforming to the pre-kid expectations I had of myself.
I also realised that a 4-year-old is the best mate you could want on holiday, declaring, “That’s okay, Mama” anytime something wasn’t quite picture perfect and taking my hand for a dance at bonfire night.
While I always knew I was an incredibly capable parent, taking a child abroad and thriving, not just surviving, made me see that the mum I was, was more than enough.
Back home this ethos has continued and while I acknowledge the privilege (and Airpoints) of my situation to book a trip on a whim, that’s not really what it’s about.
Maybe when I’m on a phone call and a tiny hand reaches out and asks for a Transformer battle, I hang up for it? Or when he asks with a hint of cheek in his voice, “Can we stop for an icecream, Mama?” Maybe I just say yes for once even if it might spoil dinner. How much nutrition is in a chicken nugget anyway? Or when he sneaks out of bed for the 10th time at night, peeking around the corner to see if he’s been caught, maybe I let him hide under the blanket and watch a bit of TV?
Maybe I stop feeling so guilty about dreading another kid’s birthday party and never having wanted to be part of a coffee group like I thought I would and do what makes the both of us happy instead.
Because what my child truly needs is a parent who’s happy and accepts themselves for who they are. After all, how can we expect our kids to love who they are if we are apologising for our every action, failing or shortcomings?
So, for both of us, I found a place of acceptance in who I am as a parent and who I simply will never be. In doing so, he got perfect cupcakes, and I got a new-found joy in parenting.
Sure, when he’s asked that question, “What’s your mum like?” he might tell people that Mum’s a little bit chaotic, career-focused and a terrible baker, but he might also finish that sentence with, “But she’s the best.”
Jenni Mortimer is the New Zealand Herald’s lifestyle and entertainment editor. Jenni started at the Herald in 2017 and previously worked as an education publication editor. She’s also the host of The Herald’s parenting podcast One Day You’ll Thank Me, mum to Knox and spontaneous trip booker.
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