Imperfect Catholic Mama

I was laying in bed, nursing my baby, hearing screams down the hallway as Daddy and the kids played “Monster,” a current favorite in our house.

It consists of Daddy roaring and being scary and chasing the children. They love it! They scream in terror; They run in fear; and then they come back begging for more.

I love listening to the joyous sounds ring throughout my home. And then . . . I felt guilty.

My husband is so good at being playful with the children. After a full day of work, he just chases them and plays all evening. And he loves it! In fact, I’m never sure who’s having more fun: the kids or him. He doesn’t have to work hard to be playful, it just happens. And it’s not like he’s playing complicated games. He’s usually either throwing them or chasing them. His games don’t take a lot of mental planning or prep.

So why don’t I play monster with them? Why aren’t I more playful in general? What is wrong with me that I don’t just intuitively play with them like my husband does? How can I make myself more like him?

WOAH! Slow down.

God didn’t make me like him. God didn’t make me a daddy. He made me a Mama.

And maybe, Mama’s aren’t made to be the goofy, playful ones. Maybe, Daddy’s aren’t made to be the calm, comforting ones.

Something I read once said the oxytocin high kids get when playing with Daddy, they get when snuggling with Mama.

Should Mama’s be playful? I find it an incredibly helpful tool and it nurtures my relationships with my children. It’s also fun and I do personally struggle often to slow down, put down the dish sponge, and just delight in my children.

But that delight for us often looks likes snuggling on the couch and reading books, sitting and playing dolls, or building animal barns for my son’s farm. A more calm play.

Do we have fun being goofy and roughhousing? Yes. Do I want to make an effort to take those opportunities when my children ask for them? To some degree, yes.

But I don’t need to be the playful parent. I don’t need to be the one who loves chasing them around and screaming.

And maybe instead of trying to be like my husband, trying to act in a way that does not come naturally to me and “make” the playfulness happen, I could just take what I am given.

I can be the one that they come to when they hit their head in said game with Daddy and need comfort (as happens most every time). I can be the one that they want to snuggle up with and be held by.

When they want to play hide and seek, I can take that opportunity and delight in my children that way. Or, I could not. I can leave those playful games to Daddy and I can connect with them in another way. We can mix bread together, we can snuggle up and read books, we can do what is special to our relationship, rather then try to become what is delightful in another.

I often feel inferior that my children don’t ask to play monster with me. But my husband rarely gets asked to “ ‘old me!” And rarely do the children say “I want daddy!!!”

Now, do I wish they didn’t always and only want me? Absolutely. It’s exhausting always feeling needed. And it leaves me feeling like my husband gets to have all the fun and I have to do all the work. He gets the giggles and squeals of delight and fun, and I get the tears.

But what if instead of rebelling against this, I see God’s design and embrace it?

Maybe, Mama’s aren’t made to be the playful screaming, monster parent. Maybe, they are the ones children return to for calm and comfort.

Maybe, rather then trying to be someone I am not intuitively and trying to make myself like my husband, I can learn from him (slow down and have fun, yes!), but ultimately better understand my complementary role: to be our children’s place of calm and comfort.

It’s hard. It’s not easy being the one who always gets the tears and meltdowns. But maybe that is a gift, rather than a curse. In twenty years, I want my children to come to me with their sorrows and hardships. I want to hold them while they bear their hearts out to me. I want to be their place of calm and comfort, now and later.

We have a title of Our Lady of Sorrows, but not Our lady of Joy or Our Lady of Playfulness. Now, that’s not to say Mary didn’t have joy or that she wasn’t playful with Jesus, but maybe it shows that Mothers have a specialty capacity to hold sorrow, to hold the tears.

Mama’s and Daddy’s can learn a lot from each other, but I don’t need to be the parent my husband is. There’s a reason there are two of us and perhaps, just maybe ;), God designed this parenting thing to be complementary and for kids to get oxytocin, love, through different ways from different parents. And rather than fight against my natural inclinations and skills, I should embrace them. Literally.