mothering by ear

The girls and I had our violin lesson this afternoon. I realised sitting there watching them play that the lesson has become the highlight of my week. It's one of those treasured few moments when I feel unreservedly good about my girls and about being a mother. Greer is a reluctant player, her face screws up in disgust at the scratchy sounds she makes, yet in front of her teacher she comes alive, she makes a genuine effort. Isobella plays like the free spirit she is. She adds in her own flourishes and hates to stand still. But she starts at the beginning and she doesn't stop until the end. I sit there amazed, and I can't help smiling.

Earlier this week I read the editorial on mothering that Erica Jong wrote in the Wall St Journal. Her criticism of the attachment parenting philosophy seems to have got a few people talking. Here in New Zealand that term isn't common, but the principles of that philosophy are adhered to by many parents, particularly those who reject the "routine" type of baby care advice dished out by authority figures such as Plunket Nurses. Attachment parenting is a child-centred philosophy. Mothers who follow it usually sleep with their babies, breastfeed as long as possible, "wear" their babies in slings, and devote themselves to full-time child caring.

As I was driving home from the violin lesson I found myself thinking back over the article, and over my own parenting. When I was pregnant with our first daughter I was full of lofty ideals and strong opinions. I was going to have a natural childbirth and "breathe" the baby out, once she was born I would not force her into an artificial eating and sleeping pattern, I would breastfeed as long as she wanted, never leave her to cry herself to sleep, and had a sling ready to use so I could carry her close to me when we were out. I didn't know much about the term "attachment parenting" but if you'd described it to me, I would have agreed wholeheartedly. Then came the umpteen hours of labour, an emergency caesarean, and well, you can imagine, reality.

Reality was the body that was too sore to do much baby-in-sling wearing. Reality was walking around in shock for the first few weeks just wishing I could go back to being pregnant again. Reality was a baby (and subsequent babies) who were so noisy and active in their sleep that I could never get a good night's sleep in the same bed as them. Reality was breastfeeding that was difficult, and certainly not the easy take-anywhere business I'd expected it to be.

I read plenty of books over those first few months as a new mother. I could tell you about all sorts of parenting philosophies and why I agreed or disagreed with them. But in the end what gave me confidence and helped me find my way as a mother was not following a particular parenting philosophy, but rather listening to my own intuition, making it up as I went along. In other words, playing it by ear.

Erica Jong's editorial has sparked some pretty strong responses. Mothers have decried her rejection of what they see as the most nurturing and child-friendly way to parent. Some have been horrified at the lack of repentance for her absence as a working parent who "hired nannies, left my daughter at home, and felt guilty for my own imperfect attachment." Interestingly, Jong's daughter writes her own response to her mother's essay, where she describes her mother as "always working" and yet "as good a mother as she could possibly be."

Mothering is a complicated thing. We earnestly strive to do our best, and yet we can never quite shake off the knowledge that one day we will look back and regret something. Something we did or didn't do, said or didn't say. And so we carry on, stabbing in the dark, fingers crossed. If we find a book that promises perfect parenting, then it's not surprising we pay attention. If we watch other mothers, envious at their seeming confidence and ease, it's no wonder we try to emulate them. And when we find that to our immense relief what we are doing actually works, then of course we buy the t-shirt, get the season pass, join the club.

We need to stick up for each other, us mothers, because for all the washing machines and dishwashers, televisions and babysitters, mothering is not getting easier. Your club might work for you, and it might work so well you'd stake your life on it, but it isn't going to work for every mother. And that mother over the road, or standing next to you outside your child's classroom, or beside you at the supermarket checkout, deserves your support. Whatever she's doing, and in whatever style she is doing it, she is probably doing her best.

In the short time I've been a parent I've met and known and loved mothers who work, mothers who stay at home, and mothers who do both. I know mums who do cloth nappies and organic food, and mums whose sanity is a pantry full of pre-packaged snacks. I know mothers who are incredibly grateful for their televisions, and mothers who won't have one in the house. I know mothers for whom the exquisite joy of parenting was stolen from them by depression. I know mothers who were bored at home, who craved adult company, and found their best parent liberated when they returned to full-time work. I know homeschoolers and schoolers, child workers, teachers, lawyers and writers. I know mothers who swear by their routines, who have children that fall asleep and wake-up on schedule, and I know mothers who have slept with their children well into toddler hood. I've learnt so much from these women. They have helped me see different perspectives, given me fresh ideas, challenged my assumptions, and confirmed some of my privately held opinions. But that isn't even the point. The point is their kids. I like them all. They are interesting, full of life, and will grow up, I'm sure, to make a valuable and unique contribution to the world.

Mothering is personal. We are the mothers we are because of our personality, our family history, our current circumstances, our deepest beliefs, and the children we are raising. No other mother has the same set of factors as you or I do. Therefore no other mother will ever parent quite like you or I do, and there's no point expecting them to.

I am full of contradictions. I have three daughters, I home school, and I love nothing better than spending a day at home with them. But give me some time to myself, my laptop and a library and I'm in heaven. I know I'll look back on this period of life as one of my most fulfilling, yet I often find myself daydreaming about how life will look once my girls have all left home. I look forward to being old, to having a quiet house, and to being visited by family who go home afterwards. Am I doing a good job as a mother? There are only three women who are entitled to make this judgment. Right now they are asleep down the hall from where I sit, warm and safe. They'll let me know what they think.