What Kids Need Most in a Mom

me.

Introduction

When I wrote What Kids Need Most in a Mom in 1986, the managing editor of Revell said, This book is destined to become a classic. I hoped she was right, and as it turned out she was. I loved writing this bestselling book for and about moms. It was and is the book of my heart. As a mother of teenagers, I wanted to share my successes, give encouragement, and reduce the guilt and fear so many mothers have. I also felt it important to share my experiences, difficulties, and failures with others.

I’m thrilled that the book has been updated and released a number of times over the years. The amazing thing is that it is as needed today as it was when I first wrote it. Children continue to present challenges and parents continue to face them. I love having written What Kids Need Most in a Mom because it has been a help to so many mothers who are experiencing frustration and guilt, and who at times are desperate for someone to understand and offer practical help.

One such mother, whom I’d never met, called me one evening at the end of her rope. I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m desperate and don’t see how I can go on anymore. I didn’t know who else to call. You see, I’ve been reading your book and I just knew you’d understand.

She went on to tell me the problems she was encountering in trying to rear four children plus go to school and work. I listened with an empathetic ear and was able to give her reassurance and support. Before she hung up, she thanked me. Had I changed anything for her? Her problems remained much as they had been when she’d first called, but she could now go back to them with renewed strength, knowing she was not alone.

Another mom, whom I met while speaking at a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) gathering, told me she’d read my book during one of the lowest moments of her life. I was sick and tired of parenting books that made me feel guilty, she said. A friend of mine gave me your book and told me to give it a try. I said I would, but warned her that if it didn’t help I was throwing it in the ocean. She grinned. It was great and you didn’t make me feel guilty. I recommend it to moms all the time.

I certainly was not the perfect mom, and there are a number of things I would do differently if given the chance. Some years ago I confessed some of my shortcomings to my daughter Caryl. She chuckled and said, You couldn’t have been all that bad of a mom. Look how great I turned out.

I was and am a good mom—for the most part. This I learned while getting my master’s degree in counseling and while seeing my children interact with other children. Over the years, I’ve experienced the joys and heartaches of seeing my children and grandchildren grow into mature adults—wondering at times if they ever would.

I’ve been a mom for 44 years now. My children, David and Caryl, whom you’ll get to know quite well in this book, are grown with children of their own. This year, my darling daughter became a grandmother. Which, of course, makes me a great-grandmother. Madelyn Marie is the light of our lives. I’m so happy that at 63, I am young enough to thoroughly enjoy her. My husband Ron and I have seven grandchildren, all of whom we adore. Let me tell you, of all the things I have done well in my life, having grandchildren tops the list. They are wonderful. Being grandparents is God’s way of giving us another chance to enjoy and appreciate children—while their parents do the hard work of rearing them.

As I write this I am in Grand Forks, North Dakota, staying with my daughter and her family. (By the way, this is one thing I would do differently: I would brainwash my children to live closer to me and not halfway across the country.) In a few days, my oldest granddaughter will be getting married and I am so excited that I can be here. Yes, she is Madelyn’s mother and I’m thrilled to be able to pass along occasional words of wisdom. Sometimes she even listens. I’d like to protect her from the struggles parents go through.

What Kids Need Most in a Mom is a book that not only offers practical help and advice, it also offers hope and encouragement. In the end, you will not be perfect. Despite what Mother’s Day cards tell us, mothers seldom are. However, I believe you will come out stronger and more self assured, and determined to be the best mom you can be.

Harriet Beecher Stowe said, I long to put the experience of fifty years at once into your young lives, to give you at once the key of that treasure chamber, every gem of which has cost me tears and struggles and prayers, but you must work for these inward treasures yourselves.

My prayer is What Kids Need Most in a Mom will help you to be the mom your kids need, and will help you enjoy the journey.

Blessings,

Patricia H. Rushford

1

Musings of Another Mother

Becoming a mom comes easily enough for most of us. You get pregnant and poof, you’re a mother. Being the mom your kids need, however, is not quite so easy. While giving birth to a baby is considered labor, the true labor starts when you bring your baby home and begin the sometimes painful process of mothering.

Writing a book about kids and what they need most in a mom was not an easy task, especially for an imperfect mom. But there were thoughts and ideas I wanted to share, pitfalls I wanted mothers to avoid, stories I wanted to tell … so I set to the task, eager to get it all into my computer.

I’d no sooner started writing when the phone rang. It was my son, David, calling from California—I live in Washington.

Hi, Mom, he said with a smile in his voice. What’s up? (He starts all his calls that way.)

Nothing much, I gave my usual answer.

I got a new job.

Really? That’s good. I was wishing he were closer to home and maybe going to college. But I didn’t say so.

How’s Dad?

Fine. He’s playing basketball. He’ll be sorry he missed you.

Well, tell him I said hi … and that I love him.

I will. I paused for a moment. Dave? I have some good news. I’m writing another book.

Oh yeah?

"It’s called What Kids Need Most in a Mom. Would you write a paragraph or two for me? You know, tell me what you needed most in a mom."

I suddenly felt embarrassed, shy, and fearful. What if I hadn’t fulfilled his needs? What if he looked at me as a failure? I certainly had my down times—times when I yelled too much or didn’t pay enough attention.

Sure, Mom. His warm voice interrupted my phantom fears. That’s easy. You’re the best mom a guy could have.

We talked a bit longer and hung up. I was elated. Do you have any idea what it means to hear your grown son say you were the best? Of course you do. My goodness. His comment would lift my spirits for months. And it wasn’t even Mother’s Day.

Even though my son’s words warmed me, I knew they weren’t entirely true. I hadn’t been the best. It wasn’t from lack of trying. But it’s the final analysis that counts. If my son wants to think I’m the best, I’m certainly not going to argue the point.

If I’d Known Then What I Know Now

Almost any mom who’s been around for a while will agree that being a mom is a learning process. By the time we get this business of mothering pretty well figured out, our kids have become adults who don’t think they need to be mothered anymore and who, strangely enough, begin to parent us. Now that I think I know what kids need most in a mom, mine are all grown up and have children of their own.

Even so, they often call asking for advice or encouragement, or just to talk. They talk about dreams and plans, about careers and marriage and having babies. While they don’t need me to nurture them in the way I did when they were younger, they still need a mom.

Pigtails and Super Glue

I met my good friend Linda, mother of three children under six, for lunch one day. I was still euphoric over the phone call from my son.

How neat, Linda said. Your kids always share with you and let you know what’s happening, don’t they?

I nodded. About once a week. Then, remembering a time they weren’t always so thoughtful, I said, They’re improving with age.

I hope my kids will care about me and want my advice when they grow up. But then, you’ve got an edge on parenting, I mean being a nurse and all. That must have helped.

I suppose, that and the fact that I could have opened a library with all the pop psychology books I bought on child rearing.

How did you do when they were two?

I’d rather not talk about it. Why do you ask?

Oh, I don’t know. Linda frowned. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing great as a mom. Other times I feel as if they’d be better off being raised in the jungle by a mama hyena.

Well, they’d get a lot of laughs that way.

Very funny.

Mothering hasn’t been easy for me, either, I said. I went through some hard times figuring out the ingredients that go into the making of a mom. I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table.

Well, in that case, tell me what you know so I won’t have to learn everything the hard way.

You want my life story over lunch?

I’m serious. What do you know now that you didn’t know then and wish you had? Did that make sense?

I laughed. Yeah. You want me to tell you what I would do differently if I could do it all again. You want me to tell you about my mistakes so you won’t make them. And you want me to tell you about the things that worked so you can try them.

Right.

Since that would take a bit longer than our lunch break, why don’t I write you a book—I was thinking about doing one anyway.

"Great idea, but don’t write it just for me. I know a lot of moms who need all the help they can get. You could call it Real Moms Don’t Eat Baby Food."

Cute. I chuckled. I’ll lay it on my publisher. Did you? Eat baby food, I mean?

I’m not telling.

Oh, come on … I’ll confess if you do.

What, and blow my image? Not a chance.

Knowing I wasn’t going to get the confession I wanted and understanding her need to save face, I changed the subject. "I think we’re going to title it What Kids Need Most in a Mom."

Not bad. Let me know when it comes out. I know a couple dozen moms right now, including me, who could use it. But hurry, will you? This has been one heck of a day. Jeremy needed something different for show-and-tell, so he took my sewing shears and cut off Penny’s pigtails.

You’re kidding. What did you do?

"I swatted his bottom and yelled a lot. Then I cried.

He patted my arm and said, ‘I’m sorry, Mommy, I won’t do it again.’ I hugged him and said I hoped not. I went to wash my face, and when I came back into the kitchen, Jeremy and Penny were grinning like Cheshire cats. ‘Jay fix it, Mommy,’ Penny said. She turned around to show me. Two lopsided tails hung from her tousled curls, held in place with gobs of Super Glue.

Practical Help for Moms

Linda was right. There are a lot of mothers who need the practical help and encouragement my book offers. (I certainly could have used a book like this when I was younger.) Oh, and guilt—guilt is like an addiction to so many moms. They need to get it out of their systems. I’ll wean them off guilt and start them on solids like forgiveness and contentment.

I’ll offer time-tested advice and actual case studies from my thirty-five years of firsthand experience. To that, of course, I’ll add the advice my kids gave me. (They were never too shy to tell me when they thought I’d done something wrong.)

Let’s move into part 1 of this book and take a close look at the myths that make a lot of moms feel as if they’re in danger of failing motherhood.

PART 1

Mything Out on Motherhood

Are you mything out on motherhood because you can’t live up to all the expectations piled on top of you? Do you find yourself spinning hopelessly on a merry-go-round of responsibilities that seems to be going nowhere fast? Have you had it up to your hair follicles with ideal-parenting theories? Are you located somewhere under a ton of guilt, but can’t quite figure out where?

Before we try the keys that can lead to better mothering, let’s take a look at those timeworn myths and ideals that so often put us moms in seemingly impossible places.

In chapter 2 we’ll talk about the mythical, mystical, magical mom. She’s the lady in the Mother’s Day cards who can do no wrong and whose perfection has, at times, made many moms, including me, feel like a lily at the bottom of a dung heap.

Chapter 3 will explore the facade of the perfect parent and hopefully keep you from falling off the pedestal of high ideals.

The fourth chapter will expose the ever-popular and intimidating Super Mom for who she really is—a threat to our children and to our sanity.

2

The Mythical, Mystical, Magical Mom

There is one holiday that strikes fear in the hearts of mothers everywhere. Mother’s Day. It’s that day when we must stand up and be measured against the standards set forth on millions of cards.

On Mother’s Day I usually wake up with a headache. Will anyone remember that I’m a mother? Did my behavior over the past year warrant a gift from the kids?

A few years ago, I experienced a Mother’s Day that started out to be one of the worst days of my life. It didn’t feel like Mother’s Day. It seemed more like winter. The nest was empty, my branches barren. Months—years ago—my seedlings flew into the wind. My son, then nineteen, had struck out on his own.

I woke up that morning thinking of him, wondering if he’d call to wish me a happy Mother’s Day. If guilt had been a racket, I’d have been the ball being beaten against the wall.

Throughout the morning, my memory drifted back to every mistake I’d ever made as a mother. Nothing seemed bad enough to deserve this—being neglected on Mother’s Day.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he’d forgotten. Then I realized that with all the hype from advertisers, he’d have to be isolated in the remote regions of Tibet not to remember.

He must have been in an accident, I mused. Why else would he forget me? Then I decided he’d better have been in an accident because that was the only excuse I could accept.

The day was drawing to a close. It was two in the afternoon and not a word from him. By this time I was getting angry. Then guilt whopped me again. I felt bad by the time four o’clock rolled around.

At 4:10 the doorbell rang. The florist delivered a long-stemmed red rose. For me? I closed the door, hardly daring to breathe. Could it be? I read the card. Happy Mother’s Day was written in fancy script letters across the top. Beneath the formal heading the bold scrawl said, I love you, Mom.

What did I do? You guessed it. I sat down and bawled. A short time later David called.

Did you get the rose?

Oh, yes. Thank you so much.

Is it nice?

It’s beautiful. They put it in a milk glass vase and tucked in baby’s breath and a feathery fern.

That’s neat. After a few minutes of catching me up on his latest escapades, he announced, Well, I gotta go. I just wanted to call and see if it came and tell you I love you.

What can I say? He remembered. What I’d nearly pegged