The Ideal Mother

I did an interview yesterday, at the University of Maynooth. It centered around motherhood, around being an artist, around combining the two. 

The sentence “The ideal artist is still perceived to be a man, while the ideal parent is still seen to be a mother” left my beautiful lips. 

And that stopped me in my tracks for a second. Because, yes. Exactly. 

Close your eyes for a second, and think of a “writer”. Was it Hemingway? 

Close your eyes and think “parent”. Was it mommy?

I am as guilty as hell here, too. I do still have this ingrained perception of what it means to be an artist. And the fact that my motherhood never really crosses the line into my art is disheartening. Because my art is inherently inspired by my being a mother. I would not be the person I am today if I weren’t a mother. I would not be the artist I am, could not create the way I do, would not write the same types of stories if I weren’t. Motherhood is an integral part to my human experience. BUT. But. I am not just a mother. I am an artist, a writer, a million other things. Motherhood is not all that defines me, but I think often we let ourselves be defined like this too easily. 

Yes, one influences the other, but we ought to be capable of holding more than one identity within ourselves. 

As women, I think we are too often still put into categories. You’re either a mom, or an employee, or an artist, or a boss, or a wife, or a girlfriend, or a daughter. Never all of it at once. Never just a woman.

Men, I think, don’t face that as much. A man’s a man, whether he’s a father or not, whether he’s an artist or a lawyer or a builder. 

One of the major discoveries that I made during the conversation yesterday was that I do not think of myself as a “mother first”. Not even for a second. No. I’m a “mother, too”. My motherhood is on the exact same level of importance as my art, as my own personality, as my own achievements and goals. I’d never for a second put my career ahead of the wellbeing of my children, but neither would I (could I) completely disown to end my career for the sake of my children. I can (and have, and will again), put projects to the side, put them on hold, cancel them if my boys need me. But I’ll pick them up again once the work-life-balance has resumed. 

Why, then, do I feel a ping of guilt as I type this? 

Why, then, does my brain tell me that I ought not put it out into public that *gasp* I put my career ahead of my kids sometimes. Or *shock horror!* think of my art as equally important as my parenting. 

Being a rounded, wholesome, healthy person is integral to being a good mother. It is vital. You cannot parent well if you are not secure and whole. And being an artist, creating, writing… is what makes me rounded and wholesome. 

So, no. I am not just a mom. I am all of those things in equal measure.