What happened when this woman realized that she was still the loudest mother in tokyo

At the beginning of the year, a friend invited a group of friends over to create our “Vision Boards” for the New Year.

A total novice to the term, I showed up fully unaware and very intrigued.

We gathered for our vision-boarding session ‘round the table, armed with scissors, magazines and healthy supply of pinot. We were instructed by our host to pull out magazine pages, which “spoke to us” and then organize them on our boards. We worked in a most concentrated fashion, mingled with intermittent stories cum reflections. 

The next two hours passed in this manner, we were a group, but very much working in our individual bubbles. Sometimes we chatted and sometimes we were silent. It felt nice, even cathartic. 

At the end of the session, I had managed to get all the glossy pictures cut out, fitted around one another and mounted on my board. When I looked at it, I felt quite certain it summed up my vision for myself in 2018. It was feminine – yet daring, glamorous and edgy, sporty and modern and spiritual. All of the things I thought of my self, or my “best self”.

I walked home that night a bit smug. My vision board-self was going to kick 2018’s ass.

The next morning, over their breakfast, my children saw the vision board. “Mommy, what is that?” 

“It’s a vision board.”

“What’s a vision board?”

“It is a picture of oneself.”

“Who made it?”

“I did.”

“You didn’t make that.”

“You don’t think so? Why?”

“Because it doesn’t look like you.”

I am pretty sure that I almost threw the board away, or possibly at one of the children.

I could not believe that they didn’t see what I saw. I think I even felt slightly embarrassed. It made me wonder what my children think of me?

It brought me back to the Japanese concept of 和 (Wa), or the focus on harmonious living, which I found very attractive when I first moved to Japan. I even wrote about wanting to explore this concept in my own life, intermingled and influenced by the concepts of Wabi, the sense to appreciate the beauty of minimalism, and Sabi, the beauty of feeling something profound and affluent in stillness. I wrote, “I can imagine communicating with higher context – speaking less, but with more meaning.”

I began to ponder how those around me have created their own vision of Stacie.

Specifically, in my role as a mother, am I being realistic about who I am and how I am shaping my children? If my kids didn’t see me on that vision board, who do they see? Do they like her better? How does this relate to my pursuit to live harmoniously? 

I decided to take stock of where I was right now as a mother – and make sure that I like it. 

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I am (over)protective.

Three weeks into parenthood I was over-tired and fiercely determined to get it right. One particular night, I swaddled my preemie twins, put their little caps on and tucked them into their Moses baskets. I made sure to keep them warm and snuggly, just as the midwife had shown me. 

It happened to be the same night that the maternity nurse arrived to save me from pure exhaustion. I was very vulnerable and I think what happened next shaped the next years of my life, through simple, well-intended advice. The maternity nurse took one look at those little babies, all snug as bugs in rugs and immediately asked me if I ever heard of cot death? She continued to clarify just what happens to babies who are too warm. 

From that moment on, I have been pretty much scared of everything that might possibly, potentially, hypothetically hurt my kids. 

So I am akin to the Helicopter Mom. I get her.  Her protective nature feeds into that Virgo, are my kids safe?, (bad) crazy party of my personality. 

Despite my freaky need to control, I embrace that this is one of my less-than-perfect mothering habits (which, for the record, spills into almost every other area of my life too). I also have good friends that pick on me constantly about it,  but are also right there to advise, hold my hand and guide me to let my 10 year olds to walk from school to the park on their own. 

The children know I am a worrier, too. They even tease me about it and I am the source of endless jokes in our home. But they know I care, even if it is over-bearing at times. And, in turn, I try to let them go little by little….

I am a bit tired.

Growing up issues, medical questions, social topics, teaching a boy table manners! Sometimes I feel the responsibility first. Sometimes all of it becomes a tad overwhelming and really not fun.

As I was critically wading thru yet another big decision in my professional career a good friend told me that I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for (when it comes to parenting) and I try to hold on to that as much as I can.  When I am in the middle of my dark, self-pitying moments, or when it actually is rough going in the parenting department, I use her advice to cheer myself up a little. 

I listen to my friend’s words and remind myself that I am the mom who made all of those decisions – the good and the bad.

I loved my career. I love taking risks. I love figuring it out. I like being a mom to three little beasts, who challenge me each and every day. Even when this means that I relate a bit too much to the Exhausted Mom.

So, in my house, we make fun of mommy who needs her 8 hours of sleep each and every night. Who has to go for her runs and have a house full of flowers. She has to speak to her own mommy at least 3 times a week. And she has to have down time. She needs her friends and she likes a glass or two of bubbles. Otherwise she is exhausted. 

My addiction to perfectionism might just kill me.

I don’t know why I do that? Why on earth do I give myself such a hard time when the house is messy, uniforms are un-ironed or the children eat leftovers again? Why do I accept this fully in other mothers but not for myself? Why does my Perfect Mom madness kick in and spoil the fun? 

Like most children, mine are at their happiness when I relax a bit and “don’t notice” that they are wearing the same clothes two days in a row. Or when dinner is pasta with butter. Or when an afternoon at the park ends up with a house-full of friends and video games and movies while the parents drink wine and laugh. 

Those are good days. But, there are days when I am totally frazzled (can you say Hot Mess Mom?) and nights when I go to bed, simply content if I’ve managed not to lose or injure a child. 

Sometimes the issue of the day, the commitments, the appointments or the social schedules zap my energy.

Some days I wonder if there actually is a mother who can manage to always have her shit together. 

On these kinds of days, I don’t sweat the small stuff. I am focused on whatever weird problem I am trying to solve and I let all of the little things go.  So, even if I am a whirlwind of activity and run around like a headless chicken (and probably still in my running kit from yesterday) these are probably the days my kids like the best. 

So, I try to keep it real.

Motherhood is a hard job. It is often thankless and misunderstood and we have almost no clue from day to day on which way to go. 

I don’t keep this from my children. When I am feeling particularly out-of-sorts, or totally out of my league, I practice full disclosure. I will tell them that this is a “moan-free-zone” or that I have a 5 minute “time-out” from them. In those 5 minutes (or could be a half hour, who is counting?) I am free to browse Instagram, to talk on the phone or do any other activity on my own. They fully accept my rule of only come to me if you are “bleeding from the head”.  It isn’t pretty, possibly not even nice. But, it’s real. 

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But Where is the Wa?

Why don’t my children see me in my vision board? They seem to know exactly who I am. It seems to me that they know (almost) every upside and downside I have as a mother. It even seems that they accept my little idiosyncrasies. Isn’t this harmony? I try to approach motherhood with the gentleness of spirit that is Wa.

I believe that this year, living alone as a unit of 5 in a strange land, has done something weird and wonderful to us all. For me, the newly found liberty of not working has been freeing and changing. It has allowed me to explore so many other ideas, concepts and passions. I have started following my heart more, have begun not worrying too much about what I should be doing. I don’t always get it right, but I have tried to use this time to explore new territories. 

Before living in Tokyo, I didn’t volunteer at school or join the parents’ association. I didn’t take day trips to see funny bridges or discounted pottery. I didn’t learn another language or fall in love with Pilates.

Before Japan, I wasn’t actually that sure I was a passionate mother.  I didn’t spend the time on it that other moms did.  I assumed they were better. I thought I was missing something. 

What has happened over the past year is that I have not been distracted with a young business or even the thought of working. I have just been “me”.  And, I guess I have realized that being the lucky mother of these three has evolved to me too. 

I believe in fairies. 

When I look back at that fun night, creating the vision board and drinking wine with new friends, I don’t know if it was Wabi Sabi or a fairy sitting on my shoulder.  But, cutting out those sparkly images from the magazines, in cool greys and pink tones became so much more than personal goal setting for me. 

Like many others, I have a certain guilt that I’ve carried with me for a long time.

For me, this is the guilt of  (firstly) leaving my full-steam-ahead, financially rewarding career to make a go of it on my own and then (secondly) stopping again to move to Japan. 

But this year I have begun to realise a couple of important things. I don’t have to be wonder mom. I don’t have to be in the best shape of my life. I don’t have to be able to speak to the cab driver in Japanese (although that one would be helpful). 

I am not sure if I have embraced Wabi or that Sabi has been a game-changer for me. I am pretty sure I am still the loudest mother in Tokyo and that I struggle to wrap my head around the simple concept of “less”. 

But it is all good and the harmony is there….just waiting to be noticed! That vision board is my little snapshot of Wa.

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