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- Once Upon A Time
- What If I’m the Villain in My Child’s Tale?
As I glance at the monstrous mothers featured in fairy tales, I can’t help but feel a twinge of concern: how do I balance my own needs with those of my children?
It’s 10 PM, and while I work tirelessly to squeeze a full day’s worth of tasks into the dwindling hours of the evening, the silence enveloping my home offers a much-needed escape from the constant chaos that only fades away once my three little ones are tucked in for the night. Yet, the calm is often interrupted around midnight when the baby stirs, ready for a feeding.
On flights, attendants remind passengers to secure their own oxygen masks before helping others during emergencies. This metaphor is frequently touted in parenting discussions as a reminder for self-care. At first glance, it’s logical—you can’t assist others if you’re gasping for air. However, upon closer examination, the analogy falters: often, there is no mask available, and your toddler may even be trying to nibble on it.
This scenario perfectly illustrates the delicate balance in the parent-child dynamic. I strive to generate income and pursue my creative interests, while my kids demand attention and nurturing. At times, fulfilling both roles simultaneously feels impossible. For mothers, who often face societal pressures to prioritize their children’s needs above all else, this struggle becomes even more pronounced.
I frequently recall a scene from Neil Gaiman’s beloved novella Coraline, which celebrates its twentieth anniversary this summer. In it, the protagonist, eleven-year-old Coraline Jones, finds herself bored exploring her new apartment, longing for her parents’ attention as they remain preoccupied with their own activities. Their indifference resonates deeply with my own experiences of trying to juggle work and motherhood, particularly in today’s fast-paced world where many of us work from home.
I admit, I lack the skills to effectively juggle these competing demands. My shortcomings in this role could have easily resulted in a dismissal from a traditional job long ago. Consequently, I worry that I might resemble Coraline’s parents. More troubling, I fear becoming the narrative’s antagonist: the Beldam, or “Other Mother,” who, with her button eyes, kidnaps Coraline and traps her parents.
The archetype of the evil stepmother is a staple of fairy tales, allowing children to express negative feelings towards their mothers while preserving the notion of a “good” maternal figure. In Coraline, the real parents are dismissive, while the Other Mother showers Coraline with attention and excitement, yet she is also fragile and needy, yearning for love. This stark contrast illustrates the duality of motherhood: we cannot be neatly categorized as either “good” or “evil,” as we are simply human.
I find myself caught in this same cycle, swinging between dedicating my energy to my children and retreating to my computer or phone, giving absent-minded responses to their pleas for attention. The Other Mother’s desperate need for love mirrors my own feelings of guilt when I struggle to meet my needs alongside those of my children. In my quest to be everything for everyone, I often overextend myself until I am utterly exhausted.
At times, I ponder the mist that Coraline encounters outside the Other Mother’s home, which distorts her perception of reality. It transforms her house into “only the idea of a house,” leading her to suspect that the Beldam, who conceived this illusion, is far from a good person.
Am I crafting a world for my children that is sufficient? Will they view me as a good parent when I occasionally ignore them or send them away, even if it feels necessary? As I watch the clock for bedtime or my next moment of respite, I can’t help but wonder how to foster a healthy relationship when the other party is still developing their understanding of the world.
As a child, Coraline is terrifying because it implies that there are dangers that parents may be unable to shield us from. As a parent, the real fear lies in knowing that one day my children will no longer need me. Even amidst the exhaustion and overwhelming challenges, I find myself yearning for the days of their dependency when they sleep soundly, worrying about the day I may no longer be needed. I am caught in a paradox of desiring solitude while simultaneously striving to avoid failing these little beings I brought into this world.
I have no clear answers to this dilemma; perhaps my search for that elusive trick or the perfect advice that ties everything together is futile. Life isn’t a fairy tale; there are no simple solutions. What I do know is that I am not alone in this struggle; many of us are navigating this complex terrain, and the more we discuss it, the better we can support one another.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, the author shares her worries about balancing her own needs with those of her children, drawing parallels to the dynamic in Neil Gaiman’s Coraline. She grapples with feelings of guilt and the fear of becoming an inattentive parent while acknowledging the complexities of motherhood. The article emphasizes the importance of open conversations among parents navigating these challenges.
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My Uneasy Similarities with Coraline’s “Other Mother”, Parenting, Self-Care, Neil Gaiman, Coraline, Motherhood, Balancing Needs, Fairy Tales, Parenting Struggles