A few years back, I embarked on a journey to earn a paralegal degree through online classes at a community college. This endeavor led to many sleepless nights spent poring over Excel spreadsheets and mastering Word formatting after my then-4-year-old daughter had settled into bed. It was every bit as exhausting as it sounds.
During those long hours, I had a constant stream of TV sitcoms and stand-up specials playing in the background on Netflix. I devoured every episode of Roseanne twice and binge-watched all the Louis C.K. specials available. When I needed a dose of comfort, I would curl up with a blanket and re-watch Mermaids.
At that time, parenting was particularly challenging. My daughter had a knack for wandering off, even in our small studio apartment next to a busy freeway. To shower in peace, I had to latch a chain on the door high enough that she couldn’t reach it. Grocery shopping became an adventure of its own, as she’d dash into the floral section, throwing tantrums when I refused to buy her yet another stuffed animal.
Emotionally, I was struggling. I had moved several hours away from her father, a decision he criticized harshly. In his eyes, I was failing and selfish, and I should have focused on getting off government assistance rather than pursuing my degree. Being on food stamps pushed me to strive for perfection; I didn’t want to be associated with the stereotypes often linked to welfare families. Each morning, when my daughter refused to get dressed or leave the house, I felt like I was failing at my most important role: being a parent.
Then one night, I caught Louis C.K. saying, “If you’re with a group of people trying to go somewhere and one person refuses to put on their shoes, that person is a total jerk.” I laughed. The next morning, as my daughter kicked off her shoes and refused to put them on, I didn’t feel like a failure anymore. Instead, I chuckled inside, determined not to react to her drama.
Louis C.K.’s stand-up and his show Louie became my lifeline during those tough years. My daughter’s behavior often seemed to spiral downward before showing any signs of improvement. During moments filled with frustration and the urge to cry, I began to rub my face with my hands, cover my mouth, and whisper to myself that she was being a jerk. It provided me a sense of relief (okay, maybe a bit). It distanced me from her behavior, allowing me to stop questioning her actions and instead recognize that sometimes, kids are just difficult.
Alongside Louis C.K., Roseanne Conner has been one of my role models as a mother. Her mix of humor and relentless work ethic resonated with me, even during my teenage years when I wasn’t keen on doing chores. Years later, as a single mom cleaning toilets, I admired her lack of shame in working hard, regardless of the job.
Roseanne’s ability to connect with her daughters while celebrating their differences struck a chord with me during those late-night study sessions. I recognized my own personality reflected in my daughter’s, much like the dynamic between Darlene and Roseanne. Roseanne’s straightforward manner of addressing Darlene’s struggles, like when Darlene wanted to ditch her sporting gear upon getting her period, taught me valuable lessons in relating to my daughter without emotional fluff. “These are girl things, Darlene, as long as girls continue to use them,” Roseanne wisely pointed out.
Lastly, the film Mermaids inspired me to embrace my uniqueness while allowing my daughters to flourish as individuals. Though I lack Cher’s glamorous style, I strive to walk with confidence, much like her character Rachel Flax. Her calm demeanor was something I envied, especially when faced with challenges. I loved the scene where the three girls danced around the kitchen, reminiscent of the lively dinners in my own home. “Don’t be ridiculous. A real woman is never too old,” Ms. Flax declares, a mantra I carry with me.
Years later, I welcomed a second daughter, seven years after my first. This little one is a whirlwind of determination and joy, presenting a stark contrast to my initial experiences with motherhood. I now view her tantrums over simple frustrations differently, recognizing that they aren’t reflections of my parenting but rather expressions of her personality. It’s not about overcoming every moment; it’s about cherishing the fact that before she could even walk, she was already dancing.
In summary, navigating motherhood has been a journey enriched by the lessons learned from pop culture icons like Louis C.K., Roseanne, and Cher’s character in Mermaids. They taught me that parenting is less about perfection and more about embracing imperfections, humor, and the unique traits of our children.
Keyphrase: Learning Motherhood Through Pop Culture
Tags: home insemination kit, home insemination syringe, self insemination