Main Character Mommy

It's me, hi. I'm the problem, it's me.

Hey, guys. I am preparing this post late at night on Sunday after my formerly beloved and now very much for sale to the highest bidder rescue dog Tigger brought a DEAD RAT into my home from the backyard. He carried it inside his mouth, and I thought I saw a tail sticking out and proceeded to scream at him with the gutteral ululations of Reagan possessed by a demon in The Exorcist. Nevertheless, he persisted in carrying that carcass INTO MY BED (don’t worry; I’ve since set it on fire, along with myself, Tigger, and the entire house) while the girls and I screamed with hysterics not seen since Clark’s dad hollered “SQUIRRRRRELLLLLL!” in Christmas Vacation.

It’s fine, though. We’re fine. We’ll never sleep again but we’re definitely not triggered because a rat family caused a flood in our home just months ago in March. It’s cool. We aren’t overreacting.

On the plus side, now that I’m planning to never sleep and maybe take eight showers to cleanse myself because yes, I grabbed that dead fucker in a beach towel and hurled him into the front lawn with Olympian grace and determination while my shoeless children screamed in the street, knocking on our neighbors’ door as though they might save us from this deceased disease-ridden nightmare. (He did, actually. 14-year-old boys can be heroic.) There was so much swearing, you guys. My throat is raw from primal screams; childbirth had nothing on the noises that erupted from me this evening.

But oh, right, the plus. Since I’m clearly never sleeping, I can prepare my Substack in a timely fashion so it’s ready for its usual Monday morning publication! What a win! Thanks, Templeton, you wily bastard, and may you rest in peace. In my trash can.

Fortunately, I don’t actually have to prepare any new content, but rather, I am honored and humbled and delighted and moderately terrified to share a link to a piece that was published in Motherwell Magazine last week. Motherwell is hands-down my favorite publication for personal essays about motherhood, and I was thrilled to have this piece accepted. I’ve always been self-conscious about my motherhood persona as being a little “too much,” too big, too loud, too something.

At our Mother Plus mini retreat on Saturday, one of our attendees said it always made her cringe when people used the phrase “settle down and have kids.” She resented the implication that settling down was a prerequisite. That resonated with me.

Here are a few excerpts, and then you can head over to read the full essay.

Mommy, you have main character energy,” my fifteen-year-old told me. It wasn’t a compliment. 

“What does that mean?” I asked her. She clarified with, “It means you’re a total main character. I mean, even your Myers Briggs says so. ENFJ is the protagonist.” She threw her hands up, emphasizing my status as a cosmic lost cause, me and my main character energy. 

I mean, let’s be honest. Mothers are not supposed to be main characters. We were built for a supporting role. Mom is not the lead actress; if she’s lucky she’ll get recognized for her role supporting the main characters, but most of the time, those people hand her actual trash. 

I didn’t really need an explanation of what being a “main character” meant; I’ve always been self-conscious about my maternal personality. Namely, I refused to abandon my identity, even if it was embarrassing or uncouth. I refused to shrink. I was loud. I laughed and danced in the kitchen and I did not contort myself into a cookie-platter-holding, full-time support staff waiting in the background to appear when summoned. I was the “fun mom,” a role that had occasionally stung me. 

I knew all too well what novels and movies and gorgeously crafted New York Times essays had to say about moms with main character energy. Why was it, exactly, that quirky, effervescent mothers always had either drug addictions or personality disorders? Where was the middle ground? It seemed there was no script calling for the leading role of a free, fun, joyful mother who wasn’t also a toxic anchor to her hapless offspring. Huh. Puzzling. 

Read: How To Embrace Life as a Main Character Mommy (Without the Guilt) on Motherwell here.

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Do you have main character energy, too? Do you apologize for it, or embrace it?

Thanks, as always, for reading! Your subscriptions always make my day, whether free or paid, so please stick around with me, and let me know what content you’d like to see more of! Have a great week, friends and readers! And watch out for rodents.

XOXO,
Steph