Motherhood: The New Type 2 Fun

By Kendall Verge

To be honest, I was pretty on the fence about becoming a mom.
Like, okay, people have been making this work for millions of years (and giving it 10/10 reviews), but I also loved my life as it was. I could’ve been fine either way.

I do think when you meet the right partner, it shifts things. My boyfriend before my husband came along couldn’t be trusted to take care of a dish towel, let alone a human. And then I met a guy who literally teared up whenever he saw a baby. I could practically hear his biological clock ticking.

Fast forward: it’s COVID. We’re all at home with nothing to do except bake sourdough and procreate. So we did.

Grieving the Life You Haven’t Lived Yet

I spent my pregnancy doing what most gals do: eating a lot of chocolate, sampling every NA beverage on the market, and weeping through Eat, Pray, Love. Not because it’s that sad, but because I was convinced my life as I knew it was over. Like, wait, am I never going to travel the world, gain 20 pounds eating pasta in Italy, and take a Brazilian lover like Julia Roberts?

I was already mourning the loss of a life I didn’t even have, just the idea that I could have it. I was worried that a baby would come along and suck the adventure out of my life.

The Reality Check

Then came the reality check. A tough labor. A diagnosis I didn’t understand at the time (pelvic organ prolapse… had to Google it, cried for days). A few weeks later, a major job shift that forced me into starting my own business three months postpartum.

And then the spiral. I didn’t fully realize how deep I was in postpartum anxiety and depression until about a year in. I got help. I went to therapy. We’re good now.

Then baby #2 came along three years later, and with it, prenatal depression (also, I didn’t know that was a thing). Another round of, oh cool, my life is about to be completely upended again.

The Comparison Trap

But here’s where I’m finally getting to my point.

As time passes, I’ve found myself not immune to the scroll. The “look how seamlessly motherhood fits into my adventurous life” content. And I love what The Mothership Collective is doing. It’s powerful and inspiring to see what’s possible. Women bringing their kids along, doing big, beautiful, adventurous things.

But for me? I’ll just say it out loud. It’s not always just as fun. And I think that’s okay.

Maybe It’s a Martini Era

What happened to the version of 1950s motherhood where moms got together over a cigarette and a martini and let the kids run wild in the backyard? Because honestly… that’s more my speed.

Not just because I love spending time with my friends (I do), but because I actually think there’s something really valuable in it, for our kids and for us. Independence. Space. The understanding that they are not, in fact, the center of the universe.

I guess what I’m saying is: find your own path as a mother and lean into it, because comparison is the thief of joy.

Still Me

I love my kids. And I’m getting better at doing things that bring us together and making memories as a family, like taking them to Mexico this past fall (no one got sick. No one drowned. It’s fine, I’m fine). But I never want my entire identity to be “mom.” It’s not how I see myself.

I’m still a biker, a snowboarder, a friend, a partner, a spicy margarita connoisseur, a good-time enthusiast. Like the rest of us, I’m literally just a girl figuring things out for the first time.

And I do know in my soul that when I take that time away to reconnect with myself, my friends, or my husband, I come back as a much better mom. I’m more patient. More present. Less overstimulated.

It enables my kids to see, as Glennon Doyle puts it in Untamed, me bring my whole self to the table. “My children do not need a mother who is a martyr. They need a mother who is a model. They need a mother who shows them how to be fully alive.”

Type 2 Fun

And still, I find myself caught in the middle of it.

I love being inspired by what’s out there. The rad moms showing us what is possible. You can take your family on a snowmobile adventure to a yurt. And yes, it’s awesome. Is it also really f*cking hard? Yes.

So for me, it’s about finding the balance. Accepting that parenting might be my version of type 2 fun… while still making space for type 1 fun that’s just mine.

Keep going. You’ve got this.