There is an aspect to this motherhood thing that few people are willing to talk about. Sure, if I say it outloud many of you will probably nod your head in the solitude of your own home and agree. Some of you may even shout out an “Amen sistah!” And yet, a few out there may look at their computer in total confusion. (Those of you who do that, you may just want to go read a warm fuzzy parenting story. This isn’t for you.)
Some days, I just don’t like the job. I look around and wonder what the hell I was thinking when I thought that being a mom would be the greatest and easiest job in the world. For the most part, it is the greatest job in the world. (We won’t even go into how naive I was to think any part of it would be easy. That is just sad!) But there are days this job just sucks.
There. I said it.
I have been in that place the last few days. For example, this morning, when I heard Little Diva waking up and calling for me, well, let’s just say I didn’t get a warm fuzzy feeling. In fact, I wanted to smash the monitor and go back to sleep.
Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t the children that I am disenchanted with right now. It is the job. The work. The nonstop being on duty. The neverending demands on my time, my energy, my funds and my sanity, not to mention my sleep. (We’ll get to that one.) By the time the day is nearing an end and it is time to put the kids to bed for the night, there is very little desire for one on one time. The only person I want to be alone with after 16 hours on the job is myself. I am ashamed to admit it, but I have even yelled in the general direction of their bedrooms (more than once) that they “better not get up unless there is blood, vomit or fire“.
But, the catch is, you can’t just look at these little people and say, “Nope. I am not on duty right now. My shift ended 15 minutes ago. You’re on your own, bud. If you don’t like it, call the union.” (Sure, the occassional, “Go ask your Dad” will escape my mouth, but that usually ends up with him asking me whatever it was that they were going to ask me in the first place.)
Some days, I just don’t want to play Barbies.
Some days I don’t want to put together the same puzzle 75 times.
Some days I don’t want to help do the homework that I already had to do 20+ years ago.
I don’t think it is fun to change a dirty diaper.
I don’t find my zen in washing load after load of stinky boy-clothes.
I really could care less who Yugi is and why he is so Oh!
And since I am being so honest, I really don’t get that excited about someone using the potty. I have been doing it for years and the excitement of it has pretty much worn off.
So, let’s talk sleep. At least, I will try to talk about it. I vaguely remember how wonderful it was to sleep. We’re talking about sleeping when you are tired. Sleeping all night long without anyone waking you up. Because trust me, when one of these little people wakes you up in the middle of the night, it is never for an enjoyable reason. I have yet to be awakened to hear, “Mom! Mom! We won the lottery!” or “Mom! Mom! You’re going to be late for your all expenses paid, all- nclusive, trip to the spa…alone.” No. It is usually “Mom! I threw up.” Or “Mom! I had a bad dream and need you to get up right this minute Be sure to wake up fully so that you can take me to my room where I will immediately fall asleep. You, however, have adrenaline rushing through your system and will be wide awake for at least an hour.” (Okay, so maybe those exact words were not used. But they were implied!)
The point? I am sure there was a point here somewhere. (Yeah, yeah, besides that somedays I just don’t like my job.) I guess part of the point is that it really is okay to admit that.
It is okay to admit that.
Why can’t we talk about it? Does it make us bad moms? No. Does it mean we love our children any less because we really want to sleep and be alone every now and then? Not at all. Does it mean we won’t win “Mom of the Year”? Well, it probably does mean that, but so what? Do you really want it if it means you have to be fake about who you are and what you feel? I don’t.
So, listen up, sisters. It is okay to not like this job everyday. It is okay to get frustrated and cry about it. It is okay to look at another Mom and say, “This sure can suck and the pay leaves a lot to be desired.”
It is not okay to keep it all inside if you feel this.
Trust me, I stake everything I have on this one fact: You are not alone in thinking this way every now and then. I know that at least one other mom out there related to this. If one did and admits it, more did. That’s all I’m saying.
Tomorrow, I hope to say, Hey, this is the greatest and easiest job ever. (Okay, I at least want to not say, “This sucks. When do I get off duty?”)
Based on past experiences, I will. I hope you do, too.
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