What You Don’t Want to Hear (And What I’m Ashamed to Admit)

“A mother who is really a mother is never free.” ~Honore de Balzac

Sometimes I really hate my job.  I’m not talking about my “9-5” job that,not only do I get paid for, I also get to leave.  I’m talking about the job I have to do every minute for the rest of my life.  Parenting.

As I pointed out, I’m not proud to admit this fact, nor is it something you you actually want to hear (especially those of you who do not have children).  Parenting is supposed to be this magical thing that you cherish each and every moment.  Chubby cheeked little cherubs love you, marvel after you, and touch your soul in ways that are not even imaginable.  And it is like that…sometimes.  Other times it plain sucks.  Actually, I can go one better, it F****ING SUCKS.

In order to understand this better, I should tell you about my day.  I had a pretty good day at work, headed to the gym and had a moderately good workout.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing and I was excited to go home and spend the rest of the day with all my boys outside playing.  And then I walked in the door.  Immediately, the four year old (M) started screaming at me about how I didn’t bring home a treat in my lunch bag.  When I mentioned going outside, the 2 year old (O) screamed because he didn’t want to wear socks with his shoes.  When they finally made it outside,  O ate something unidentifiable off the ground.  During dinner,  M didn’t want what I made (though it was exactly what he asked for!!!!).  When I got up to clear the dishes,  O projectile vomited everywhere in the dining room.  Once the husband got him upstairs, it was time for M to take his antibiotic…which he hates.  I tried to make it easier, but after taking one sip, he proceeded to projectile vomit all over the dining room as well…after I had just cleaned up the first round.

At that point I lost it.  Like, really lost it.  I broke down.  I cried.  I yelled.  It was not pretty.

M yelled at me that he loved me but I was not doing the right thing.  I yelled back at him that he wasn’t either.

I finally got him upstairs and into the tub and then proceeded to the basement with all the gross clothes and table items.  I managed to get them started in the wash before I completely fell apart.  I just didn’t want to be here anymore.  I didn’t want this job anymore.  It was talking all my strength not to jump in the car and run away, far away. I WANT OUT was all I could think.

And, of course, the icing on the cake of all of this is that my husband remained calm and collected throughout the entire ordeal, even while bathing the two screaming, vomit covered boys.  This made me me feel even crappier about losing it and pretty much made me hate him in that moment.  I sat downstairs for a few minutes, got myself together and then went back upstairs, ready to bake the cupcakes I promised for snack at M’s school tomorrow.

This whole ordeal, from the minute I walked in the door to the minute I walked upstairs to begin baking, lasted literally 45 minutes.

I realize that these are not typical days for us.  Usually, things are pretty calm or, at the very  least, a controlled chaos.  And for the most part I love being a mom.  I love my kiddos more than life itself.  When I think about them not being around I get panicky and know my life wouldn’t not be as complete as it is now without them in it.

But still, sometimes I get so jealous of my friends that seem so free.  I gaze at them wistfully when they don’t have kids to feed or husbands to get home to. And it’s not like I want to leave them (I know I would miss them in the first second out the door).  It’s just that I want them all to not exist in the first place.  Just for a day, or even an hour.

Sometimes being a mom (and a wife) sucks and it’s OK to think that way.

And while I know it’s not something others want to admit in the open, I know I’m not alone.


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