|(The button code on Kim's blog is broken, and I'm too blog-dumb to figure out how to fix it. Instead, here's the link. Sorry, Kim!)|
The good stuff about parenting doesn't make up for all the crap stuff.
I got thinking about this last weekend at a friend's baby shower. As people (or perhaps just my friends) are wont to do at showers, we started talking about all things pregnancy and birthing related. We covered everything from babies who gestate in mom's ribs to the wonderfulness that is the hospital's mesh panties to engorged boobs, and everything in between. It totally freaked out the single ladies, which always gives me a chuckle.
But that's not the point of my rambling.
The point is, toward the end of the shower, after telling the mom-to-be and the mom-of-five-weeks all of these horror stories, someone made the comment that there are so many awesome things about being a parent that it makes up for all the awful stuff. I was standing facing New Mom and Soon Mom, with my back to most of the rest of the group, and, almost involuntarily, my head started shaking, and I muttered, "No it doesn't." Someone else chimed in to agree with the rainbows and puppies sentiments. I looked both New and Soon Mom in the eye and said, "I don't know what these people are smoking, but I need to get some." I didn't mean to try to scare or disturb these new moms, but I can't keep those feelings to myself.
The sad truth is, I don't love - or like - being a mom. I suppose that's more of a confession than what I wrote up top.
To me, parenthood is one gigantic string of no sleep, wiping asses, feeding children who have no interest in eating what I'm feeding them, disciplining, redirecting, wrangling, yelling and crying (from them and me), and hemorrhaging money. Sure, there are moments that are fun, moments that are cute and endearing, but that accounts for approximately 0.5% of the time I spend with my kids.
Motherhood is, still and probably always, an obligation that I'm doing my best at because I always do my best once I'm stuck doing something. That's how I made it through law school in (just barely not) the top 25% of my class. I hated law school with a passion, but once I was in, I wasn't going to fail. That's just not my personality. I'll be as kick-ass a mom as I can be, but I don't (won't) enjoy it. My kids beat me and beat me and beat me with the stick, but let me get a little nibble of carrot when I really need it to keep me from walking out.**
My kids are great kids. They're cute, they're polite, they do some damn funny stuff every once in a while, they give me hugs and kisses and "I wuuv yoo, Mommy"s. But that doesn't make me like the day-to-day any more.
* I should note that I'm writing this during the "evil" half of the month, so it should probably be taken with a grain of salt. But just a little one because I would still write most of this even if I did it one the "good" half of the month.
** If you comment on this post, and your comment contains the phrase "it gets better," I cannot be held responsible for my actions.