Motherhood is one of those jobs you can never envision until you are in it. It is wonderful beyond all expectations, and it is simultaneously more exhausting than you could have imagined. In this blog, I try to record our memories, and for the most part, it is not hard to talk about all of the joy that comes with parenting. However, sometimes I think it’s important to mention the tougher side of mommying so that all of us remember that we’re not alone.
First of all, in mommyhood, days are packed, and yet you actually feel like you accomplish very little. You wake up to crying, wash the same dishes repeatedly, create meals that end up in equal parts nourishing your little ones, providing ample opportunities for sweeping the floor, and allowing enough diaper changes that you should be called the Diaper Genie or bumGenius. You pick up the same toys dozens of times (a day) or spend three times as long encouraging your children to pick up the same toys (and that’s when they’re actually motivated to help.) You reinforce the same rules, manners, and expectations for behavior. Yet sometimes you wonder if you are that tree in the forest that no one has heard. You follow a schedule that revolves around eating, sleeping, and playing, but none of it relates to your own needs for eating, sleeping, or playing. Routine is so important to kids, and you spend much of your day trying to work around this routine, but sometimes the mundane causes you to forget the meaningful. Sure, you are working really hard, accomplishing so much. The tough part is, you might not know exactly what that is for another twenty years.
Trips to stores are adventures at best, calamities at worst. With one kid in the top of the cart and another in the basket, you cover your child(ren) in items and end up discovering squished strawberries, dented boxes, and chewed labels…all before you’ve even paid. You hope that your child(ren) will not draw the eyes of strangers for any other reason than to say they are cute. You do not want to be “that family,” the one who elicits stares of pity or judgment as your one-year-old screams or your three-year-old sobs. You enter stores with a plan, a snack, a list, a stack of coupons, and a dream that this will be a better trip than the last one. Sometimes you are pleasantly surprised, and sometimes you do the walk of shame out to your car. All of the time, you feel like you’ve climbed a mountain with the effort of simply buying items for your family while taking care of its smallest members.
As a mom, you have some lonely days where your most coherent conversation involves answering the same question (or babble) repeatedly. Strangely, though, you’re never alone. You go to the bathroom with company and someone whose sole goal it is to unroll the toilet paper roll. You get dressed amidst questions, opinions, suggestions, and small people trying on your undergarments. You try to sweep with four extra hands on the broom and four little feet walking through your pile of crumbs (or maybe that’s just at our house.) I liken it to life in a big city. You are surrounded at all times, but sometimes you feel so very alone. On the other hand, as much as you absolutely adore your children, you would give just about anything except for an hour of sleep or their health or safety just to be alone for ten minutes…for a shower, a phone conversation with a friend that is actually uninterrupted, a quick nap that will restore your energy and help you play puzzles or pat-a-cake or pretend for another afternoon. The fact is, I love my children so much, and as long as some days are, this is going too fast for me to wish for too much time away from them. Still, there are definitely days when I could use a breather, not so much to be away from them, but just to remember who I am when nobody is looking. To do this job well means to be held accountable at all times, and that’s a tough task for anyone.
All is not lost, though. Amidst the packed days and languishing “to do” lists are the moments and the magic that make this job incredible. When I get “nothing” done, I try to remember that this job will have its rewards for generations to come. When I have a challenging outing, I work to realize that my children sometimes need to cry because they don’t have three decades of practice in expressing their feelings verbally. When I feel like I haven’t had enough adult interaction, I give thanks that my kids want to talk to me, to be around me, to learn from everything I say and do. I sigh both because I am tired (what mom isn’t?) and I am content (what could be better than watching lives mold and unfold?) Though I have hours in this job that are lonely, I would choose this job, choose my children, choose this chance to never be alone. Motherhood is not easy, but it is so incredibly worth it. I thank God for my children and the chance to be this exhausted, overwhelmed, understimulated, and underpaid. For in this job, I am also energized, overcome with joy, inspired, and compensated beyond my wildest dreams.
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