Once upon a time, I used to really love being a mom. Maybe it was just a season, but it was a season that lasted a very long time and so it was easy to convince myself that I was a natural at this whole mothering thing and I was going to spend the rest of my life loving every minute of it. I was wrong. Maybe it is just that I am outnumbered these days. Maybe it is that Rory's disabilities mean that I have been living in a constant state of infant limbo for two and a half years now with no real end in sight and it is exhausting. Maybe it is because my kids break out in fights like little Tasmanian devils every 23 seconds. Maybe it is because Liam now speaks exclusively in sass. Maybe it is that I am reduced to tears at least once daily when I step on a Lego or slip on a puddle left by a child that I probably at some point asked to clean up whatever it was that I stepped on. Maybe it is because I am reminded frequently by the people I am dedicating my life force to helping guide into adulthood that I cannot do anything right, I ruin their lives, and I am also fat. Maybe it is because, between homeschooling and therapy appointments and the boy's insatiable appetites and their ability to destroy an entire room in absolutely no time at all, that I feel more like a case manager than a mother. Maybe it is because I am existing on a diet of half-eaten leftover sandwiches and coffee so I am nutritionally depleted and just don't have the energy to love anything anymore. It may be any one of those things. It is probably all of those things. But whatever the reason, the truth is that if motherhood was on the Konmari chopping block these days, you would probably find it at the curb because when I really examine it....there is just none of that illusive spark. I can hear you now, friends. Self-care, Michelle! Self-care! You cannot take care of others when you don't take care of yourself. Go out and have a cup of coffee! Just find five minutes! Yoga! Running! Read a book! Take a hot bath! It's adorable really...but it is also very much like giving a dying man in a desert an ice cube. He is probably going to take it, but it isn't going to do much good. What I need is a stay-at-home mom sabbatical, but I am fairly certain those aren't a thing. I love my kids. Oh, I love my kids, so much it physically hurts sometimes. And even in the midst of all the mess, I can find the magic in these boys of mine. But I am not loving motherhood. There are moments that I love, days even...but, as a whole....nope. It is probably just a season but it is lasting a long time and so it is easy to convince myself that I am just terrible at this whole mothering thing and I am going to spend the rest of my life hating every minute of it.
There is no moral of this story. There is no pretty bow to wrap it up with. I am a good mother. I know that I am a good mother because I work very hard at it every single day...but I am not a very happy mother right now. I suppose I just wanted to put it out there. Maybe someone somewhere will read it and they will not feel so alone or they will not feel like there is something wrong with them or that, at least if there is something wrong with them, there is one other person on the planet just as screwed up as they are. If you are a mother hating motherhood, I just want to say this: nobody loves any job all the time. Yes, mothering is a relationship, but mothering is also a job. Especially when your children are young and especially when your children have special needs, but not only then. It is a physically demanding, emotionally depleting job with long hours, demanding clientele, and crappy pay- and, just like any job, it totally sucks sometimes and you would rather be doing pretty much anything else. Mothering is hard work. I hesitate to even say that because I feel like it is a pretty well-established truth at this point in time and we can no longer pretend we are #sobrave for admitting it. Parenting is no walk in the park. We know this but we do it anyway. Because we feel biologically compelled. Because family is the cornerstone of civilized society. Because we smelled a newborns head and that shit is basically crack. So, we do it... and we keep doing it, but it is not easy and it is not always fun and we don't always love it. That's normal. You are normal. I am normal. You do not have to love it all the time to be good at it. Fictional Mom in my Head That is Nodding Along While Reading This and Not Totally Judging Me, let me just give you some hope: eventually, the spark will come back around. It always, always does. And probably in a moment when you least expect it; probably while you are rocking a feverish kid to sleep at three o'clock in the morning, or when you are stuck in the mob at Chuck E. Cheese and you realize your children are comparatively angels, or when you finally get to spend some actual time away from them and you miss them so much you think you are going to die and all you want to do is smell their sweaty heads. In the meantime, just hang tight. That is what I am doing. I am going to hang tight. I am going to keep being a good mother. I am going to keep loving my kids with every fiber of my being. I might also take that hot bath. It's worth a shot, right? One day, I will love this again. One day, I will look back and forget I ever didn't.
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WHO AM I?
I am Michelle: a wannabe hippie in love with a bonafide geek. We also spawned. I spend my days with our four wild, beautiful boy children and I overshare about our life online because I am a Millennial and that is what we do.
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