Tonight I went to yet another open house. Yay me. I love seeing my child’s progress, and the way they light up with pride as they show me around is really the only reason I go, but isn’t that what book bags are for? Send all that ish home. They can tell me all about it and then I can go ninja, and discard it while they sleep. Yes, I recycle about 90% of what my kids bring home, yes I do. I get that we are a social species. I guess I should enjoy the comradery, and the ice cream, and the beauty of a hundred people navigating narrow hallways, talking all at once. I’m an introvert, though, and I don’t. Unless my kid is performing, and I’m in the audience being entertained, I really don’t want to go to a single school event. Flog me now PTA, before I continue on, because there’s actually a lot more mamahood truths I’m not afraid to let loose. Most moms, including my former self, are so afraid to admit it, but I’m gonna be brave and pull back the curtain.
Here are the 7 Things moms are afraid to admit; let alone say out loud
I Don’t Love Every Moment Of Being A Mom
OMSheeesh, did I just say that? It’s like the “I never masturbate” of parenting. Why is that so taboo? You can absolutely love just about anything and not love every aspect of it at the same time. I love playing softball. I hate sliding into home. I hurt myself just about every time. I love my kids. I hate putting them to bed. I hurt myself just about every time. Sometimes I look at my kids and think, “When the hell is your mother coming back to get you?!” Then I realize their mother is Me, and I go straight for my chocolate stash. Other times I scoop them up on my lap and spend the next 5 minutes smelling their hair. Nothing is absolute. Not even motherhood; Especially not motherhood. I don’t know of anything in the world that’s more multi-faceted than being a mom. It’s a roller coaster of ups and downs and it’s okay if you’re not excited about the drops. When one of my kids is having a meltdown, my stomach flips and I feel like throwing up. I am not going to Pretend I enjoy it. It doesn’t mean I want to give up momming. It means meltdowns suck, and being a mom isn’t my favorite thing when I’m in the middle of dealing with one. If you find yourself having a, “I hate this” moment, just know it doesn’t represent or define you as a mom. Also know that Every single other mama has felt the same way at some point.
I Don’t Know What The Hell I’m Doing
Even the expertitious of experts is Winging it from time to time. I have learned a lot, and gotten much better at momming over the last 15 years, but at least 60% of the time, I’m just out there Making shit up! I can give you advice if you’d like. I’ve been there, seen a few things, but motherhood throws me for new loops daily. I’ll share upon request, but I am not going to sit up on my speckled white horse, pretending that my kids never get more than 30 minutes of screen time. I know I’m a good mom. I work my ass off for those little buggers, but I don’t need to prove that to anyone. I definitely don’t need to hear about how I’m doing it wrong in the eyes of someone who either, doesn’t have kids, doesn’t have but one, or is just straight up lying because None of us are perfect; no matter how fresh from the salon, my van is always clean, we only eat organic a mama may appear to be. Show me a perfect mom and I’ll show you a mom who doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing either, it’s just really important to her that people Think she does. I could also show you a mama with a nanny, a cook and a maid. Perfection gets considerably closer a possibility with extra hands on deck. No matter how many schedules you keep, meals you plan, and moments of life you try to organize, all of that goes to shit when you get a call that your kids is in the ER, or the baby poops up his back while you’re headed out the door for school runs. Every. Single. Mom has these moments. I don’t say it to knock organization. Planning and preparation make regular days run much smoother. I say it so you know you are Not alone. None of us are.
I Fantasize About My Pre-Mom Days
I don’t resent my kids in the slightest, nor do I regret having them. What I do do, is enjoy the quiet of the night, eating my fair trade chocolate, watching re-runs of Sex in the City, Reminiscing of the days when I could go to bed at 3am, wake up at 2pm, spend a whole Saturday hanging with my girls, not cook a thing, grab a sub when I felt hungry and maybe even do a little recreational, “whatever the hell I feel like”, because I didn’t have to Take care of anyone. I didn’t need to worry about run on sentences back then either. I didn’t need a mommy blog as an outlet, so grammar wasn’t particularly important. I used to be “X”, “Xavia”, “Zay”. Now I’m “Mom, mom, Moomm?!”. I hear my name, maybe once a week, and that’s just when a telemarketer is trying to pronounce it but ends up adding about 5 syllables that aren’t there. No one talks about the Identity crisis that comes along with being a mom. You’re “You”, but at the same time you’re not. Being a mom comes with so many sacrifices and things you would never do if you didn’t have kids that sometimes you don’t really recognize yourself and you long for the days of old.
I Get Tired Of Adulting
That’s probably why I fantasize about my pre-mom days. When I was little I thought when you became an adult, you became a Completely different person. You shed your snake-like child skin and transformed into a mature, enlightened version of yourself. I thought my ability to adult would just fall into place, but I don’t feel any like what I used to imagine my mom felt like when I was little. Maybe I don’t speak for everyone on this one, but I still feel like a kid every single day. I know I’m not, the moment I have a conversation with someone in their young twenties. I know I’m not with every bill I pay and salad I order In place of fries. I know I’m not when I’m helping my kids with common core homework I don’t understand, because as a child I learned in a way that Made sense. I know I’m not a kid, but that’s more because of my responsibilities than anything else. Maybe it’s because I had my first child very young, or maybe it’s because we all grow into new roles, but we Never really grow up.
I Want To Throw In The Towel All The Time
Having a teenager along with my littles is reassuring, because I know this part gets better, but at least twice a day I want to Give up. One of my daughters experiences the sensory world with a Very high level of sensitivity. Over-stimulation is common, and she loses it; A lot! Every time she goes from zero to sixty real quick I think, “I’m not qualified for this shit! I didn’t go to school for any of this. I never took any tests. Why did anyone let me have kids when I don’t know what to do with them half the time. You need a license to apply make-up, but this, this they let you do with zero experience or training?” At that point I want to lay face down on the floor and Tap out. I pull myself together, though, and move on to round 437. They knock me down just about everyday, but I get up and jump back in the ring, a glutton for more. Maybe you don’t have children that bicker around the clock so you can’t relate to this one, but if you can Don’t feel guilty. If you do feel guilty that means you haven’t Actually given up, and if you have littles at home, especially if you have more than one, that makes you a Superhero.
I Don’t Always Like My Kids
I remember a post a while back halfheartedly asking, “If you were your child’s age right now, would you be friends with them?” I got a whole lot of, “Yes, my kid is amazing” and I laughed. Everyone may not be as sarcastic as me or share my sense of humor, but I’m not even being funny when I say I’d probably only hang out with one of mine. I’d say two, but I wouldn’t want to be friends with the baby until he works on his people skills. I have personality clashes with my kids all the time, and sometimes I don’t like them. I love them unconditionally, but when my one daughter is being nasty, intentionally telling her sister that the snowman she drew looks more like a rotted carrot, I don’t like her; not one bit. If you never like your kid, don’t worry either, that’s just puberty. It’ll pass. Hopefully. I have four, so odds were pretty good that at least one of them would have an easy, pleasant personality, Just like me ;-), but there’s no app for that. Some of our kids are not the one Match.com would have paired us with, and the journey of getting along is rough. It happens.
Stay Homes and Workers Bees Both Want To Be Each Other
I’m convinced that the war between moms was created by a man. Had to be, right? As women, we are so much more evolved than that. Lets’s get one thing straight. All moms are working moms, period! The grass is no greener on any side, and one is no loftier or more noble than the other. The juggle struggle is real for the Working Mom. She may have the freedom to leave the house everyday, kid-free. She may have regular conversations with persons over the age of 4, but she still has to manage all things mom. She just has to do it in the in-between hours of an outside of the home job. SAHMs aren’t always living the life either. Half the time, they’re loosing their minds. They may not have the deadlines and stress that come along with work. They may have the freedom to get errands done during the day, but whatever she does, she does it with babies and toddlers hanging all over her. If you’ve never stayed home all day. Day after day with little ones, but you know a mama who has. When you say her name, Put some Respek on it! Seriously. The patience it takes, that’s the stuff of saints. There are no words for Work From Home Moms, other than they’re Amazing beasts of awesomeness. I consider myself a Work From Home Mom in training cuz I still can’t juggle one without dropping the other. I aspire to one day, join their ranks, cuz they are pretty bad ass. I’ve spent time on all 3 sides and they’re all tough. They’re all exhausting, and they’re all good moms. Let’s drop the judgies, and call a truce, because there really aren’t any sides. We’re all in the middle of a messiful circle, working everyday to make sure our kids are safe, fed, and loved.
Motherhood is Real. It’s Raw. It’s a Mess, and it’s okay to say so out loud. I think we’d relieve some of the pressure we put on ourselves if we owned all angles, not just the one that makes us look flawless.