I’m going to be honest: motherhood, sometimes, really really *ucks.
No before you say ‘this is why I don’t have kids’ or ‘you asked for it’ or ‘you are blessed, because some can’t have what you do’ – I know, but everyone gets to vent sometimes.
Children were part of my master plan when I was young. I had it mapped out. I was going to meet ‘him’ in college, then marriage, then kids. Employment was ancillary but expected. Well my master plan didn’t go the way it was written. I went to college, went to work, went to law school and went back to work. Then ‘him’ and the little blessings came later in life. I am an old mother (no really ‘advanced maternal age’ is a real medical condition).
But regardless of your age, no books, or blogs, or tv prepares you for the shear overwhelming sensation.
No one tells you when the baby is crying what it means. “Oh, you’ll learn” is what I was told. WHAT F*** GOOD does this do me when he’s screaming at 3 am?!
No one tells you that when he crawls into bed with you at 1 am and proceeds to hurl on your pillow what to do. No one tells you that when she is so congested that she will cough herself sick too it’ll be when you’re cleaning up after the other one.
They tell you to have a routine – it’s best for the kids. But no one tells you that when the routine is messed up because of mothers or mothers-in-law or vacation or a holiday or mommy trying to go out for an adult conversation that YOU will be responsible for resetting that routine and the tantrums that follow.
No one hits home on how much you will be judged for staying home, for going back to work, for not wearing shoes, for wearing them too soon, for eating GD goldfish, for not wearing bows, for wearing them.
No one tells you that everyone will ask you what to do and you won’t have a clue.
I don’t believe it’s post-partum depression, but who knows. I don’t believe it’s getting used to your new normal, but who knows.
I saw a meme that said something like “Every mother knows why Momma Bear’s porridge was cold”. Well mother *, it was cold because baby bear and his little sister are eating, are playing, are thriving, are sleeping, are growing up well. It’s cold and it *ucks.
I cannot wait to look back on these days with nostalgia. I cannot wait to forget the smell that has permeated my house. I cannot wait to have warm porridge – and I don’t even like porridge.