Sometimes, I Hate Being a Mom

When I was pregnant with the twins, I frequented a mom forum. I was scared. I didn't know what to expect and I didn't know any other reasonable people in my generation to talk to about what I was going through. I felt like I belonged. These people didn't even judge me for being 19 or unmarried. It felt like a miracle. I trusted these women.

After I had the twins, I continued to mingle in those forums. circumstances forced me to move to a rural town in Kansas to live with my mom and I was bored and lonely. I still didn't have mommy friends. I didn't really have friends at all because I could hardly leave the house. I trusted these women.

Then, one day, I wanted to complain. I don't remember what my gripe was about, specifically. Since I had two, infant, premature, colicky daughters I had to share a room with and I was single, broke, and living in rural Kansas, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks.

The responses I got just made things worse. People I had been talking to and asking for advice for a year or more were arguing with me and each other. A few were defending my right, as a mom, to complain. Several were chastising me for ever speaking out against the joys of motherhood because there are women out there who would give anything just to be able to have a baby and it's not fair of me to complain since I'm so lucky.

It's like saying there are people out there who are jobless and would love to be able to work, so I shouldn't ever complain about the harsh and demanding realities of my minimum wage, no benefits, hyper-demanding work at the funeral home (yes, I used to work at one of those) because I'm so lucky to even have a job. Okay. Yes, I was lucky to have a job. I could have been jobless instead. But if I don't point out the flaws in my job, I feel like I'm leading others to believe that there's nothing wrong with it and it's a sparkly fairy tale. That's not right. I mean, I stepped into it with no information. I don't want that for others. Besides, if I don't complain, it might never improve because no one will know that I'm dissatisfied.

Sometimes I hate being a mom because:

• It ruined my body
• it routinely destroys my internal peace
• it complicates my career path
• it puts a lot of stress on my family and my marriage
• it means I have to own a much bigger (read: more expensive) house
• it means I can't justify living in the city
• it changes the places I can go out to eat
• it means I have to own a huge (gas greedy) car
• it keeps me up at night
• it makes me judge myself harshly... all... the... time
• it makes me question myself constantly
• it complicates my budget
• it's suddenly much more cost effective to drive for two days than to fly anywhere
• I never have time to study
• I barely even do my makeup anymore

No one of these things seems like much of a problem. Combined, though, they start to hurt. The hardest part is that I am now constantly at war with myself. I can't manage to pursue my dreams and provide theirs. I never feel like I'm doing enough, and no matter how much I do... they don't understand the significance and don't act like they appreciate many of the things I do. So, I'm keeping myself up at night thinking about how to be a better mom and produce better adults from these children I have created... and they are totally unaware and seem to not even care.

And that's all okay. It's okay for them to behave that way. They don't understand. But it's also okay to feel this way, as a parent. Those of us who do (and I'd venture to guess that all of us feel this way sometimes, even if we put forth an image that looks like a Betty Crocker advertisement), shouldn't have to suffer in silence. That's just perpetuating the problem. No one will throw you a life vest if they don't know you're sinking, and if you've just had to fight off the Kracken while struggling to keep it from pulling you under, I expect you to warn anyone who will listen not to swim in the same waters unless they're feeling exceptionally brave. 

I just took my kids to a member's-only pre-grand-reopening event at the Children's Museum of Denver. They made all these amazing renovations. We had a completely fantastic time. I got Cub up from nap today and he asked me about lightning. I told him about static electricity... but he's convinced that thunder is the sound of Power Rangers kicking the lightning so it will go away. I love them and they make me smile and laugh and feel validated in my constant struggles... but they also make me scream into my pillow and self-loath and cry sometimes. This is being a mother.