Tuesday, May 29, 2012

being myself.

Some people have a really hard time opening up and being themselves.

I have the opposite problem.  I have a hard time being anything but myself.

And I always admire people who can keep their opinions to themselves, not fly off the handle in the face of percieved injustice, hold their liqur, the list goes on.
I have run into a lot of mothers in this world who feel the need to put on this mask of perfect harmony, as if their kids are perfect and they love every minute of being a parent, and that's what they show to the whole world.  Well, take it from me: those women are full of shit.

I have a big problem with these women, because being a mother is hard.  They will tell you the same thing; it's the hardest job there is.  But they will say it with a big smile on their faces and add something like but it's the most beautiful thing I could have done with my life!
Well fine.  Fair enough.  It is beautiful when your little baby smiles for the first time, the first time they hug you back, when they're so attached to you that they don't want you to leave their sight.  These are all just afew tiny rewards of being a parent.  And they do make it all worth it.  But why can't we talk about the shitty parts of being a mother?  Why can't we unite in solidarity and just shout it out loud: SOMETIMES I FEEL LIKE STICKING MY HEAD IN THE OVEN!!!

Just sometimes.  I mean, why can't we just admit it?
Why can't we be a little more honest about it?
By pretending that everything is hunky dory all the time, how are mothers who are struggling with parenthood expected to feel?  Like failures, because they are not measuring up to this bullshit, nonexistent standard that they can never hope to reach?  Ew!

I love being a mom.  But I also love being myself.  And here are a few facts about myself:

I am usually the loudest person in the room.
I'm not shy.
Sometimes I say things that are really inappropriate, like jokes about dumpster babies.
I also make a lot of jokes about drnking.
I drink a lot of wine to unwind after a rough stay-at-home mommy kind-of-day.
If I don't like someone, it's obvious and it makes me look like a real asshole.
Sometimes I wish I had more time to do the things that make me feel like myself again.  Things that I never get to do anymore.  Write, paint, listen to Leonard Cohen and highlight my favourite stanzas in poetry anthology books.
Sometimes I feel a teeny bit resentful because I never lived my dreams.

But these things never stop me from going into the boys' rooms when they're sleeping peacefully in the middle of the night and shedding a tear because my heart is just overflowing with pure love for these little guys and the carnal instinct to keep them safe and happy no matter what.

Admitting that motherhood can be a real pain-in-the-ass, thankless job that sometimes downright blows does not make us bad mothers.  If anything, it makes us better.  It allows us to look inside of ourselves and be honest and always strive to wake up and be a little bit better than we were yesterday.  We can support each other. 

If you ever have a rotten day with your kids, you can always talk to me about it.  I won't think you're a monster.  I'll think I found a kindred spirit.  And I need more of those.

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