I want to write to you about the joys of motherhood. But I can’t. Last night I spent three hours
bitching to my best friends about how fucking HARD it is. My best friends that I’ve known since I was 19 (wow) and who look at me with compassion and shake their heads knowing they don’t have to go home to these… kids.
Yesterday I wanted to call Michelle, Laura and Shea because they get it on a very deep and personal level having watched my children, almost daily, lose their shit and laugh with me because it really is funny, at least on some level.*
Yesterday I almost called Elaine because I know we both have “tactile” children and we both try so hard to be positive right before breaking down in to a huge pile of depressed, pissed off goo.
I wanted to call my bestest co-worker but those damn Canadian rates almost kill us. I know she gets it. Her kids are just older enough that she can tell me it gets better. It gets better. It gets better.
I wanted to call Anne because she is snarky and composed and helpful and funny when I can’t be.
I wanted to call Syd because we relate to each other like we’ve been best friends for years even if I only met her months ago. The same jobs, the same kids, the same college and favorite city. She is so positive, even during the crap times, that she’s a light when I don’t feel light at all.
I wanted to talk to Jamie because she has dramatic kids like LB and still finds life humorous and takes time to balance herself.
I almost called Laura because we’ve been through thick times and thin times always sharing life honestly. I almost called even though she hates the phone.
I wanted to call but there is no time.
So I wanted to write all of this out yesterday for you, while I was passionate and irritated and cranky.
But there is no time. There is never enough time.
This morning I read this, and I realized my work, my kids, my blog, my life, it is all intertwined and there is no line between them. For that I’m thankful. But damnit, Internet, if you could just come over and make my kids not so… clingy? needy? freaking KERAZY? So that I could poop/change my tampon/ walk three feet alone? That would be great.
But I know you get it. I know.
I hear it gets easier.
It gets easier.
*updated for my beyotches who gave me shit about not having them first. :: cough :: that’s love, baby.
10 guests here now.
I wish I could give you a big hug and reassure you it does, indeed, get easier.
On the surface I may appear to be finding balance, but trust me…it is a CONSTANT struggle. Hubby is really struggling with it since he has his own busines. I’m lucky in that I can mostly leave the job/job at the office.
But I tend to get way in over my head, too. Then again, I get bored if I don’t have multiple projects. Le sigh…
I’m hoping you can find that elusive thing called balance. I think it’s the Holy Grail of Muthahood!
By Jamie on 2008 06 03
I had one of these days yesterday too, and today isn’t looking much better. Ugg. And much of it had to do with a 34 year old kid..LOL
Somedays I wish I were a drinker.
By LisaAnniePants on 2008 06 03
Amen, friend. It’s gotta get easier, I know it will I know it will I know it will. In the meantime, THANK GOD FOR FRIENDS - internet or otherwise. Holy smokes.
Love you, hang in there. xo.
By supermama on 2008 06 03
i don’t know that it gets easier..it just gets, erm, different. for instance, i can now poo without people walking in and out of the bathroom, but i have the constant whine of a pre-pre-pubescent drama queen….and i FEAR the actual teenage years.
now i’m more mentally tired than physically tired.
By ali on 2008 06 03
Move more closer to me…then you can bring them over when things get all dramatic and I can get LB beat, oh, I mean molded into a sweet little angel! She and Bacon can play and distract each other. I can make you fancy pants spresso all day too with my fancy machine and I won’t get offended if you bring your own lunch!
By mommastantrum on 2008 06 03
Dude. I could have called you back - I pay $5/month for 16 hours of LD! I didn’t hear the need in your voice. Damn.
I should have called you back - sorry babygirl. I swear it does get better. xo
By Karen Sugarpants on 2008 06 03
It does, it does, it does get easier, but that’s only if you survive the psychotic break first. At least that’s what it feels like when you don’t want one more person to touch you EVER!
Hang in there kiddo, and know I’m always just a chat away.
By MammaLoves on 2008 06 03
I was at the end of my rope last night too, but I wouldn’t have been there to answer the phone. My knight in shining armor took over the “walk the wailing toddler back to bed” routine for the rest of the evening and sent me to chill at Barnes & Noble for a couple hours.
You can always call ME - I just don’t like calling other people! lol!
By laura on 2008 06 03
I hear you! It is effing hard. What an honest and actually quite humorous post - I suppose I found it humorous because I can relate so totally to what you’re feeling! Can’t we even freakin’ just take a bath without having someone need something…AAAACKKK!!!
By Ness on 2008 06 03
Boy, do I get you. I am SO there, constantly losing my shit and feeling like a failure and getting no sleep just to get it all done.
Does it get easier? Does it? ‘Cause with my daughter I’m thinking maybe it’s gonna get worse…
By Colleen on 2008 06 03
It doesn’t get easier. You get smarter, faster, wiser, and then it gets different. The lady that said it gets easier was high on diaper fumes. The good thing in it all is we have friends and know moms who’ve been through it all. God bless ‘em.
You’ll get through it and the other end of it all, you will say, “Dammit, I’m sooo good and soooo glad I’m on the other side”. This affords you the ability, when your kids have their own kids, to then laugh at it all, feed the grandkids too many cookies and send them home.
By Jenn on 2008 06 03
The lady that said it gets easier was high on diaper fumes.
PS. I felt you should know I don’t mean you commenters, your commenters rock. :o) It’s that invisible perfect mom we all hear in our ear who makes us all feel guilty when we have bad days. I think I want to stick her head in my laundry pile for good.
By Jenn on 2008 06 03
Wait, it gets easier?
I want some of THAT.
By ben on 2008 06 03
typing one-handed…grrrr…. I don’t know about this getting easier sh—because today has bee NO EASIER than yesterday….
We are in the exact same boat, aren’t we. I’m here for you (even though I can hardly BREATH from all this)! I’m a pinkberry away—and you have my phone number.
By Haley-O on 2008 06 03
Whether it gets easier . . . I don’t know about that. But I do know one thing, that is that we are all in this boat together.
Hang in there.
By Carrie on 2008 06 03
Call me any day. You know I LOVE to talk on the phone and before you know it you will forget why you called and be wishing you could get off the phone and spend time with those kids instead of wasting time listening to me go on and on about nothing. See, I even have the talent to type on endlessly just the way I talk.
I’m here for you Sistah!
By Laura on 2008 06 03
Yeah, it’s hard to make a phone call with kids hanging off you while you scream, “JUST GET OFF OF ME!”
But I still would have listened to that. And maybe mocked you a little, but in that friend way. You know?
Seriously, CALL. We can scream together.
By Elaine on 2008 06 03
You crack me up. Nice to see we are “moving up” in the world. Haha- this won’t make sense to anyone but you, but that’s ok. Thanks for the promotion.
By Michelle on 2008 06 03
I volunteer to come watch your kids if the need to change your tampon ever gets THAT bad. Hope the rest of your week goes well, and that you have time to pee and stuff.
By Shamelessly Sassy on 2008 06 03
It doesn’t get easier. Physically, yeah, easier that way, but mentally, much tougher.
You could always call me - I’m off work for the summer now!!!!
By carmen on 2008 06 04