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Category: parenting

Fuckety Fuck Fuck Fuck

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I saw this brilliant piece of art the other day and posted it to my Facebook wall.  And it got me thinking, you know, as shit like this tends to do.

I swear a lot.   It’s worked its way into my vocabulary just as casually as putting on a sweater.  I use the word fuck as an adjective, a noun, a verb, an adverb and pop it into any sentence that needs a little emphasis or colouring.

Now, since I am 100% against assholery, I am able to omit it in certain settings.   I turn it of when working with children or at my bartending job.  But I swear around my own children.  Because its my house and I make the rules here.

I tell my kids that saying “grown up” words is one of those things that you have be a grown up to use.  And that even when you use them, you have to make sure you know your audience.

For example:  Going to a job interview and dropping a couple of f-bombs is probably not in your best interest if you want to land the job.   Colouring a good story with a couple of “fuckins” and “holy shits” at school is probably going to land you in hot water.

But seriously, once you’re a grown up, why does it even fucking matter?   Why is it “profanity”?   Why are people so damn offended by this language?

The world has become an Offend-A-Thon when it comes to petty nonsense like this.   Some Cockbucket decided that swearing is offensive and now we’ve got shit like “no swearing” policies in the workplace.   Seriously?   How about you go and figure out how to do your job and stop monitoring the adjectives coming out of my mouth?   I am 39 years old.   Get a a grip and find something enlightening to share with the world besides your ability to be a completely useless human being.

We live in a place where not everyone has clean running water.   Where women make less money than men for doing the same job with the same qualifications.  Where law enforcement can shoot a man because of assumptions they made due to the colour of his skin.

Where health care isn’t considered a human right.  Where wars rage over oil and religion.  People are starving while some of us throw out extra food.  Children are being exploited and abused.

Shall I go on, or do you get the point?

The point is, FIND SOMETHING ELSE TO BE OFFENDED ABOUT YOU CUNTS.  All this shit going on in the world and some asshole has time to get all worked about the words coming out of my mouth?   Can we please expend our energy into actually making the world a better place rather than worrying about whether I swore at you?

I’ll make you a deal.   I’ll stop using the word Fuck, when someone finds a way to solve all these Fuckworthy problems in the world.   Stop giving me so much shit to swear about and I’ll clean up my mouth.

In the meantime, I will continue to delight you all with my Mouth of Potty.

Fuck Yeah.

 

 

 

Guess What? I F*cking Speak French Too, Lady.

Longtime no post.   I KNOW.

But seriously, having contact with other parents in a public setting and their entitled, stuck up little brats have inspired me to pick up my keyboard.

Twice in the last week I have witnessed other peoples children acting like total douchebags at a playground.  Twice in the last week I have had to speak to someone else’s child about their behavior in a public place.   Once, because the parent’s pre-teenish girls were nowhere to be found and their actions were putting the welfare of some wee ones in danger.  Fair enough.  Those kids backed off and despite being totally obnoxious on the swing set realized when they had pushed too far and an adult was taking back the authority on the goddamn playground.  The thing that killed me about that is that the mom of the little one in danger of getting hit with shit being thrown up the slide stood by and was too fucking afraid to say something to a 10 or 12 year old kid.   She thanked me for coming across the playground to fix it but Jesus Christ are we so afraid to be grownups?   Do the kids have all the power?

Well, it would appear as though yes.

Today, while at an indoor play area, this woman showed up with her two kids who were a few years older than mine.  I’d say about 8-10.

She was busy on her phone, trying to book dance classes for her daughter, and shot me an annoyed look because my kids were being noisy.  In a children’s play area and she had to go outside the glass to finish her conversation.   I was already less than enchanted.   It’s a playground lady.   I fuck around on my phone while my kids play too, as long as there is no bullshit and nothing needs my attention, but I don’t try to deal with any business where I have to hear what a human on the other end of the phone is saying.   I’m not a glutton for punishment.

Anyway.

This is a high indoor structure that has netting to hold the kids in should they fall.   It also has netting along the side on a high, double bump slide that goes hella fast.

Well, her kid decided to pull the netting away from beside the slide so that he could get in behind and underneath the slide part of the structure.

And of course, my three year old copied him.

I have a few problems with this.   First, the netting is now not doing its job.   So if a kid gets air and flies to the side, they now literally have no safety net because it is not secured properly.  Second, the staff clearly do not want kids behind there.  Part of the reason it is in place is to keep the kids out.  Third, monkey see, monkey fucking do.  What might be a “safe” behavior for a 10 year old, is not necessarily safe for a 3 year old.

And fourth, and adult just politely asked you to come out from there, and you told her you don’t have to because your mom lets you do it.

So when Ms. Twatwaddle, whose attention I tried to get because I wrongly assumed that she would be interested in asking her child to follow the same rules as every one else FINALLY came back in, she proceeded to not give a shit, because she felt it was “safe”.

When I pointed out that while he might be “safe” but had created a potentially unsafe situation for other kids she also didn’t give a shit.   When I pointed out that her son completely disregarded the request of an adult in the area she also didn’t give a shit.   And then she proceeded to patronize me in French to her child, right in front of me.

Well guess what?   I fucking speak French, and you, ma’am, are everything that’s wrong with the next generation of kids and the way they behave.

I actually don’t give that much of a shit about what happened at the playground.   Kids act like assholes there all the time and it’s part of how they sort out some social skills.

But I felt like she is one of those self entitled bitches who teach their kids that the rules apply to everyone else except for them.  And as a parent, a teacher, and a fellow human being, it makes me really angry.  It’s just another blaring example of how there are never any consequences for anything because the kids are holding all the damn cards.

Sometimes I wish that beating people upside the head with their own genitals was a reasonable reaction to their stupidity.  Until then, I’ll continue to just beat my head against the wall and curse on the internet about it.

 

 

To All The Sancti-Mommies Out There: Just Don’t.

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Pinterest

So last week I got caught up in an online discussion about ill behaved children in the grocery store.

A super observant, knowledgeable, and childless woman made all sorts of comments about how inappropriate it was for the parents to have tried to control their child’s tantruming by offering a bribe.   Or whatever.  She watched.  She judged.  And then she proclaimed her disapproval on social media like a total cow.

Anyway, the exchange pissed me off.  I am so tired of trying so hard to do right by my kids.  And having what feels like an army of Sancti-Mommies always screaming about how wrong I am for doing/thinking/feeling/trying/asking/wondering the things I am.  Or posting the “how you’ve fucked up your kids for good” article of the day.

And then there’s this new breed of Sancti-Non-Mommies who also want to weigh in on the discussion?   Because they took a few behaviour management courses that one time in University?

No thanks.

Also, fuck you.

So in order to deal with some of my feelings (don’t tell anybody I have feelings or I will cut you) , I have been trolling some of the mommy blogging sites in order to tell some of these bitches to suck it.

Does that make me a terrible person?

Maybe.

Probably.

But here’s the thing:  With the exception of the vaccination debate, where your choice does actually affect those around you I don’t actually give a fuck how you parent your child.

Like, not even a little bit.

What I’m interested in is hearing you share what works for you so that we parents can use each other as a resource when we are out of answers and patience.   Isn’t that what those sites were invented for?

Instead, everybody is Judgy-Judgering one a another and pointing fingers and making all sorts of assumptions about other people.   Throwing out accusations of violence and child abuse if you’ve resorted to spanking or chosen to circumcise your son.   The irreversable psychological damage you’ve done to your child by yelling at them.  How you’ve brain damaged them by allowing them to eat sugar.  Or how your kid will be smarter/healthier/better because you were able to breastfeed and I was just too lazy/selfish/stupid to do the same.

God.  We even get up in one anothers business for what kind of birth they had.

And my problem is not with what choices you make for your child.  My problem is with the choices you make about how you treat other people.  You may always speak to your child in a calm, respectful tone that explains your point of view and outlines your expectations.   You never raise your voice to them and certainly not your hand.   You are parent of the year in every way whose kid eats what’s on their plate, always follows the rules, never cries or tantrums, loves to grocery shop, goes to bed on time, puts their shoes on the first time you ask, cleans the house, walks the dog, all due to your awesomeness as a human being and in spite of the rest of us fuck ups down the street or linked to you on social media.  But when it comes to discussions about managing life as a working parent or disciplining your kids, we are all guilty of being class A bitches to one another.

This is such utter bullshit.  We all work our asses off to make our kids have the best lives possible.   And at some point we have decided that because something in our circumstance works or does not, it suddenly applies to every other human being out there.

IT DOESN”T.

So, to all the Sancti-Mommies out there:

Share your shit, but be realistic.   Be raw.  We can smell your entitled talk and insecurities a mile and a mouse click away.   You are not any better than the rest of us, you are just better at parenting YOUR OWN CHILD than the rest of us.  Stop acting like you have all the answers for everyone.   Stop making ridiculously overly dramatic statements about what another parent has chosen or tried or failed at.  Step off that high horse and let him go and graze in the pasture for a while.  Your burden of arrogance and judgement are too heavy for him to bear.

We. Are. All Doing.The Best.We.Can.

 

 

 

 

Still Getting Shit Done

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CBC

The other day I came across this post on Twitter ( or something….I honestly can’t remember the source because PARENTHOOD) of a mom who was tandem nursing her 5 week old twins, while working away on a laptop.   She made some sort of remark about being exhausted, not sleeping, barely functioning, but “still getting shit done”.

Well, honey.   Good for you.

I’m happy that she feels like she can get it all done.  A baby on each boob, not even  healed from the physical aspects of birth let alone the hormonal and emotional ones of becoming a mother, and happily working away.

Being ok with feeling like ass, and barely knowing what day of the week it is, and banging out some projects on your computer.

Jesus Christ.   What the hell is wrong with the world?

And no, I’m not shaming her.   If she wants to be a superstar human and do all of those things and is ok with that, then great.  Go for it.  Be the superhero.

I am lucky to live in Canada, where we have maternity benefits for up to one year after the birth of our child.   The first three months are maternity leave, and then the remaining nine months can be split with our partner pretty much any way we like.

Because even if if we can somehow find a way to work through the exhaustion, stay upright, and make sure that everyone is fed and the laundry is done and still get to work on time, why should we have to?  

In the States, many women get 6 weeks or even less of maternity leave.   Sometimes its completely unpaid.

And I can tell you from experience that going back to work 6 weeks after your baby is born is pretty much the biggest pile of shit ever.   Even when the person you are handing over care to is your husband.

As someone who is self employed, my babies were luckily both born in the summer and I went back to work when the school year began. Otherwise I wold have had no income, and no guarantee that my students would come back to me when I was ready to teach again.   It was so hard.   Because even though my husband was the “primary caregiver”  there is something very difficult to describe about the bond between an infant and her mother.   I was still getting up at night regularly.  I was still dealing with post partum anxiety and hormones.  I was still having a hard time with an unstable pelvis from the birth.  And there was nothing about being separated from my baby that made me feel good.

So, I have been in this woman’s shoes, and luckily for me and for her ( she is an artist) we are able to work primarily from home and decide what our ours of work are.

But what if you have a physically demanding job?   What if your career demands long hours?   High pressure?

We need to start taking better care of our mothers, and us mothers need to be ok with being cared for.

So the problem that I had with the woman’s post about “getting shit done”  is the implication that every woman should be able to and that it is completely normal to literally have a baby under each arm while doing your job.   It’s that this mom feels like she has to inspire other women that they can be a badass mom too.

What if they don’t want to be a badass?  What if you just want to be there for your children without feeling like you aren’t strong enough to balance a career alongside it?   What if you just don’t want the superhero to be the expectation of you?

I get it.   I have to work to.   But I will tell you hands down that the first year of a child’s life is mentally and emotionally exhausting and that having to work during it is not in everyone’s best interest.  There were many times that I felt on the edge.   Like on the fucking brink.

The US needs to get its shit together.   The reality is that many families simply cannot survive on one income anymore. I know we can’t.   But no woman should be forced to go back to work before her vagina is even done bleeding after the birth of her baby.   It’s beyond ridiculous.

All of us moms know we can “get shit done”.   Because we do.  But seriously.    You never ever get those weeks and months back.   The work will always be there waiting for you, but you will never ever regret focusing on your kids while they are tiny.   In that first year ( and beyond), I truly believe the only shit we should be getting done is putting ourselves back together while building a relationship with our tiny humans.   Seriously.   Just give us a break.

The bottom line is that women are constantly in this tug of war between career and family.   Much more so than men.   We are constantly having to sacrifice a piece of ourselves.   And usually, as apparent in the Twitter post about getting shit done, it’s the mom herself that is being sacrificed.   Why is it ok to feel exhausted and sleep deprived all the time?   Why is this how we become superheroes?

I guess for me personally, if there are three things on the table:   Myself, my child, or my job; and I need to sacrifice part of something to keep getting shit done, the first two choices should be non negotiable.

That doesn’t make me selfish.   That doesn’t make me a pussy.   And accepting that I should have to sacrifice my own well being is something I am no longer willing to do.   If I don’t take care of me, then the other two things suffer anyway.

So.  Make your own choice.  But ultimately, stop accepting less than you deserve and then cheering about how you can still make it work.   You shouldn’t fucking have to.

International Woman’s Day Is Every Day

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Wearing red for IWD 2017

Once upon a time, someone at a press conference asked Joss Whedon why he always writes such strong female characters and created stories about them.   ( not a direct quote, but you get the idea).

After a while he concluded it was because people are still asking him that question.

Do you ever notice that?   Nobody would ask a writer or producer or director why there are strong male characters, we just sorta expect that to happen.

But a strong woman character?   How odd.

Today, on International Woman’s Day, I want to acknowledge every single woman out there who has ever had to work twice as hard to get half as far.  I want to acknowledge every woman who made the tough decision to give up their career in order to raise their family.  The woman who gave up the idea of ever having children because the demands of her male dominated field would never tolerate it, no matter what the law says.

For every woman who has said no and had yes stolen from her.  For every woman who raised a child she never wanted and couldn’t afford but loved regardless while a man had the luxury of walking away.

Every little girl who was told she couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t deserve to anyway.  For the little girl who grew up and said fuck that, and did it better than any man.

For every wife who stood by her partner and made it possible for him to succeed while receiving no credit for it.

For every time you wiped a snotty nose or changed a diaper or made it through another day without crying yourself to sleep from exhaustion and frustration while receiving no thank you for the life you are supporting.

For every minute of childbirth that you endured in order to bring the greatest love of your life into this world.

For every woman who ever looked in the mirror and hated herself.  For putting everyone’s needs ahead of your own.

And for every woman who decided what she wanted and got it.   For inspiring other girls and women to do better for themselves.

For every single woman out there, regardless of your heritage, your colour, your sexuality, your socio-economic status, your age, your education.   Regardless of everything.

You are worth more to this world than the world knows.  

Be strong, be demanding, and never ever back down.   Be resilient.  Be epic.

International Woman’s Day is every fucking day.   Joss Whedon gets that.   Be more like Joss Whedon.

 

Parents: Get Off Your Phone

 

Have you guys seen this yet?    The daycare that posted a sign telling parents to get off their phone when picking up their children?

Which side of the argument do you fall?   Can you justify the parents behaviour?   Has the daycare overstepped?

I’ll tell you what I think.

Parents, in this particular situation, I think you need to get off your goddamn phone.

Here’s why.   Your child has been waiting for this moment ALL.DAY.LONG.  As much as they love their friends and their school/daycare, they love you the most.   They want so badly to make you proud of them.  They need you to be excited to see them and make them feel like this is the moment YOU have been looking for ALL.DAY.LONG.

When I first pick up my child from daycare/school or a babysitter, those first few minutes are paramount to understanding the behaviour they display throughout the rest of the day.   It is important for you to listen to what they tell you so that you can support them if they need support, congratulate them on something they did that was new, or hug them if they feel sad.  You can’t assess the situation if you aren’t present in the moment.

And what I’ve learned personally, is that if I don’t give my child my full attention when I first see them, they will feel let down.   I will effectively rain on their parade, and set myself up for failure with them afterwards.

Now, hey, I GET IT.

I fuck around on my phone ALL THE TIME at the playground, or while they are entertaining themselves or even when I declare a 30 minute quiet time in the house.

And that’s totally ok.   You don’t need to be up your kid’s ass, entertaining them every step of the way through life.  They need to learn to work out some social  skills on their own too without you interfering.

But not that moment. Not that moment when they first see you after a whole day of being apart.   You need to make them feel like a priority in your life.

Tell your boss you’ll call them back.   Set a boundary that your child comes first.   That from 4:30-5:00 pm every day you are unavailable.

If the call is SO important, take it before going inside with a quick “I’ll call you in 30 minutes” ( unless it is an emergency).  And emergencies aren’t a change in soccer practice venue, by the way.

Let the school leave a message.  Let them call your partner instead.

Ask yourself if you were in a meeting at work, would you answer the phone?

Soccer, your parents, the vet, whomever can just wait a goddamn minute and learn some patience themselves.  We keep saying that we need to teach our children that the world doesn’t revolve them, so we can teach the adults in our lives the same fucking thing.   The world doesn’t have to revolve around your kids, but show them enough love and respect in this situation so that they KNOW they are important to you.

NOW.

TO THE DAYCARE.

Although I support the motivation behind the sign, I can’t tell you how grossly inappropriate the sign on the window is.

It is condescending, lacking respect, and downright fucking rude.   And if any child care worker or teacher dare speak to me about my parenting  in such a manner they would have no further contact with my child in a big hurry.  Because if they are going to speak to ME that way, the hand that is literally feeding them, how are they speaking to my child when I am not around?

Try something like this next time:

Dear Parents,

Please refrain from using your phone while picking up your child (unless in absolute emergency).  They are so excited to see you when you get here, and we feel like you can best support them by giving them your full attention.

The staff would also like the opportunity to speak with you as the need arises regarding any successes or difficulties that may have occurred during the day, illness or other special circumstances.

Thank you for respecting our space, and making yourselves fully available to us.

Have a great day!

Sincerely,

Director

 

Ok Bitches, what do you think?

What Kind Of Mom Are You At The Playground?

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Pixabay

Yesterday I decided to do the dumbest thing in the world and take both of my tiny humans to the mall in the post Christmas sales blitz.

But the mall has a play area you see.   And we were on the second day after a blizzard, it was fucking cold outside and Husband was sleeping after a night shift.

The mall was my only hope.

So we went.  I found some fabulous boots on sale, the monsters didn’t monster too bad in the shoe stores and I rewarded them with a lengthy run in the overcrowded, germ infested insanity of the mall play area.

It was ridiculously busy, so I didn’t dare even take a “mom-out” to look at my phone for fear that Buddy would fuck off on me just for a special Christmastime treat.

Instead, I watched.  And I found it super interesting to watch the other parents out there.  Their style.   Their involvement.  The way they speak to their kids.

There’s a lot of different types of moms out there.

Myself, I’m a stay out of it but watching the whole time kind of mom.  I like to see the kids play and figure out how to interact with other personalities without much coaching from me.  I like to see them react or not react to what the other kids do, and especially love to see how kids just play with other kids without hesitation.  I am always ready to jump in if they can’t figure something out, but I figure they won’t learn how to push their boundaries and physical limitations if I always step in.   I like to let kids be kids, so to speak.

Also, I like to sit the fuck down for a few minutes sometimes, and let my children be entertained by other children.

There was this one mom who actually called her child over and told him not to play with my child because Buddy at one point had his finger up his nose.  “Don’t go over there and touch where he touched”.  

Lady, while I appreciate your effort to rid the world of communicable diseases, I can assure you that every surface in a crowded mall play area contain some type of booger or spit or tears or something equally gross.   He’s three.  He pretty much has a finger in his nose or down his pants 75% of the time, regardless of efforts on my part to get him to leave his orifices alone. Give it up.

There was another poor mom who had a baby on her hip, and spent the entire time chasing her two-ish year old back into the playground.  She was the mom who was constantly redirecting her kid, and got no rest at all.

God I remember those days.  Mall people:  Can you get a brain and put a gate across the exit so this poor woman can sit down and have a coffee while her kid runs free for a few minutes?

Then there’s the dads.  They tend to not ever say anything to their kids.  No nagging, no calling for them, no baby talking them.  They just physically alter their kid’s course by picking them up, twirling them upside down a few times, and setting them down in a different place.  An ultimate disorientation and redirection plan.  I like it.  I like it A LOT.

Then there’s the regular parents that just sit there.  Sometimes they chat with you.  These are my favourite kind.  Nobody trying to out-parent you.  Not trying to tell you how to do a better job.  Just normal parents.

What kind of Mom are you at the mall, Bitches?

 

 

Motherhood: Limiting Or Limitless?

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Pinterest

Over a Sunday morning coffee while watching our not so tiny humans play, I caught myself saying the words “It can be really limiting”.

The “It”  was motherhood.   The “It” was irregular work hours.  The “It” was financial obligations and a need and desire to provide all the things I could for my kids.

But what was I limiting?

We were talking about work, career, and furthering our education.   We were talking about giving ourselves a little bit of consideration after spending time at home with our children.

And then it dawned on me.  The only thing that I’ve been  limiting was my career, and perhaps due to guilt by association, my ego. 

Because you know what wasn’t being limited one bit?   The privilege of getting to see the first steps of both of my kids.  The privilege of hearing their first words, and soothing their first face plant. I was the one to make my daughter feel better when she got stung by a wasp, and make her first sandcastle, and print her name for the first time.

I’ve been there all along.

I’ve had the privilege of letting my kids drive me up the fucking wall and around some asshole’s bend every single day since they were born.  I’ve been blessed to spend so much time with them that I need a break and fantasize about a 24 hours alone in my house.

So you know what hasn’t been limited?  The opportunity to raise decent kids in a world full of greed and assholery and downright nastiness.   My chance to make the world a wee bit better has not been limited because my ego said that I should be more than what I am.  I have been gifted this chance to have such a huge impact on their lives and the people that they become.  Isn’t that more important than feeling like I am keeping up with my friends who have high paying, highly successful careers?  Is it ok to put my family first and catch up later?  Or not catch up later because really, who gives a fuck about what I do anyway?  When did I decide that my children are limiting my life?  Because I want a better job?  Because I want a PHD added to my name?  When did I decide that being a mom isn’t enough for me?

I’ve decided that at least for now, I am ok with my primary description as “mother”. 

Because that’s not limiting.   It’s limitless.

The time will come when they’ll need me less, or at least differently then they do now.   When that time comes I will answer that quiet nagging to continue to feed my ego’s needs for career and change and education and success and whatever that entails.  In the meantime, I’m going to try to transform what I’ve been seeing as limitations into limitless opportunities of memory making and moments that I will never get back again.  And appreciating that so many of us don’t have that chance.

Kudos to all those women who work hard every day and sacrifice so much time with their kids.  Kudos to those moms who are able to seize an opportunity for education or travel or whatever makes them feel good.   Kudos for being able to balance it all.

But for me right now, it’s ok not to be the best at everything all the time, as long as I’m the best at what is most important to me.   I’m going to allow myself the luxury of being ok with who and what I am in this moment, not because I am limited by my current situation, but because I am blessed by it.

 

 

Motherhood Isn’t For Everyone, And That’s Ok.

I read this article over tea this morning and I have to say it struck a bit of a nerve.  It’s a bit long, but it describes how many moms ( and dads too) secretly resent and hate motherhood.

And I don’t blame them one little bit.

Here’s the raw truth, no Facebook filters or sneak peeks into how amazing our days are.

Motherhood is the shits a lot of the time.

It actually really fucking sucks a good chunk of the time.

I can see how so many women are just not interested in participating in something that literally sucks the life force out of you and spits you back out in an effort to still be a moderately well functioning member of society.

Your whole life now revolves around managing unreasonable, moody, nonsensical tiny humans and keeping them alive every day.   You are blessed with the task of trying to take these maniacal little dictators who push you to the very limit of your humanity every 90 seconds and turn them into someone who will not end up contributing to the general assholery of the world.

It complicates everything.   You can’t just take a class, or go back to school, or volunteer your time, or make yourself a better human in any way without having to figure out who is going to step in and do your mom job for you while you are out making yourself less of a shit.

All while not sleeping, managing household tasks, cleaning, managing what’s left of your career and generally just trying not to fucking explode into one of the 17 directions you are being pulled in on a daily basis.

It’s not for everyone.

And like anything else, sometimes you don’t know that until it’s too late.  And I can understand why some women just can’t.

Some days I feel like that too.

And yes.   I know I wanted this.   I know that I CHOSE this.   I know that so many women can’t have children and probably hate everything about what I am saying.   But Bitches.

Motherhood is really hard.   And just because it was my decision to make this my life doesn’t make it go away and doesn’t take away my right to say so.

BUT.

There is this nagging thing for me that makes it all ok.   And that nagging thing is a love so strong that not only would I step in front of oncoming traffic to save my babies, but I would do so repeatedly, every goddamn day  for the rest of my existence.   I would sacrifice my own growth for them a thousand times over so that they can become twice the person I am.

And yeah.   Sometimes it’s hard to see women around me doing all these amazing things professionally and socially and fucking just generally while I am at home trying to convince my three year old to eat his lunch and that licking ketchup off his fingers doesn’t count.

But I don’t care.   I count my successes in smiles and hugs and successful trips to the potty.  I can’t do it all and won’t try to anymore.

But for some of you out there that feel like you’re drowning and you wish that your life was something other than what it is……I see you.   I get you.   I could be you.

It’s not for everyone.   But hang on if you can, and hopefully one day that will change.

And for the rest of us……find your people.   Support your people.   Don’t mom alone….there is strength in numbers!

 

 

I’m Pretty Sure I Invented Mom Guilt, But You Can Share

A good friend of mine posted a little video about mom guilt on Facebook this morning. A bunch of mom’s talking about the things they could take back from the day, lies they told their kids, things they wish they hadn’t said.

And here I thought I invented Mom Guilt.  Turns out that deep down, a lot of you Bitches feel like you suck balls at this gig too.

I suffer from this guilt thing a lot.  Husband works long days, and by the end of his rotation I usually feel ready to either sell my children to anyone who likes repeating themselves over and over again with no results, or literally filling the bathtub up with tequila in hopes that is a pleasant way for me to drown.

In this stupid day and age of being hopelessly busy and being pulled in 5000 directions at once, I simply cannot deal with the amount of time it takes my children to accomplish one task. Why is it SO HARD to put your fucking shoes on?   Why is that always the wrong hat?  Why can they not pay attention for long enough to put on their jacket and for GOD”S SAKE how come nobody can stand straight and face me when I try to zip it up?

Sometimes I cannot handle the random crying and drama that occurs seemingly every second without justification.  The fights about nothing.  The tattle-taling.  The whining.  The constant needing.  The mess making.

The pants shitting.

And so I do what every mother out there has done for generations.

I yell.  I threaten.  I punish.

And.I.Get.Nowhere.

Besides feeling horrible and making them feel horrible, that is.  I also get one step closer to needing therapy and detox and a new liver.  But that’s a whole other post.

And then I put them to bed and think “Tomorrow is a new day.  A better day.  I will be more patient and try to spend more time just hanging out with them.  All they really want is more attention.  I can do this.”

And then, the next day happens and I am so busy feeding them and cleaning up after them and doing laundry and working that time runs out again and I left with the mom guilt for another day. I never, ever, ever, feel like it’s enough.  Like I’m enough.

Thankfully, every now and again, we have a day where everything goes just right.  I put all my bullshit aside and focus just on them.  I say “yes” more often.  I let the schedule go.  I let the dishes sit.  I make all the things that are usually such a big ass deal no big deal, and just fucking let it stay where it is. We stay up past bedtime.  We get dirty and eat junk food and just never mind about all the things that really aren’t that important after all.

And it’s all ok.  Everybody is still alive the next day.

So far.

And then I feel guilty that I don’t do all that more often.

But you see Bitches.  Mom guilt is just this thing that happens when you love something so much that you set up this impossible standard for yourself.  It’s when you love something so much you can’t possibly ever do enough because there is no action that could ever possibly declare just how much you actually love it.

We will always have mom guilt because we won’t ever be done trying to give our children every single thing they need to be nice humans and smart humans and happy humans.  We have the mom guilt because even though children need to be corrected, and moms are allowed to get frustrated, we don’t want our kids to ever for one second think we aren’t on their side.

We feel guilt because we want more for them than is possible to give.  So we never feel like it’s enough.

So, chin up Bitches.  Tell a few lies that helps to avoid a temper tantrum.  Yell at them when they are assholes, because sometimes love involves teaching them that being an asshole is not a desirable endeavour. Drink the wine and vow to love them JUST AS MUCH TOMOROW  as you do today.  Not more, because that’s hardly possible.

And have a “free day” sometimes where you just lower your expectations and give yourselves a goddamn break.

 

 

 

 

 

AfterOtis

Written by Natalie Oldham

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