Posted in Motherhood, nonsense

Being a Mom is hard work

Being a mother is inarguably one of the hardest jobs a woman can ever do. Despite knowing this, generation after generation of women feel they fall short at being good mothers. Most mothers feel this way because it is stressful; it involves long hours and no breaks. We work hard to provide for our families and to take care of them, but we don’t always feel like we are doing our best.

Before I become a mother, I thought that once I become a mother, I would be the perfect mother. I would have a perfectly clean home, perfectly dressed children, and perfectly cooked meals – all this, and maintain a successful career. Of all the goals I have achieved, I feel like a failure when it comes to motherhood because I can’t be this so-called perfect mother and to be successful at motherhood on a daily basis.

Those are the days where I wonder what was I thinking? Me, a perfect mother? Some days, I think that I am getting it right and other days, I wonder if I ever will get it right. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mom but being a mom is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. At the same time, I wouldn’t trade my children for anything or other children. My kids are unique. They are smart and funny. They are responsible and talented. Some days, parenting is a challenge and other days, it seems like it is easy. There are nights when I crawl into bed and I think I have done an amazing job and other times, I go to bed frustrated, exhausted and wondering why I can’t get this whole parenting thing right.

I spent most of night up with a teething toddler (we have had many sleepless nights because of those incoming molars) and I managed to make it in to work – late, but nevertheless, I did make it in. My home has looked like Fort Knox for a week now simply because I am too tired in the evening to do anything and my kids have been eating take-out or whatever comes out of a box, can, freezer, etc. I was in such a bad mood this morning because of the lack of sleep that I snapped at my nine year old more times than I could count. It is not his fault that I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in days nor is it his fault we were running late. Of course, I felt guilty and these are the days when I wonder what kind of mother I am.

It has taken Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromyalgia to smack me in the face and remind me that I am not perfect and that no one is. My kids don’t really care if the dishes are done and whether the meal I cook is perfect. They will take macaroni and cheese, corn and chicken nuggets over a fancy meal that took hours to prepare. Do they really care when the piles of dirty laundry get done or even whether I wear sweats or a pretty outfit?

I have gotten to a point where I have decided that I can’t be too hard on myself when my life is unorganized and I don’t feel perfect. I have to always anticipate the unexpected and realize that mothering is a learning process. I love the life I have now and I wouldn’t take it for anything. I also know that one day that when my children are grown up, I will actually know everything that I thought I knew before my kids were born. I might actually even get close to being perfect – just maybe anyway.


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