Sometimes I get so tired of the monotony that comes with doing the same idiot things day in and day out. The sweeping up of this, the wiping down of that and the laundry, oh my gawd, the fucking laundry. Sometimes I stand in front of the toilet, Lysol wipe in one hand, toilet brush in the other, and just stare. Bore holes in to the porcelain, will that bloody toilet to scrub itself. Most of the time it doesn’t get to me – I mean, why piss and moan about it when it’s gotta get done one way or the other? But sometimes? Fuck, sometimes I feel so incredibly dulled down by the housework, in all of its mind-numbing, monotonous glory, it’s a wonder my head doesn’t explode.
There are times when I look at us and think we’re good the way we are: a foursome; a family unit. I’ll look at my children and marvel at how independent they’re becoming and wonder when it was, exactly, that they started doing things for themselves: pouring their own chocolate milk, dressing themselves; forming opinions, backtalking. These ages, these stages, have offered up Dave and me a bit more freedom, a bit more breathing room, and sometimes I can’t possibly imagine adding another one to the mix. The thought of doing it all over again, of putting a portion of myself and my life on hold again to wade through diapers and wipes, sleepless nights and soulsucking exhaustion…well, it’s almost unthinkable.
And other times I ache for another baby so much that it hurts, for twinges and flutters from within, the anticipation of childbirth and the incredible, amazing elation of delivery. I'll think about creating a new life and the bewildering beauty that is to nurture, to watch a child take wing, catch flight and soar. And when I do, this intense longing groans from deep within my soul and engulfs me.
Sometimes I want another child so bad I can taste it.
Those moments when I can’t believe how totally awesome my kids are, what amazing little people they are turning out to be? I live for them. Sometimes it makes me teary, how unbelievable being their mother is, and I’ll think, How can they be mine? What did I do to deserve these beautiful, wonderful, extraordinary little creatures?
And there are times when I can’t believe how completely, unabashedly horrible they can be. For real. It leaves me incredulous, like, Whose fucking kids are these, anyway?
Sometimes I think about life before tantrums and spilled milk, slip back to the time when dinner wasn’t the bane of my fucking existence and I commonly took sleeping in for granted. A bit of wistful creeps in when I go back to those blurry nights, waking up slowly on lazy, hazy mornings. I remember a time when last-minute changes of plans were no big deal, when I could pick up and walk out the door without a second thought. When get up and go was a way of life.
And yet many times, many times indeed, I’m in awe of what is mine, of all that I have. How sometimes all it takes is a hug and a kiss to turn things around – I can be having the shittiest day and all it takes is a wee snuggle, an I love you, Mummy, to give me new perspective. How comforting it is to have someone there beside you, living out the days alongside you. Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have this family, my husband and my kids; this love.
Sometimes it takes my breath away.
37 Comments, Comment or Ping
This is awesome. So well written.
February 19th, 2009
beautifully written sweetie…i know all those feelings well.
February 19th, 2009
Brilliantly written, as always. :) Just be careful with the dead rabbit post titles, ‘k? ;)
February 19th, 2009
I am in the same kind of mood of late. I just can’ shake the funk.
Sometime, though – reading others’ perspective makes me feel like I am not alone. And I am not.
February 19th, 2009
Yes. All of it, Yes.
February 19th, 2009
Sometimes I have to step back, remind myself that it’s all in the balance. I really love the way that you say it.
February 19th, 2009
excellent perspective. thx…
(well-timed as I listen to my child scream b/c the soother hit the garbage today)
February 19th, 2009
I have nothing of value to add except…Dit. Fucking. O.
February 19th, 2009
Yes. On all things, yes.
February 19th, 2009
So well said. And so true. What gets me most is figuring out what to cook for dinner.
Love it!
February 19th, 2009
oh amen. a-freaking-men. so true. all of it.
February 19th, 2009
This is so perfect. And so true. (And it happens to me when I step on cereal for the gazillionth time that day.)
February 19th, 2009
I totally get this, babe. You are a beautiful soul
February 20th, 2009
I can totally relate:
having grown up in the warm shelter offered
by a very close family, I really counted my blessings.
I actually didn’t knew what hit me when I became an
adult and realized how comforting it once was to have someone
there beside me.
February 20th, 2009
Ooh, good descriptions. Soulsucking exhaustion. Got to remember that one. Because it’s perfect (and I was just there a few months ago, when Speedybuns Zero was born. I’m in my 40s….soulsucking is the only way to describe it. I thought I was dying those first few weeks).
Sometimes I get so pissed off about being the person who cleans the toilets and all the rest of the mindnumbingly stupid stuff that has to be done day after day after day. I mean, why me? I guess because (a) The Hubster works to feed us and (b) I care way more than anyone else about order and cleanliness. Alas.
February 20th, 2009
First of all, thanks so much for coming back to blogging – I didn’t quite get all of the troubles going on for you. Only that one day your blog was gone and then a little while later I found it again… :-)
And thanks for this post. It resonates so unbelievably much and there’s so much to be said about the comfort of those resonances. Having a nearly 4 year old whose moods suddenly started flipping around like a fish on land and oscillate between abject ugliness and divine beauty does not help with the waxing and waning of our desire to have another…
It’s not for whimps, this.
February 20th, 2009
It takes a long, long time for that feeling to go away. I am 51 years old and still, on occasion, I want to feel the twinges and flutters of new life. I know I don’t really want a baby and all that it would entail but sometimes the urge is there. It’s a good thing my husband was snipped years ago.
February 20th, 2009
You said it mama – and so well. I’ve been feeling the same way, even though Dove is only 15 months. It feels like limbo – no infant, but no freedom either. Most of the time, I’m happy just the way things are, but sometimes I’d like one or the other.
February 20th, 2009
Nothing is ever perfect. If it is, it’s not real. But you can hope for something that is more good than it is not. Which is exactly what you have. It’s my hope to end up where you are. For me,YOU are the greener grass.
Btw: I think your biggest concern should be that toilet with blood all over it. ;)
February 20th, 2009
The drudgery does get me down but the ‘wow, I made that’ factor you describe so well here carries me through.
There will be a day when the house will be clean, we can sleep in and we will miss seeing our children every day. Or at least I try to tell mysef that when they puke on me or wake me up at night.
February 20th, 2009
i can’t wait to be that lucky :D
i really cannot wait!
February 20th, 2009
This is beautifully written, and I think it really sums up life quite well =)
February 20th, 2009
Perfectly said.
Well except for the baby part, I’m fairly certain I don’t want another one…the foursome is perfect for me!
February 20th, 2009
It’s the wee snuggles I miss so terribly that I could cry.
February 20th, 2009
You just wrapped up what it means to be a mother in such a beautiful little package complete with bow and toilet brush. Sigh, I loved reading every word of this.
xxoo,
a.
February 20th, 2009
You are such a really, really, reeeeaaallly good writer. Really. And you say something here– so much– that is so universal to so many of us moms. I love how you dare to be real. And how that allows us to breath, and say it is okay, SOMEone else feels this way, too. We are all okay.
It is your gift.
:)
February 21st, 2009
I love how you’ve bridged it all, taken it all into your big and warm mommy arms and shown to us what we all (hopefully) have, a boquet of shit and laundry and love, with such a peculiar smell. Wonderful!
February 21st, 2009
It has been a huge surprise to me, the ambivalence that motherhood brings. So good to know I’m not the only one.
February 22nd, 2009
YES. Absolutely. Every word. If those “perfect post” widgets were still de rigeur, I would give you one.
February 22nd, 2009
You described motherhood to a “T”.
And yes, even after two horrendous deliveries, at the ripe of age of 41, I sometimes wish I could have just one more. I miss the baby things that both of mine have outgrown.
February 22nd, 2009
Yes, gawd yes on most accounts. I couldn’t have said it better myself, really, you said it much better, I feel all the same things. I have enough kids, but I still yearn for another…sometimes. I also yearn for the before kids me. Is this what is a mid life crisis?
February 23rd, 2009
Your ability to recognize the blessing among the boring shit makes you remarkable. So does your ability to describe it.
February 23rd, 2009
You’re reading my mind today. Seriously.
February 24th, 2009
I would have ended this post with:
“…until I smelled the toilet again.”
Just kidding!
Great post!
February 24th, 2009
It is SO TRUE, isn’t it? The feeling of are these kids MINE? and then, WHOSE KIDS ARE THESE??
I loved this post, mama t.
February 24th, 2009
Yes, to both sides of the coin.
February 24th, 2009
Love the blog, Mama T. CK
March 1st, 2009
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