Motherhood, Joys of
Tomorrow is Columbus Day (a holiday of almost unmitigated bogusness, if you ask me, but of course nobody did). This means one long day of non-stop parenting. (It's sort of a trade, because Cassie had Friday off too, for some Teachers' Professional Day whatsihoosie, and Pete did the honors that day because I had to teach. But as you might notice if you look closely, that was just the 6-year-old, which is significantly different from the 2-year-old and the 6-year-old. And plus? She spent a big chunk of the day with the 8-year-old who lives next door doing some fabulous activity supervised by the 8-year-old's dad. I don't even remember what that activity was, because all I keep hearing from Cassie is how he got them slushees afterwards, which was apparently just about the high point of Cassie's life up till now. Anyway, I am hereby putting in for extra parent points. Thank you.)
Now, you know by now that I am very into the progeny of me. I think that Cassie and Emerson totally rock, and sometimes I just look at them and think how ridiculously lucky I am. They are just exactly what I wanted for Christmas, and motherhood is all I wanted it to be. Okay. So that.
But a whole day--a whole day. Oof.
Emerson! EMERSON!! NO THROWING DIRT! Cassie, would you please... yes, that's really nice, sweetheart, but what I'm trying to... Emerson! NOT IN THE STREET! Cassie, if you walk ahead, I think that Emerson will want to catch up with... Carry you? Okay, Em, for a little while, I can carry you... THANK YOU CASSIE, THAT'S GREAT. YOU CAN STOP NOW! Yes, sweetie, we are going home. We're going home now. Yes, you can play with your trucks at home. That's a good idea. Sure, the yellow one. Absolutely. No, Cassie, I think that this is less than a mile. I'm sorry that you're exhausted. Maybe you'll want a nap this afternoon? Cassie, I can't hear you when you talk while you're walking away from me. No, sweetie, I didn't really think that you wanted a nap. It was kind of a joke.
I mean, it's kind of great. It is. But also? It totally fries every nerve ending I have. By the end of a day, my mouth is a little line, and I can't seem to focus my eyes, and no amount of Prozac seems that it could ever be enough. I am so, so, so not built to be a full-time mom. It saps my strength, it saps my sanity, it saps my will to live.
There are people who can do it. There are people who like doing it. And I wish them godspeed, bless their green-blooded little alien hearts. But what I have to say? Thank all that is good and wholesome for my own gainful employment. If I were a housewife in the 50s, I would definitely have ended up either addicted to mother's-little-helpers or hospitalized in a facility with "Lawn" in the name after being found curled in a fetal position in the linen closet whimpering.
Now, you know by now that I am very into the progeny of me. I think that Cassie and Emerson totally rock, and sometimes I just look at them and think how ridiculously lucky I am. They are just exactly what I wanted for Christmas, and motherhood is all I wanted it to be. Okay. So that.
But a whole day--a whole day. Oof.
Emerson! EMERSON!! NO THROWING DIRT! Cassie, would you please... yes, that's really nice, sweetheart, but what I'm trying to... Emerson! NOT IN THE STREET! Cassie, if you walk ahead, I think that Emerson will want to catch up with... Carry you? Okay, Em, for a little while, I can carry you... THANK YOU CASSIE, THAT'S GREAT. YOU CAN STOP NOW! Yes, sweetie, we are going home. We're going home now. Yes, you can play with your trucks at home. That's a good idea. Sure, the yellow one. Absolutely. No, Cassie, I think that this is less than a mile. I'm sorry that you're exhausted. Maybe you'll want a nap this afternoon? Cassie, I can't hear you when you talk while you're walking away from me. No, sweetie, I didn't really think that you wanted a nap. It was kind of a joke.
I mean, it's kind of great. It is. But also? It totally fries every nerve ending I have. By the end of a day, my mouth is a little line, and I can't seem to focus my eyes, and no amount of Prozac seems that it could ever be enough. I am so, so, so not built to be a full-time mom. It saps my strength, it saps my sanity, it saps my will to live.
There are people who can do it. There are people who like doing it. And I wish them godspeed, bless their green-blooded little alien hearts. But what I have to say? Thank all that is good and wholesome for my own gainful employment. If I were a housewife in the 50s, I would definitely have ended up either addicted to mother's-little-helpers or hospitalized in a facility with "Lawn" in the name after being found curled in a fetal position in the linen closet whimpering.
posted by Rosie Bonner at 9:51 PM
1 Comments:
When I think about it while I'm not doing it, it doesn't seem like it should be that hard. And then, in real life, it totally is. (Well, not so much now she's 8. But when she was littler? totally.)
And somehow it was harder, or hard in a different way, being on my own with 1 kid than when I used to teach childcare and spent all day with a whole bunch of kids. Weird.
Post a Comment
<< Home