Motherhood is hard work. I like to compare it to going to war. Parenthood turns your life into a war zone. You are constantly trying to avoid land mines. As soon as you see two little pink lines on an awkward shaped stick you are in the battle.
First comes the battle of the body. You wake up one morning and you feel like utter crap. Get used to it! You're pregnant. You're going to feel like crap for the rest of your life. Welcome to parenthood. You hug nasty toilets. You crave weird food. You lack sleep. Something strange happens to your bowls. Yep. You're body, you're life has been taken over by a some little person within you. Enjoy the quiet though, because that small little human is LOUD when it is fully functional on the outside world.
Then the child is born and your body hurts for other reasons. You're vagina is sore for three whole months because that precious little bundle of everlasting joy's head was too big and had to be cut out. You can't manage to get the hang of breast feeding so your boobs start to blister, pop and bleed. You scream out in agony while that little bundle sucks the life and blood from your body. The whole time you are swearing that this is the last month of the "oh so beneficial breast-feeding" and that starting tomorrow you are going to research which formula to use. All the while you can never seem to get a full nights rest.
Then comes the crawling/walking phase. The house that you once had spotless becomes a maze of bottles, diapers, teething toys, balls and baby vomit. The house that was once quiet and relaxing becomes a place of torture. A place of constant battles in which the small child screams for items that you know they just can't have. One day you'll lie flat on the floor, face down in exhaustion, near tears and say "oh gross WHAT IS THAT SMELL" you'll turn your head slowly to the left and discover an old sippy cup full of clabbered milk.
Then the time comes when the little rascal heads to preschool. Along with preschool comes the new challenge of getting a small yet strong willed individual to and from a specific location at a specific time. Typically by this point you have already reached the baby fever phase and have popped out yet another screaming, angry yet loving and cute individual. You slowly begin to find yourself in constant motion. Getting those two children in and out of the car with their crap in tow becomes a sweat inducing workout. Every morning you wake with the yearning for some coffee, a nice comfy couch, and a good book. Instead you get a screaming, toothing baby and a preschooler that insists on wearing his pants backwards to school. If and when you do get a chance to make yourself coffee you'll probably only get a sip or two before one of your children step on the ever so annoying land mine.
Now, when I speak of these land mines I am talking about those mini explosions that children tend to have starting at about a year old. The ones where the toy isn't working like it is suppose to, the cereal you just poured was the wrong kind, the second child is pulling the first child's hair or the preschooler can't manage to get his shoes on. These explosions that send a parent into the forefront of the battle. because remember, parenthood is a battle that you are constantly trying to survive.
Every parent, whether a stay at home or a work your bum off in the work force, is exhausted. Each parent has those days where the world is completely and utterly falling around them. A quiet drive alone in the car becomes comparable to a week long vacation on the beach. During this time mothers need each other. But often times when one reaches this point of extreme exhaustion, burnt out on giving, loving and caring, there is no where to turn but inward. The blame game begins. The punching bag is out and it looks so familiar. Why? Because it is you. You are punching yourself. Why does this happen?
I'll tell ya why. Because every mother thinks at some point that they are the worst mother in the world. When you finally do begin to vent to other mothers about your pain you are, often times than not, met with either advise on how to be a BETTER mother or told that it "gets worse when they are older." Why can't we stick together as mothers and let one another vent. Just stop talking while another mother is venting and give that mom a HUGE HUG! She needs it more than your words. Give that mother friendship. Stop comparing your parenting to hers or her way of dealing with motherhood stress to your way of dealing with it.
Us mothers need to stick together. We need to make a code of ethics within motherhood which states that no mother should make another mother feel lower by making motherhood out to be an easy endeavor when that mother comes to you to vent. No mother has EVERYTHING under control EVERY single day.
We can all sympathize with one another so why don't we? Stop the competition, the comparing and bring on the solidarity! Together we can make a world of difference.
(side note: it amazes me how many children there are between the three mothers that I get together with weekly. From the three of us there are 6 new people in the world. Our job is so important. We are truly changing the world. How we raise that child, love that child, discipline that child, affects the future. That's why I think mothers are AWESOME! And the caftiness of human making is way more important than any craft you will ever make.)