Sometimes I Don't Want to Be a Mom

Sometimes I don't want to be a mom.

There. I said it.

Sometimes I just get tired of always being "on call," no days off, no sick days.

My days are filled with caring for a baby who has a lot of energy and has discovered she can get to just about any place in the house...really really fast. I can't take my eyes off her.

My afternoons are spent shuttling kids to lessons or helping them with homework.

Evenings are about making sure every one has been fed, and bathed, and gotten ready for bed.

At 8:30, all three of my kids go to bed. My husband and I dwell in the brief moment of silence, soaking in as much of it as we can. We know it will be short-lived. Because our 10-month-old will wake up between 10:30 and 11:00 for another feeding. Then she will probably wake up around 2:30 or 3:00 again needing help to go back to sleep. Sometimes we're lucky and she won't wake up again until 7:00. Sometimes we're not and she'll wake up one more time.

My oldest daughter sleepwalks.

Morning comes and I drag my sleep-deprived body out of bed motivated by the fact that the baby is on my bed, wide awake and excitedly crawling toward the cat at the end of the bed. Yes, this is almost an every morning occurrence. I don't know what motivates me more, fear that she's going to crawl off the edge of the bed or fear that she's going to pull out a huge chunk of my cat's hair, getting bit in the process. I can't remember the last time I woke up on my own, well-rested.

My son is like me. He hates getting up and likes to move slow in the morning. Not a great quality to have when you don't have a lot of time to get ready and leave the house on time. Almost every morning has something that challenges us from getting to school before the bell rings.

Every day is pretty much the same routine.

Weekends come. They should be a time for rest. Usually they aren't. With all five of us now home the energy level in the house skyrockets. It's our opportunity to get the house back in order after the busy week. The kids don't hide their disapproval of this.

My son likes to be really loud. He thinks it's funny. The baby likes to copy his loud noises. All
three kids think this is funny. Dad and I don't.

The kids argue. Sometimes with each other. Sometimes with me.

And sometimes...well...I just don't want to be a mom.

I collapse on the couch. I pretend there are no kids around me. I do the math in my head. How many years left do I have of this?

Then, my oldest daughter sees me and snuggles up beside me. "You're the best mom, ever, " she says and snuggles in deeper.

As I put my arm around her, I notice movement on the floor. The baby is crawling toward me at warp speed. A huge smile is lighting up her face. She reaches the couch, pulls herself up and tries to pull herself up onto the couch to join us.

"Hi goofball, " I say. "You want up, too?" I swing her up and now I have my two girls beside me.

A moment later, the front door opens and in bursts my son. "Mom! Mom!" he says. "I have something for you!" He rushes over to the couch and opens his hand. Inside is a sparkly rock. "I found this rock and wanted to give it to you," he explains.

He crawls up on the couch so that I can have a closer look.

I smile. My three beautiful children are near. And I love each of them so very much.

The best part of being a mom is moments like these. Moments when my kids remind me of the bigger picture. When they take me out of my selfish pity party and point out how full my life is with these little lives in mine. I'm humbled by how much they love me and feel ashamed at how quickly I forgot.

Sometimes being a mom is tiring, and overwhelming, and hard. But I wouldn't change being one for the world!

Instead, I think I'll set up an appointment for a massage.