March 15, 2003
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Battles.
(conversation)
Me: "So Mousey, what would you like for your birthday?"(March 20th)
Mouse: "I would like a Barbie."
Me: "Mummy doesn't like Barbie."
Her: (thinking hard) "I like Barbie."
Me: "But Mummy doesn't like Barbie. Would you like a tent to play in and sleep in and pretend in?"
Her: "Can it be a Barbie tent? With Barbie on it? And pink like Barbie with sparkles??? And flowers????"
Me: "Mummy doesn't like Barbie. What cake would you like?"
Her: "Can I have a Barbie cake? And she would be on it and say Happy Birthday to Me and be so pretty.
Me: "What about a Fairy Cake? Mummy doesn't like Barbie."
Her: But WHY?????"
Me: (thinking) do I tell her that I don't like Barbie because she has impossible body proportions, only cares about marrying Ken and because there are no Barbie Brain Surgeons or Barbie Astrophysicists just Barbie Hair Stylists and Barbie Flight Attendants? "Because she's yucky. That's why."
Her: (thinking hard) "But I like Barbie. I would like a Barbie cake, and Barbie sweeties and a Barbie with real hair and I could brush it and take her to the movies and I would love her very much."
So endeth Feminism 101.
And I've been thinking I really don't 'do' children very well. My hub has been great - he takes the kidlets out for a jaunt on the weekends and takes an (admittedly minor) interest in spelling me on the night feeds twice a week.
But really, it's all seeming like years and years of endless drudgery. My days are filled with laundry, cleaning, cooking, picking up, kissing booboos, cleaning up poop, wiping up spills, wiping asses, feeding baby, feeding toddler, dressing and changing various warm bodies, coping with a 5 hour screaming jag at the end of the day, getting up to feed, getting up to soothe toddlers who are having nightmares... and frankly, I think I suck at it.
I know I don't like it very much. I know, when I was younger and imagined my life, I wasn't dealing with being puked on, or shat on or cooking some godawful boring dinner one-handed while cradling baby and having the world's most boring conversation about whether Elmo is a boy or a girl. And if he IS a girl, why doesn't he wear dresses and what do you mean all girls don't have to wear dresses....
I had the revolutionary thought yesterday, (at 8pm when the baby had been crying on and off for 3 hours with her regular attack of colic), that I wanted to run away. But what about leaving Hub with the kids? What about the damage it would do to the kids psyches?
I didn't care. For the first time since I became a mother, I didn't give a rats. I just want to be somewhere where someone isn't plucking at my sleeve every 10 minutes, where I am not on edge waiting for the next scream fest, where I am not the only person in the house who knows where he left his wallet, and where my 'time off' doesn't consist of sleeping or housework.
I used to be fun. I used to be interesting. I could debate anyone on anything. I used to be able to talk intelligently about 19th century literature and I loved it. I could quote Shakespeare and Milton and John Donne.
I went to art galleries for fun. I went to museums for fun. I went to the Opera, I went to rock concerts (not pop, rock - like say... Live or Metallica), and I went to jazz clubs and looked mysteriously smoky and beautiful to men in expensive suits.
I used to dance on tables at parties. I cold bust a move better than most white chicks born. People wanted to hang out with me, I made them laugh till they cried.
And yeah, I know that most of this is superfical shit, and a better and more balanced person would be eternally grateful for the chance to affect new lives and raise wonderful human beings, but all of that superfical shit was ME. And I miss it.
So what am I going to do?
I am going to be a responsible mother, be the dull grey person I have become, and go see my doctor and tell him I think I am beginning to suffer post-natal depression. And he'll medicate me so all the loss and the loneliness will be stifled and I can go on living my boring grey colourless life, endlessly wiping up and cleaning. And be a good mother to my children.
I won't be running away. FUCK.
Comments (26)
I'm sorry, Stress.
It won't be this way forever, I promise. It feels like it now, but you will wake up one day and those babies and toddlers will be in school and growing up so fast it scares you. These early days are the gray part - the rainbow is coming.
Get your doc to write you a prescription for time off & have your hubby fill it (or a babysitter). I didn't hear you say whether or not you are a stay-at-home mom or also work. I'm assuming stay-at-home??? Sometimes I think stay-at-home moms have it harder, psychologically. No time away from the kids at all can be a huge depressant. Everyone needs a good, regular break. It helps fill your tanks for the road ahead. Find a way, it's certainly important enough
Hey! I love your writing. Hope you don't mind me reading your blog.
I was in your place about a two years ago. I was miserable and thought I'd be happier if I left (and I was never cool enough to dance on tables) and also that my kids would be better off without me-but I knew I'd be a bad mom if I left them but my son was being an ass all the time and my baby had unending colic so I must be a bad mom and they'd be better off without me but how could I leave my kids but I had to get away from them... -and my brain ran around that groove all day long. I seriously started considering hiding in the closet just to get away from them for awhile.
And then my mom came to visit and gave me the verbal equivalent of a good shaking and told me to get the hell out of the house for awhile. It helped. You need time to do things that make you happy- like sleep. But also read and have coffee with a friend, see a stupid movie or even just go for a walk- and all of that without your kids. It will make you feel better than prozac would, and you'll like your kids again. Also- if you haven't read it- you should read The Mother Trip. That book helped me through my post partum nervous breakdown. It's about mamahood and depression.
Ah honey, I'm sorry. I think it's part of the cycle. Anti-D's do help....and it all gets better about the time your youngest starts going to preschool (find a nice monstersorri) full time. Or, barring, that...about the time the youngest is 4 or 5.
love you.
Have you been reading my mind again, Stress? Much love to you.
Hello,
I have been reading whatever you have written for the last year and some. I haven't commented very often but felt prompted to do so today.
There are many sides to any single person. Part of being mysterious is not to reveal all your loves at once. You aren't really different just allowing other talents to grow.
How much sexier can a woman be than the woman who learns to juggle all the responsibilities life requires. To paraphrase a song I like, for every season turn turn turn....... It's ok to master one event in our lives at a time.
You can still be the "superficial" side and still have a deeper side also. I am sorry today you are feeling the labor of every footstep on the journey of life. Take heart that the next oasis may be just around the corner. The nice thing about family is that you don't have to walk alone.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I am sorry and I know, I know.
It doesn't stay that way, cold comfort though it might seem. I have only one admittedly, but the boy is company now and often inspiring, glorious, and hilarious as he was once mucky and gooey and horrible - I know that feeling where you're drowning in the primeval chthonic swamp and feeling less than human. I know. The person you were is not gone for ever; she's just dormant; really -hard as that might seem to believe. It lightens, it does. Truly.
xxx again.
You know, if you would have told the girl right off that yes, she can have a Barbie, the rest of the conversation would have gone way different!
I, too, opposed Barbie and all she stood for. I also started seeing that the more I opposed her and made her contraband, the more my girl wanted one! So, I did the only thing I could do: I bought her three.
She played with them for about a week. Now, they sit, hair chopped, missing appendages, moldy at the bottom of my girl's bathtub.
Barbie in no way fits in her top 100 list of favorite things to occupy her time.
oh, and I wanted to add that, yes, like others mentioned: you're normal. Shit, I'd worry about you more being a "good mom" if you didn't have these thoughts.
Later, it gets so much easier to reclaim who you want to be. Don't dwell too much on who you "were" - everyone changes and thank the lordy they do! You can recreate your image any way you want.
Barbies suck. Sometimes being a mom sucks. But you, my mama, rock.
Not much of a consolation prize, but I don't think of you as dull or grey *huggles*. I think you are a brave and honest woman who actually speaks what she thinks and feels. Something not seen often enough in this world of ours *huggles again*
Poor kids. They either get commercial crap shoved down their throats or our personal crap. No wonder being a child is so difficult today.
Poor parents. Damed if they do and damed if they don't. Let the world raise your child and you end up being responsible for the misfit they create. Do it yourself and you end up being responsible for the misfit you create.
well, of course this could be my blog. it has been my blog, and i have no reason to think it won't be my blog again and again.
sometimes, beign the mommy sucks big dirty ass. and an hour or a weekend away from the monsters only makes you more desperate to run away, becuase a taste of freedom can be a cruel fucking thing. a good night's sleep only reminds you how damn dog tired you are.
i don't have any answers, and i remain unconvinced that it actually does get better. but hey, i've been wrong before, so...
but if you decide to take off, swing by my house and get me, okay?
you can always run here if need be. Then mouse and bug can play with barbies till they collapse:) Bug is now in the habit of having her barbies be jane goodall, it is actually pretty cool. love love love you
We have a regularly scheduled babysitter (girl from church) that comes every Friday. Even if all we do is go to the shed (our 30 x 40 craft room/automobile repair/storage/whatever building) and organize crafts for a few hours, it is a few hours WITHOUT CHILDREN. Knowing someone else is responsible, and can call us if she freaks out. Shoot, we even go out to dinner on occasion when we can afford it. If we can't, we still cough up the money for the sitter, and go to the shed. She probably thinks we're crazy, but she only has them a few hours once a week. I have them all the rest of the time. The shed is a wonderful place to be.
*hugs* and it gets better. I've even gotten my husband to agree to watch the kids one night a week while I go be an adult and bowl on a league. OMG, did she say bowling? Yes, I did. I interact with adults, get exercise, have normal conversations, other adults cheer for me, pure ME. It's all about ME. I need one night a week away from the kids AND my husband too. I can't wait.
My son wants a Barbie too and I think I'm a bad feminist because I haven't bought one for him.
so did you give in to the Barbie cake or what?
Here are some props for you! Love your blog, good continuation!
Hi, baby, it's me. And you are in there and you know we have all been there and you have been there before and you have pulled out of it and you will pull out of it again, and I love you very much. If you run away, send me your address and I'll meet you there.
The more you fight it, the worse it gets. So I have learned, anyway...
I wish I had something wise to say, but we both know there is nothing to say, really, that will make it better. Time will pass, they will grow, things will get easier.
Give her the frickin' Barbie (I hate barbie, too...). I'm serious. You should see the haircuts that bean subjects hers to. It's priceless.
Love you, more.
B COMPLEX VITAMINS - still see the doc, but hey, this warding of post-natal with pickle after having had it with peanut...
You're a great mum. I don't think you'd find a single one of us who hasn't at some time thought - fuck it. I'm just not taking the turnoff to my street, I'm going to keep going and I'll wind up in Vancouver and I'll work on the ski patrol to feed myself - goretex is pretty durable and unlike my suits it doesn't need drycleaning right? right? Yep, I know where you're coming from.
Love you.
crap - meant to say the B complex vitamins warded off post-natal...SLEEP DEPRIVED and still have to make 6 "pew cones" before I go to bed (DON"T ASK!!!)!
I miss you, stressmaglite.
thank you so much,stress.i am really new here,and so far-you are the only one who has discribed your life the way i see mine.i am going to have my hubby read your last blog,because i have been trying to discribe this to him for months now.
from one gray person to another,thank you!
Your post rocks momma butt, stress. I'm new to the ring and glad to find other intelligent moms out there who can tell it like it is, which is pretty damn dark and cruel sometimes.
It's cliché, but it *does* get better. My kids are 5 and 8 now and freedom does rear its finely chiseled head again when they get older. I remember well the early days with my son, when my daughter was 3 and 1/2 and thinking something was wrong with me, I couldn't take it, how come so many people have *two* children and make it look so easy, I just want to lie in the dark and drink beer and listen to Pulp.
They key is, while you are forming this whole new facet to yourself, don't lose yourself in the process. You may be zonk-ass tired but drag your butt out to a concert (after pumping for 4 days straight and freezing to get enough for one measly bottle... if that is the way you are feeding... bf, I mean)... rock yourself stupid, and do it regularly enough that you don't feel like you're playing pretend at it while you're wrapping yourself in a gauze of guilt. There should be no guilt.
Thanks for the truth. It helps to know people out there are realistic about things and not putting some kind of spit-polish on their perfect Gap-clad lives.
You are so _anything_ but dull and gray! You have an amazing way of making our lives on this planet seem like they are all linked. You know we are all here with you in the dull and gray. but you're peeking out a little! I see you!
You are so _anything_ but dull and gray! You have an amazing way of making our lives on this planet seem like they are all linked. You know we are all here with you in the dull and gray. but you're peeking out a little! I see you!
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