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Motherhood

Ok, so it's not brain surgery. And it's not rocket science. But it is so, so, so hard.

These are my undiluted thoughts on motherhood today.

It's too hard. I'm tired and it's relentless. I am sick and tired of physically bending over, picking up, carrying, restraining, fighting with and running after this baby. Sick of the constant whining, crying, and yelling. My nerves are shot because at any given moment they could begin a yelling or screaming assault that could last for God knows how long, usually as long as I don't give the cuddle, pick up or carry wanted.

I am sick of going to the shops with fear in my heart. Fear that at any given moment my little timebomb will explode and I will be stuck in public with all faces leering and sneering at me and my unruly child. I am sick of organising trips around sleep times. I hate the fact that if the trip encroaches into sleep time, said child becomes a yelling, screaming, red-faced maniac in the back seat.

I want to go out with no time constraints and pure freedom. I don't want to feel nervous when I go out without the baby, worried that he is distressed at home without me. I want to be free for a whole day and whole night.

I want to sleep all night long, without being woken rudlely by the cries coming from the other room. I don't want to stand beside the cot, half drugged with tiredness, cold and miserable, patting that butt to sleep. I want to sleep and wake when I want, naturally.

I want to eat without having to share my food, hide my glass, obscure the baby's view of my plate. I want to eat on the floor if I want without fear of being lunged at by the baby who wants my food.

I want to watch a whole movie uninterrupted. Want to cook a meal and enjoy it slowly. Want to drink copius amounts of wine without guilt.

I want to go out without having to lug the heavy pram, climb into the back of the small car, do up the straps, undo the straps, carry the shopping and the baby and the pram up and down the front steps. Fight the baby to get in the front door with the remaining groceries without them falling through the screendoor I am trying to open ever so slightly so I can get in!

I want to walk around my own house without being yelled at for leaving the room. I want to go to the toilet in peace... to just sit reading a magazine without someone yelling at me, pawing at my thighs and eventually trying to rip the toilet paper from the wall when I relent and pick them up.

Have you ever tried to poo with someone sitting on your lap?

It sucks.

I want to eat when I am hungry, not when I am 'allowed'. I want to go anywhere I want and do whatever I want and be home whenever I want.

But having said all that, I miss my baby, and wish my husband would bring him home so I can touch his soft skin and craddle him in my arms and see his eyes light up when he sees me... then I can begin the above all over again even though it is a Sunday because there are no days off, not even hours or minutes off....

this is the hardest job of all.