On Motherhood

Being a mother is bloody hard work. That’s a fact. Sometimes it’s such hard work you wonder why you do it. And it’s not like you get any appreciation from anyone for all the hard work you put in. I don’t just mean physical hard work, although there’s plenty of that. What I’m talking about is mental hard work. Dealing with whatever your children throw at you, from toddler temper tantrums to complicated teenage moods and emotions. Mothers, without any training, have to listen, advise, step back when necessary, know when to seek help, know when to just hug, and all the while dealing with the stresses and troubles of their own lives. Some mothers are lucky I guess and get support and appreciation for what they do, but a lot of mothers seem to get a raw deal. We cook, we clean, we wash clothes, we ferry children about, we dress them, clean them, feed them, make sure they’re healthy, help them with their homework, try not to explode at the constant refrain of “I’m bored!”, break up fights between siblings … and then at the end of the day we have to be able to be that listening ear for those problems that surface when they’re tired and emotional.

If that was all there was, motherhood would totally suck. Luckily we also get to experience that unconditional love for another human being that I don’t think can be truly experienced in any other way than through loving your child. There’s something primal and instinctive about it, something that makes it worth it. Despite the stress, the exhaustion, the unrelenting neediness, the worry, the fear that you’re doing it all wrong … if you offered me the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. I’d do it again in a flash. I wouldn’t be without my children. Without them I wouldn’t be the person I am today, and without them I wouldn’t be whole. Their existence is essential to me. They are the 2 very best things I have done in my life.