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Do you hate being a mother so much?

08.29.08 | motherhood | 48 Comments

No, Dick. I hate being a stay-at-home mother SO MUCH. Sometimes. Right now. On bad days. In the morning. In the afternoon. Every time but nap-time. In an apartment. When the dishes need doing. When the kids are cranky. When I am unappreciated. When I feel guilty. When I want to write. When I want to read. When I want to go to the bathroom by my freakin’ self. When it is what defines me.

Dick goes in for a colonoscopy today. I think I’ve just gotten back at him for criticizing my “mothering” and “homemaking” and “cooking” skills this morning. Since he is on a sad, sad liquid diet in anticipation, and not feeling so well, he is “working” from home today, and wants to know why I am sitting at my computer laughing when the kids are Crying! Yelling for Pancakes! Bleeding from the Knees!

How much time do you have, Dick?

Crying! Yelling for Pancakes! Bleeding from the Knees! This is my life, and sometimes I want to shave my head, strip off all my clothes, and run screaming onto I-15. In rush hour. Which is conveniently scheduled for both the early morning I HATE WAKING UP hour and the 5 o’clock WHERE’S YOUR FATHER hour.

So I asked him — Do you hate being a father so much? Because I don’t see you getting out of your chair to dry the tears, make the pancakes, get the bandaids. Oh, I forgot. You are WORKING.

And I must get back to my life.

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