Mother’s Curse
Living with children is in itself a full time job, as with any job, there good days and bad days. Some days it becomes so completely overwhelming, I question my sanity in taking the job at all. Growing up, I remember my mother stating on what seemed a daily basis that she hoped “I had a child JUST like me when I grew up.” I secretly thought she was a little daft when she said such things, I mean who wouldn’t want to have a kid like me? But as my own family grew in size I found myself resenting my mother for burdening me with such a curse. I mean after all, she only had to deal with one of me; I got four “just like me.”
Being the mother of four very active and articulate boys seems to permeate every aspect of my being. There are times when I feel as if there is no space for me left in my world. I am quick to hitch a ride on the self pity train, and take a ride back to my pre-children life. Before kids (B.K.) my house was clean all the time, the food in the fridge stayed in the fridge until I ate it, and my things were always still right where I left them when I returned. B.K., my glassware and electronics actually had a life span of more than two hours and sometimes even lasted years. The only person who threw tantrums in my house was me. B.K., I could watch what I wanted on TV and listen to the music I liked. If I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t have to make dinner. No one disrupted my perfect space. I was in complete control. While riding the pity train, I tell myself how crazy it was to give all that up to live in the constant chaos that is family life. I long for the order and control that disintegrated a bit more with the arrival of each small boy. I fret over each and every observed affront to my carefully preserved memory of control. I resent my mother for wishing this mess on me. Didn’t she love me enough to spare me the pain she endured? I allow stress and frustration free reign and I find myself shouting “When you grow up I hope you have at least TWO just like you!!”
My boys are not fazed by the crazy ranting of their delusional mother. I somehow was luckier than my mom. My boys respond with humor mixed with empathy. They laugh and tell me maybe I will fare better with my grandkids and then remind me I have already made them promise to have daughters so their kids can’t be just like them. One of them will then declare me to be the most beautiful (patient, skinny, understanding etc.) mom ever and everyone laughs.
And just like that, I jump off the pity train. I suddenly realize that my mother’s curse was not a curse at all, it was a blessing. Instead of a spotless house, I now enjoy a happy home filled with the people I love. Instead of watching my choice of television shows, I watch my children change, grow and evolve on a daily basis. I exchanged order and control, for the chaos of love, laughter, and family. If my life is not perfect, it is closer than my whiny self deserves. These are exactly the things I hope for my children’s future. I do hope they are blessed enough to have children like themselves and, if they do, I truly hope they realize how very lucky they are.
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