Loving Every Minute of it...

I had a few minutes recently to read a few new blogs I'd stumbled upon. It's always fun to see what other moms are up to, but for me, there's also something , well, unsettling about it. The truth is, reading other moms blogs sometimes causes me to question my own experience. It causes me to wonder if I'm doing something wrong. It makes me think maybe I should finally get that script for xanax.

Because, the thing is, so many moms who blog about motherhood just love.every.single.minute.of.it.


I've written before, of course, about how I most definitely don't love every single minute. I love being a mom. I love my life. I am grateful for every day. But love every minute?

Nope. Sure don't.

Don't get me wrong. There are lots of things about motherhood that I love. Earlier this week, I loved N's first day of school. I loved that we had time to do her hair in the pig tails she so desperately wanted, and that she had her new back pack that she was so excited about, and I loved that, as she got on the bus, she just looked happy.  I loved B's first boat ride yesterday. I loved that he smiled the whole time, and I loved that when we stopped and he looked like he might be a little sea sick, he just looked at Jimmy and said "Why did you stop, Dad? Go! We need to go FAST!." I love that O still wants to climb onto my lap five times a day, and I love that he still lets me give him as many kisses as I want.

And although I don't love every minute of motherhood, it has caused me to love other things more than I otherwise would have. I  love every minute that I get to be in the bathroom by myself. I love every minute that I get to talk to a grown up on the phone (although in truth, this usually only lasts about one minute). And when I get the chance, I love every drop of my margarita.

I think this loving every minute thing bothers me, though,  because well, I have to wonder what planet these moms are living on.

Do they really love every minute that they're feeding a newborn, when they haven't had more than two hours of sleep a night for over a month? Do they love every minute of those ten diaper changes a day? What about dragging a tantruming two year old through the grocery store, trying to prioritize between appropriate discipline and getting the groceries you need? Do they love every moment of that?

B has been waking up at six am every morning this week, growling at his brother until he cries. Yes, I said growling. I realize this may sound funny, but trust me, at six in the morning, a growling four year old and a screaming two year old really isn't that funny.

And I don't love every minute of it.

I often think about a lady I met in the grocery store when B was a baby. She told me she had four boys--all now grown with kids of their own--and not a single one of them ever gave her an ounce of trouble.

Really? Not a single one? Not an ounce? Ever?

Maybe it depends on your definition of trouble. Maybe, as long as her sons didn't end up in jail, or rehab, or sleeping in her basement when they were forty, she really didn't think they'd given her any trouble.

Maybe its all in how you look at it.

Maybe the moms who love every minute of it just look at things differently. Maybe in reality, they mean "I hate that I am up to my elbows in poop for the third time today, but I wouldn't trade a moment with my child for anything".

That, I can get.

Because I wouldn't trade a moment of it, either.

Even the moments I don't love.

Like when I have to change my four year old's diaper. Or when my two year old decides he's no longer sleeping through the night. Or when when my seven-year-old knows  thinks that she knows more than I do.

I don't love those moments.

But I wouldn't trade them for anything.

I still won't claim to love every moment, because that's just not my reality.

But I also won't claim to love every moment because, somewhere, there's a mom out there who's also not loving every moment, and she needs to know this:

It's OK.

You don't have to love every moment.

And it's OK to admit it.