Just a little rant. . .

It’s been a while. But I’ve got something to say and this is quite likely the best place to say it.

I wish to GOD that people would stop posting all those melodramatic posts about what it means to be a mother.

Don’t get me wrong – I know being a mom is a tough (tuff) job – but come on people! It’s not like you’re working in the salt mines or digging ditches in 100 degree heat all day!

The tone of all these posts that get circulated on the internet is that somehow being a mother is akin to being in shackles and that there is absolutely no respite or appreciation or compensation for the job.

I call bullshit!

I don’t get why all these women who wanted a home and family are now so bent on getting attention and recognition for their ‘sacrifices’.  It wasn’t a sacrifice — it was a choice. A choice women since the dawn of time have made. And they made it knowing that it would change their lives. Mostly for the better.

Despite all the mewling and whining and ‘woe-is-me’ out there, I believe most women who have been mothers or are mothers just get on with the job of being mom. That includes being wife, housecleaner and chief bottle washer. They get up each morning with a smile and greet their families without the marks of self-flaggelation upon their backs.

You don’t see a gazillion weepy-penned articles or posts about what it means to be a dad.  If all these women crying the blues think they’ve got it so bad, think they’re so under-appreciated and under-valued, why don’t they try being the dad for awhile. Gain a little perspective, then talk about sacrifice.

I was a mom. I loved it. Not every day did I love it, but 93% of the time I have to say, I completely loved my job. To me, it was the most important thing I could ever do in my life. Raising a child, teaching him, guiding him, providing for him. I chose that, no one forced me into it.

I was lucky, I had a husband who worked full time while I stayed home. Occasionally I worked at a part-time job when we wanted extra money for holidays or some big purchase. But mostly, I got to be at home – a place I took pride in, a place I felt blessed to have, a place I knew was my responsibility to keep clean and maintain as a trade-off for being a stay-at-home wife and mother.

I don’t get how the women in these posts and articles feel they need all this validation. They’re constantly bemoaning the fact hat their husbands come home and question them about what they did all day when they walk in the door to chaos and no supper. Well, I question that, too.

What the hell are they doing all day? Surfing Pinterest for the next great birthday theme so that they can impress all the other whiny-mommies? Or, perhaps it’s searching for butt and ab exercise routines that can be done in under 20 minutes? No, more than likely it’s for smoothie recipes to help them lose weight.

And, if it’s not Pinterest, then they’re probably on FaceBook or Twitter or just texting to complain about how hard their little lives are. Meanwhile their kids are being ignored, the house is a mess and they don’t get why their husbands are  no longer attracted to them.

It’s time for women to stop acting like martyrs. Time for them to step up, do their job, and do it well. Time for them to stop begging on social medial for respect and acknowledgement. Nobody, except movies stars and athletes, gets to do that.

You’re a mom — get used to it.


What memories are made of

The blog I checked out today:   http://divycorner.wordpress.com/2010/08/17/him-i-envy.  I really applaud Andy Pag for his efforts, but as I commented  on the blog, I really don’t think they’ll have much impact.  Even so, I give him credit for trying.

Me and my pumpkins on a train ride

Well, I didn’t get to go camping.  The frigging rain and wind stopped that.  But, we had fun, anyway.  We went swimming, and spent the day at Harvest Days, Bon Accord’s yearly summer fair/ball tournament.  It’s pretty rinky-dink, but the little ones like the noise and candy and different-ness of it all.  I learned that it’s damn near impossible to eat hotdogs in gale-force winds — that was frustrating beyond belief!  Other than that, though it was a pretty good time.  We kept the kids up late to watch the fireworks.  Listening to them ooh and aah was so worth it.

I spent yesterday putting my house back together.  The kitchen had been transformed into a ‘rock store’ — all my napkins had been unfolded and spread out over the wall unit and cabinets and littered with the shiny coloured rocks (glass blobs and marbles that I use in my flower vases).  They put them in bowls, colanders, and inside cups.  Some I stepped on.  Ouch!  I should have taken a picture, but didn’t think of it until after I had it all cleaned up.  So now, I’ll just have to keep that memory tucked in my heart.

It was funny, cleaning up made me remember how I used to clean up after Landon had gone to bed each night — the picking up of toys, the stepping on Lego, the finding bits of things stashed here and there.  Sometimes it was a chore, but mostly I enjoyed it.  Seeing all the ‘mess’ reminded me of his day, his laughter, his questions and queries, his temper if things didn’t quite go the way he wished.  It also reminded me that I had fun, too.

Don’t go thinking that I was Mom of the Year or anything if you’re reading the above — I had plenty of days where my reality was anything other than idyllic — but, for the most part I loved being a Mom.  As I’ve said plenty of times before it was the best and most important thing I ever did in my life.  Admittedly, I wasn’t always great at it, but that in no way takes away from what it meant to me, still means to me.

But being a grandma is a whole other ball of wax.  I love this, too!  I get to have all the fun and really, very little of the responsibility.  Our days are filled with what will we do today? Not, what do I have to do today?  I can buy the little boxes of cereal for breakfast — you know the ones that cost way too much but are fun to eat because they’re little and usually laced with sugar?  I know, bad grandma!  So what! It’s once in a blue moon.

One of my favorite memories of this past weekend (there are lots) was me and Timmy sitting at the kitchen table, him eating a toasted peanut butter sandwich, me a toasted tomato sandwich and just talking.  I can’t remember what we were talking about, only that he kept telling me how much he liked peanut butter and that he really wished we could go camping.  He was leaned halfway across the table and was looking at me so earnestly with those big blue eyes of his.  When we were done he asked if we were going back to the ‘hooray’.  That’s what he called the fair, because that morning we’d been to the parade and he couldn’t say parade.  Adorable.

I’ve had a pretty terrific summer and last weekend put the capper on it.  Hope yours has been a good one, too.