Real Mothering

I wanna freak out. I am so fuckin tired I wish I could put the children in their room with a box of cerael and shut the door and lock it. I hate that I have to function. I attempt to be calm while speaking to the children for fear of one crack in my facade and I will become my own mother who ran after us with the wire end of a fly swatter. I feed them, get them drinks, and pretend I am giving a shit to what they have to say. When in reality all I am doing is allowing them to blow off enough steam so they will take a nap early. So here is the life of a real mother, not the fake variety that you meet in the grocery store all smiles and sunshine. The life of a real mother is filled with disgust at snot, shit and spit. The life of a real mother is tolerance with the acceptance that life will not always be happiness. The life of a true mother is strength beyond her imagination and the ability to see that at the end of this roller coaster ride, if done right, will be the love of those children she at one time wanted to stick in the bedroom and lock the door but didn't!