What You've Always Wanted.

I consider myself someone who loves her children and appreciates motherhood as much as anyone. I am sure of that. I love staying home with Eleanor (even though that now includes working), and I relish in her meeting of milestones and the adorable nuances only I can know. But, as anyone with children will say, regardless of how wonderful you believe mothering to be, at certain times it is just plain hard. Babies are people, complete with personalities and complexities, and they are simply uncompromising in their demands. And yet, somehow there seems to be a societal disconnect - a deep schism that exists between some people with children at home and some without. Even myself. I spent much time begrudging people's complaints about the difficulties of child rearing. Thinking they just weren't appreciative enough, patient enough, loving enough, sensitive enough, amazed enough, etc. Now, I understand. But, maybe there is no communicating the fact that "this is all [you've] ever wanted", without ruling out your right to complain reasonably to people and for them to understand. I can say in all seriousness that this has been my dream since childhood, and something dancing just over the border of obsession for the last few years. Home with Eleanor is where I want to be. And, yet sometimes I'd like to reserve the right to complain. Is it the same with all major endeavors? If I were training for a marathon to fulfill a lifelong goal, would I forfeit the right to complain about sore muscles? If I were earning a PhD in rocket science, would I forfeit the right to complain about the difficulty of my studies? If I were hiking the Appalachian Trail when August rolled around, would I forfeit the right to occasionally slump to a seated position at the foot of a tree, rest my eyes for a few minutes and lament my exhaustion? If training to be an acrobat, would I forfeit my right to cry if I fell on my face or ass repeatedly every day? I guess maybe I would. If you are not a marathon runner, PhD candidate, August-Appalachian-Trail-hiker, mom, or acrobat, I guess you wouldn't understand. But, I can't imagine, should one of my friends, family members, or spouse complain to me about one of the above lamentations that I would shrug my shoulders, and through quizzical eyes query them that, "Isn't this all you've ever wanted?"

I want to verbally cut people to bits when they say things like that. Yes, dang it, it's what I want. But that doesn't mean it isn't the hardest thing I've ever done. It doesn't mean I don't miss my carefree life of showering, eating meals, having five minutes alone, talking to my husband, watching occasional movies, having money, or, heaven forbid, I complain that I miss teaching. I won't even "go" there. I am looking at Eleanor right now, sleeping peacefully next to me, and I know this is where I am meant to be. But, so help me, she is exhausting. You can love someone and acknowledge that they are exhausting, right? I mean, I love her and somehow her birth coincided with the most acute exhaustion of my life, so I think I can confidently say that she is lovely, wonderful, amazing, and perfectly exhausting.

I could go on and on with this diatribe, but I won't. Suffice to say, I am meant to be home with my Eleanor - she is truly my dream come true - but I am incomprehensibly tired.