Resisting Motherhood

By A.M. Stewart

Can I just admit to you there are some moments and possibly days I do not like being a mother.  Yikes! I know … I’ve said the words no mother is ‘suppose’ to say.  But I did it. There it is. Now that we’ve established some honesty here, I’m going to take it further.

There are even times I have to bite my lip so hard not to scream profanities running wild in my brain while my toddler son is hitting me repeatedly waiting in the check out line at Sam’s. 

Sometimes it takes every tiny inch of my will power not to hit my child.  Did I just say that?

Yes, well, I am in the camp that does not believe hitting actually helps – I believe the opposite, actually.  Don’t worry this isn’t leading up to a lecture where I spew off statistics about the harm in harming your child.  I’ll respect you enough to let you decide what you think is best when rearing your own child.

Back to the point, I resist being a mother. But just for this moment.  Maybe even just for today.

Yes … I resist the notion that I have to locate Buzz Lightyear again for the 5^th time today.  I resist the laundry. The dishes. The constant coaxing to be buckled into a carseat.  I resist the looks people give me when my son runs free and wild down isles of books in the Library.  I resist trying to make my high-energy toddler sit through story time, grasping at his waist, desperately trying to convince him THIS IS a fun time. I resist cleaning the pee out of our bed and off the floor and then off the couch.

I resist being a mother today.

I resist the tantrums. The kicking. The hitting. The constant making of food. I resist, even, the sound of a voice saying, “Mommy.” I resist exhaustion and reading books about snakes. I resist it ALL.

I resist being a mother today.

I resist saying all day long, “Can you please use your words?” “Please put that back” and “”We need to wait our turn.”  I resist my accelerated heart rate when an inconsolable child cannot be consoled while riding in the car. I resist the feeling of resistance. I resist it ALL.

I resist being a mother today.

And when the day is over, my resistance soon disappears.  Like those one-day parking-lot carnivals I’d seen up North, all of a sudden missing like it never once existed. Like it was all in my head. 

When my resistance is all tired out from a long day of resisting, contentment soon takes its place. And all of the things I once resisted are somehow fine. Then I remember this gift and pleasure. Then I remember its ok to resist things sometimes too - even being a mother.

And luckily I remember, this life isn’t so serious in the end.