And that bothers me. Don't get me wrong - I love my son more than words can possibly express. Being a mom, however, is not turning out the way I envisioned it. I don't know what, exactly, I envisioned. Probably the "perfect mom" who bakes cookies, does crafts and colors with her child; who is always put together and full of highly creative daily activites. You know - the Donna Reed type. Not that I don't ever do these things but they certainly don't come easily. At all. Whenever I read an article, status update, tweet, etc. that says, "I love being a mom," it hurts. Because I can't honestly say that. I am convinced, though, that someday I will.
I have a difficult child: a speech delayed, strong willed, quick tempered, impatient two year old (yeah, I know: what two year old isn't impatient?). It's not his fault, of course, that I don't enjoy motherhood but his temperment tests my patience (of which I had little to begin with). Add that to my dangerous habit of idealizing everything - imagining too perfect scenarios about motherhood, holidays, life - and it's a recipe for disaster. Oh, and did I mention that I compare myself, as a mother, to everyone? Not healthy.
Is it remnants of postpartum depression? Probably. I take comfort in realizing that things ARE better. Every now and then I do have that "perfect" day where, for at least a while, I can say "I enjoy being a mom today."
I don't think this makes me a bad mother. (Ok, some days I do think that but overall I know that's not true.) I know that the most important thing is that I love my son unconditionally and I do everything I am capable of to make him happy. No one ever said motherhood was easy. In fact, I think we've all heard the phrase, "the toughest job you'll ever love." Sometimes it takes a while to get into the groove of a new job. I have a lifetime to figure it out.
And yet . . . .
I think I want to do this again.
Call me crazy.