Woes of motherhood

So, recently, I started chatting up with this young mother I just met. A consultant, like me; and as usual, we moms started discussing what a challenge it is to work and manage kids.

As the discussion went on, I had this sudden epiphany that she was nothing like me.

It started with her gushing on about her four and two yearolds, and how she could never forget the beauty of giving birth. I pretended, genuinely pretended, to “Awwww” at that remark. Instead my treacherous mouth lined into a snigger; birthing, beautiful!

They must’ve pumped you with enough morphine to last a lifetime.

But of course, I only thought that, didn’t say it. I am a nice person, you know!

And then she started speaking about her parenting philosophy that included rules like no junk food, and only 30 minutes of TV time in a week.

Wow, seriously!

My kids would devour me, literally, roll around my neck and squeeze hard like the biggest anaconda, until I either die of asphyxiation or give into TV time.

And yes, a huge part of my family’s daily diet includes indispensable stuff like ready to eat noodles, chips, cookies and lots of cheetos.

So, after an hour of appropriate nods, and completely dishonest phrases like “I know, right?!” “TV is such a freakin nuisance…” “OMG I do that too!” I said my goodbyes to her, while muttering under my breath, “I hope your car flips over, bitch.”

However, this encounter got me thinking, how much do I really enjoy motherhood?

Lets see seriously, it is “Not” the greatest job in the world. There are so many things about motherhood that I do not agree with.

For example: You know how every woman says that popping a child out of her womb was the happiest, most joyful moment in her life. It’s bullshit, I tell you….bulllllshittt!

How can labor of anywhere between 10 to 40 hours, where every 30 seconds you bear unimaginable pain, be the most joyful moment of your life?

And guess what, it doesn’t end there, it is followed by at least a year of sleepless nights, sleepless days, and a complete transformation from a young nubile woman to a misshapen ghost. Oh and dark circles, are best experienced in motherhood.

So yes, I have been a mom for seven years now, and guess what, in the last seven years, there have only been five or six such occasions where I have been able to dwell in my bath for more than fifteen minutes.

My standard five minute time to poop is usually interrupted enough times with my kids, banging, scratching, pushing or generally whining at the bathroom door.

Toilet paper is the most in demand commodity in my house. Over the years I have come to believe that my kids don’t use it, they consume it…like candy.

Let’s not forget being judged; especially by these pesky non-parents who seem to believe they have their parenting philosophy down to a “T”.

When my son greets them with a, “Hi”, they make a face and respond with “Good morning Siddharth!”. Should I tell them that they are the chosen ones, my son actually bothered to raise his head from the iPad, while he was in midst of Shark Attack? Honestly, I don’t get that special kind of treatment with my kids, unless they want me to buy something. Sometimes, not even then.

But of course, you pesky non-parents would not get that. You would judge me for using the iPad as a convenient nanny. Well, judge all you want, you would thank smart phone and tablet manufacturers when you join the motherhood bandwagon.

Oh and let’s talk about those unrealistically perfect mother’s who give no junk food to their kids and limit recreational/TV viewing hours to 30 minutes a day….or a week, like the woman who inspired me to write this piece. I want to ask them something, seriously, don’t you have a life?!

Don’t you want to do really important and meaningful stuff while your child is glued to the TV? For example: Bitch about your mother in law to your best friend, or discuss that annoyingly perfect mom at school, who is always prim, wears Versace and carries Louis Vitton. Hell, even her child’s school bag is a Tommy.

Perhaps, the most annoying part about motherhood are the grandparents. They seem to know exactly what needs to be done and when. As if they themselves, have raised perfect specimen of mankind. Case in point, yours truly!

If you think motherhood is scary by now, you haven’t experienced the scariest part yet. When finally after 2 years you visit a club with friends or spouse, only because the grandparents grudgingly agreed to babysit your monsters. You will see a bunch of 17 something girls drunk, falling all over the place, a bunch of 17 something boys, running around carrying 2 of these drunk girls in each arm and there would be whispers of ecstasy and LSD.

Your heart would stop, your eyes would be wide, and you will promise yourself that next month you are moving to a convent with your kids and never looking back.

So yes, I am a mother:

My house will never be spotless, it will be rife with toys. So watch your step.

I know you are very affectionate towards my children, but if you wake them, you take them.

I will always be tired, and if I am taking a nap, don’t you dare wake me, lest you want to experience the fire-breathing dragon.

I will whip up a meal in half an hour; it will not be gourmet, it will not be healthy either. But you better not make a face.

And finally, bear in mind, if you say a single un-savoury word about my kids, your ex-girlfriend/stalker would be the least of your problems.

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