Yay! Another post from Lexi that complains about being a mother! Woooo! Did I tell you I’m writing a book? I am. It’s going to be the anti-every book you’ve read about motherhood book. Mostly because I just read a book about how being a mom is supposed to be the greatest thing every minute of every day and I’m still trying to get that taste out of my mouth (it tastes like bile and bisquick and anger).

You don’t have to love it.  You don’t. Today I was trying to play with Abby. I looked at her and said, “I could not be more bored than I am right now”

She smiled and slowly toppled over. Then giggled. And I marveled at how in love with her I am.

My thoughts exactly.

Still though, really really bored of being a mom. And you know freaking what? It’s okay. It’s okay to get bored of it. It gets OLD. It doesn’t mean you’re any less of a mom or a person. It just means that you’re being honest with yourself (unless  you’re one of those almost-mythical beasts that LOVES being a mom. I know a few of you. You’re like the unicorns who love breastfeeding…I know you exist, but I will never EVER understand your ways).  Just don’t be honest with your kids. Do what our parents did. Hide. Send them out on playdates. Let them roam the forests (or if you were me growing up, a fast moving canal where they found several mutilated bodies). I’m pretty sure they’ll end up as well adjusted, if not better, than the kids with the helicopters for parents.  Just don’t tell them until it’s too late how freaking hard it is. They’ll never procreate. And you want grandchildren, right?

 Do you know those kids? I know a few. They have zero muscle tone or pigment to their skin. They end up living with you forever.  Don’t do that.

There’s a happy medium between neglect and helicopterness. You can find that place. OR- be like me, and function just right of neglect. Either way, give yourself a break about not feeling so overjoyed to clean the same floors over and over again, wipe the same butts, and scream at the same loud neighbor kid. We don’t have to love something to be good at it. I was awesome at selling satelite systems over the phone when I was 17. In fact, I sold more per hour than any other employee- and I absolutely hated every second of it.

You can love your coworkers (mine don’t actually “work”) and hate the job. Or strongly dislike it some days. It’s FINE.  You can be awesome at cleaning those toilets, but wish that you never had to. And you can be more in love with your kids than you ever could have dreamed and die a little inside every time you have to make yet another batch of mac n’ cheese.  I’m just saying.  (I ended with that because it makes everything I say “cool with you”, right?)