When you realize you've given into mommy-martyrdom... and you don't like it.

   I have three wonderful children. I am totally in love with my kids. I feel so blessed that I get to be their momma. And I also resent the hell out of the fact that my life now revolves around them. 

   There.  I said it. I am a bad mother.

I wasn’t ever going to be this woman. I wasn’t going to be a mommy-martyr. I had dreams once. Okay, so my “dreams” tended to be a bit vague, but I knew there were things I wanted for myself. Not because they were necessary, or expected, but just because it was what I wanted. Imagine the audacity!

   I was in a school a few years ago. I genuinely had no clue where I was planning on going with it all; which, of course, is the first thing anybody asks you when they find out you’re in school. “So, what are you planning on doing with your degree?” Because, you know, the only point of education is to get a career that makes lots of money, right? It’s not like education has any sort of intrinsic value on its own. I am one of those totally geeky people that genuinely likes learning. I like school. I crave knowledge. Sit me in a lecture hall, or place me in a seminar and educate me, man!

   Now, when there was only one kiddo, school was fairly manageable. He was in a great daycare, which made things so much easier. One was easy to manage. When the second came along and I tried to make it work I totally and completely failed. It was just too damn hard. You would think when kids are older it would be easier. My oldest was in school, shouldn’t that make things less stressful? Nope.  When they get older they start having a schedule you have to work around. They’ve got places they need to be and you have to get them there. It sucks having to pass on taking a class you really want to take, or even need to take, because it conflicts with your kid’s school schedule. Sure, there’s after school programs, but add that cost onto tuition, books, daycare. Holy shit! Not to mention how hard it is to come home and try to read two hundred pages each night and write essay upon essay when you have kids to feed, a house to clean, laundry to wash… you get the picture.

   So, I decided to “take a break” from school. I told myself it was just a short hiatus until things became more manageable. Of course, I then added another kid into the mix, so it then became an extended hiatus. Now I am beginning to feel as if I will never go back. Things aren’t getting less chaotic, if anything they are only getting more so the older my kids get. Seriously, folks, babies and toddlers lead much simpler lives than older kids. I tell myself I’m okay with it. This was my choice, after all. No one made me give up school. I decided it was too much. I decided. And I resent the hell out of that decision.

   Every start of a new semester I spend about a week seriously depressed. But no matter how sad I am, I can’t justify going back right now. It still would not work. Not to mention that I feel guilty for being there if there’s not some distinct end game I’m working towards. It’s not enough to just be going to school because you want to be, you have to have some illustrious career at the end of it to justify what you’re doing. 

   I am a stay-at-home mom. I am so by choice. I don’t think it is exactly my first choice though. It is sort of the only realistic option at this point. I can’t be a student, the full-time parent, and the housekeeper all at once. I couldn’t hack it. Which makes me feel like a total loser because there are so many parents who do. There are lots of people who go to school and work and have kids and they manage to do it all. I couldn’t. I hate that I have to admit that. I tried. I failed. I wanted to, but the stress of trying to do it all was leading to me having anxiety attacks three times a day and losing an insane amount of weight due to stress (twenty-five pounds in two months is not healthy!).

   So here I am, succumbed to mommy-martyrdom. Most days I am just fine. I really do love being with my kids. I love that my being home full-time allows them to do things that if I were not home would be impossible. Here’s the thing though - the thing that nobody really tells you or that you don’t fully understand until you’ve been there: being a stay-at-home parent is painfully lonely. Having conversations with a toddler all day can really start to make you lose your mind. Not having time for a social life kind of sucks. Although, I’m not exactly the most social person anyways- people sort of annoy me- but still, it would be nice to know I could be sociable if I wanted to be.

   I get a little sad every time I drive by the university (which is several times a day because I live down the road and there is no way to avoid it). I get into these sort of funks where I feel the need to distract myself from all this crap, so I get really, really absorbed in a book. Any readers out there will know what I’m talking about. You get so caught up in a story that you have to stay up until three a.m. and just read one more chapter. You dream about it, you think about it all day, you are totally lost in another world, another existence. Yep. Book binges are my escape. However, after the binge ends and the story is over there’s sort of this sad empty feeling afterwards. You feel a little lost in your own world. That’s when the effects of mommy-martyrdom are the hardest.

   Wait a second; this isn’t the life I ordered! Oh wait, it is. I just forgot what it looked like.