Disinterested Crybabies Are Boring

An article I read in Saturday's Globe and Mail provided the motivation I needed to sit and write a post I had been mulling over for a while.

Entitled ‘Motherhood is Boring’, and written by a blogger some of you enjoy, the piece brought to light a dirty little secret that apparently many mothers share, and apparently, is cause for celebration.

Hailed as the new wave of feminists for their outspoken honesty, these mothers can’t stand doing the things that are associated with, well, mothering. Outings to the park? Tedious. Family movies? Not without her PDA, she doesn’t. Conversation with her child? Better prep her for a lobotomy first. A craft or creative activity with her little girl? Nuh-uh. She’d way rather be blotto with her single, ‘free’ friends.

I didn’t think I could be more impressed, until one woman clarified that it is not, in fact, the things that she must do with her kids that she finds boring; it is actually the kids themselves. She says that her children bore her to death.

On the flipside, many mothers, the article says, do not feel this way. In the article, these mothers are represented by a picture of June Cleaver with the Beav. I guess moms that find their kids interesting and the job not just so much brainless drivel are old-fashioned do-gooder automatons.
And the moms that out-and-out disagree with these ‘heroes?’ well, they are just martyrs, or (this is clever) ‘sanctimommies.’ And just to be super-clear, the impression is given that bored = intelligent. I suppose that’s true, given all the lobotomized mothers you see out there, interacting with their children.

So what conclusion does this bring me to about myself as a mother? I realize that I belong to the school of ‘What Did You Expect?’ parenting.

I got pregnant at age 29. I am middle-class, educated, well-traveled and, I dare say, intelligent – like all these bored, bored, bored mothers profess to being.

I had some idea, at least a little, of what I was in for.

Chris always remarked during my pregnancy that, despite some of the (common) aches, pains and discomforts, I was handling it like a trooper.

Well, I said, I’m growing a person. It’s a tough job. What did I expect?

I had my baby at home because I believe in, and wanted, a ‘natural’ birth. Yes, there was pain. Yes, it seemed like it went on forever. Yes, I needed stitches. Yes, recovery is tough. A melon-sized head just came out of a grape-sized hole – what else did I expect?

(Oh, and Ms Scheduled C-Section Author? Don’t be making ‘like the pain of natural childbirth’ similes ‘round me.)

My child needs me to do pretty much everything for her. Well, she started off as a ball of mush and 15 months later still has trouble remaining upright. What else could I have possibly expected?

I am pretty much always tired. I have gone for days without showering. I have been puked on, shit on, spit on, bitten, kicked, pinched, poked, I have read ‘Goodnight Moon’ 8000 times but can barely get through a magazine article in one sitting. I have not worn a decent bra in 15 months, and my childless friends don’t call as often as they used to. Sometimes motherhood is really, really hard. I feel like I am making a lot of sacrifices.
Yes, yes, YES! WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DID I EXPECT WOULD HAPPEN WHEN I HAD A BABY?

I am not managing an inconvenience. I am raising a child.

She is a child that brings me joy. I do my best to bring her joy. I want her to grow up feeling secure; feeling loved; feeling important. She is worth that. She deserves that. Every single child does, regardless of how under-stimulated his or her mother feels.

And I implore these mothers: if this truly is how you feel, please, please don’t have any more children.

And I ask these mothers – these intelligent, worldly, educated mothers: Just what, exactly, did you expect?


Edit:
Lots of mamas are writing about this on their own posts, which I am enjoying reading. In the essence of not spamming everyone's comments when I have my own soundboard over here, I'll just add a point that I didn't originally make here:
Too bad that the moms in the article are more into bitching about boredom than enjoying the happiness that these often tedious activities bring to their children.

And no, I have never been bored being a mom. I do certain things because I am duty-bound, and not because they are riveting, but bored? Not so much.