My Children Bore Me

>> Oct 6, 2009

There, I've said it. It's out there, no taking it back now.

Oh sure, they can be cute and funny at times, irritating and argumentative (even the 1 year old in his way) at others and the look of pure innocence on their faces when sleeping is enough to make your heart melt, but they are not exactly mentally stimulating.

The endless repetition of the same games, the constant competitive vieing for attention between them if I am in the room, the whinging and whining, the fights and tantrums and mindless questions. Not to mention the constant drone of "mummy, mummy, look at me" from the eldest whilst she stands on one leg, or jumps up and down, or sticks her fingers up her nose. It makes me feel as though you are shedding IQ points by second.

It is at this point in a face to face conversation with other mums that you all usually smile, roll your eyes and say something like "yeah, but they are lovely" whilst making gooey eyes at the kids playing in the corner. The point where you retract any seriousness from the the previous conversation because heaven forbid anyone should think you were a less than perfect mother who found her children anything less than wonderful in every way. You do it automatically, you literally can not help yourself. Even if seconds before you were ready to give them away to the first person you saw in the street, as soon as you come anywhere near another mother your built in need to be better, or at the very least just as good, kicks in.

I guarantee that at some point everyday (that's daily not weekly like they would have you believe if they absolutely had to admit to it at all) every mother of young children feels exactly the same way. The problem is, even if we could get over the terror of being judged and found lacking by other mothers, we just don't remember long enough to tell you about it. It's true, mothers have the shortest memory of all living creatures.

Take us out of the house where our little darlings were making us climb the walls out of boredom/anger/frustration and put us somewhere in public where they are busily playing with other children, or new toys, or just happily doing anything we don't deem as immediately dangerous or likely to get us arrested or thrown out of the shop and we forget. We look at them and fill up with love and wonder all over again. We genuinely forgive and forget every irritating, stupid, and down right dangerous thing they had been doing just minutes before, forget how much we wanted to strangle them/sell them/murder them and bury them under the patio, and see only the cute little darlings in front of us.

It is another in-built thing that we are powerless to resist, along with forgetting how much labour actually hurts, in order to make sure the entire species isn't murdered in its bed by overly harassed or just plain bored of the whole motherhood thing, mothers.

So the next time you find yourself sneaking off to read your emails thirty seconds after vowing to sit down and play with your little ones for at least an hour, know that you are not alone. Not that any of us will admit it to you without censure, or remember long enough to tell you...
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