It's ok if you work really hard towards something, and then sometimes you don't want it. At all.

Sometimes the universe has a way of throwing a message to you in a way only you would relate to it. Often, mine come in the form of a line or a movie quote I didn't notice before in something I've seen a million times, that all of a sudden literally speaks to me. I try to take these things seriously, even if they aren't always coming from the most serious of mediums.

Today's particular lesson came from an episode of How I Met Your Mother. Yep, you heard that right. Now before you go criticizing me for blogging about an admittedly comedic television show, it has it's moments. And today's random episode that I happen to catch had a doozie.

If you're unfamiliar with it, the plot is far too long to explain, nor is it really even relative to my point. All you need to know if that one of the main characters, Lily, is a new mom. And she says something out loud none of us dare to speak:

"Sometimes I don't want to be a mother."

She doesn't say it sarcastically, or with any humor. It's a straight forward statement with golden globe worthy tears in her eyes. And I thought, "Wow. Me too." Sometimes I lament for the days when I could go home and veg out on my couch until I decided to go to sleep, or for even when I had the desire to buy clothes for myself. Or mostly, when I had money. Not a lot of money, mind you, but some. Enough for those clothes and whatever movie we felt like seeing and going to eat out once a week or so. 

Why do we, as mothers, feel so ashamed to admit this out loud? As if saying a statement like that would magically take back every painstaking hour that we spent mothering our children? 

Well I ask you this: Do you think a doctor has never had a day where they thought, "I don't want to be a doctor?" Just because we work so hard for something doesn't mean we have to be all in all the time. 

Being a good mother isn't easy. We have to care. We have to care SO MUCH. About everything. About what they eat, and how much, what they're wearing, what they're saying, what they're picking up and putting in their mouths. We even have to care about their poop. Every mother can tell you exactly what kind of poop is "danger poop."

And caring is exhausting. And let's be honest, sometimes not rewarding. News flash, not every moment of motherhood is rewarding. So your kid felt a little warm, and you rightly took their temperature, and they had a very low grade fever. What do you want, a medal? No one is going to thank you for that. And in all honestly, they probably would have been fine carrying on with that fever for a while until it went away on it's own. Disheartening, I know.

Not to say the little things don't matter. They absolutely do. But they may only matter to us. And our children. And you may find yourself asking why you even bothered sometimes. 

But we carry on. Just like anyone does who is doing something they really believe in. So next time you just want to exclaim "Today I wish I wasn't a mother!" Please call me. I'll say, "Girl, I hear you." and then regale you with tales of what I found in my daughter's poop.

Happy Monday everyone!

Love,

Dominique