Am I the only one....

We've all seen the movies or tv shows where the mother is so loving and her children adore her.  Everything is perfect.  All rainbows and butterflies.  In our minds, that's the way it's gonna be.  The babies will always smell like baby wash.  The will always want to nestle into your neck and sleep.  They will always want your permission to do something.  They will always run and hug you if they are afraid or need reassurance.  They will never talk back.  That's in our minds.  The reality of it is that it isn't always that way.  Not at all.  At least not for me and maybe I'm the only one who feels this way.

Let me start by saying that I love my children.  I can't imagine what I would be without them.  Well, I can, but it's not a life that I really want.  They can be loving, generous, sweet, and thoughtful.  But in the next breath, they can be hateful, spiteful, ugly, and just plain old assholes....to one another.  It's those days, which I might add, are almost every day, that I would rather sit in my office at work and find something else to do.  Anything that would keep me from having to go home.  Is that normal?  Really?  Is it normal to want to keep driving instead of going home, because you know that the moment you walk into the door, you are gonna have to face a jillion questions, arguing nonstop, housework, homework, and cooking and to be honest, well, a Motel 6 is looking better and better. 

As soon as those thoughts pop into my head, I start thinking, "Jennay, you are a terrible, terrible mother.  There are thousands of women who would give their left breast to have the family that you have."  I really do beat myself up over it, but the feelings don't stop.  So then, I'm left with those thoughts, plus the feeling of guilt from having those thoughts.  It makes me wonder if my own mom thought the same things.  I can't ask her because she died from cancer.  Then if I wonder if my mother in law ever had those thoughts, but all I ever heard her talk about was the joy she had in raising her boys.  And now she's passed and I couldn't ask her, even if she were alive for fear that she would smack me upside the head and say, "what the hell are you thinking?" 

Of course, these thoughts are something that I would NEVER let my children know I was thinking them.  I had a father who reminded me all the time that I was a nuisance, that he didn't care for who I was, and constantly spoke to me and treated me like I was nothing.  I strive my best to not let that cycle continue, because God knows that man damaged me and I don't want to do that to my kids.  But still, I wonder if my kiddos can sense it.  And if they can, then I'm really not breaking the cycle.  And great, another thing to worry about.  I so don't want to screw them up, like me.

So there I am, still parked in the garage, not getting out of the car, mustering up the courage to get out and walk in to the house to see if my evening is going to be better than my morning was.  I grab my purse, walk in the door, greeted by hugs and "Mom, look what I drew at school today." and "Mom, I made an A on the math test I was worried about."  Okay, maybe today is the day with the GOOD thoughts.  Motel 6 can hold my reservation for another day, I reckon.