My husband and I have a friend we call The Professional Mom. She LOVES being a Mom. She is all aboutMom, all of the time. It’s like the day her first child was born she found her true calling in life, and she's never more happy than she is when she's taking care of her kids. And I kinda want to be like her, but here’s the truth: I can’t even begin to understand how she is like that. It’s so far away from the person I know to be me. The person I finally got to know after thirty years, is not completely fulfilled and totally satisfied by being a Mom. She's just not. She sure has tried to be, but somehow it is never enough. And sometimes, she feels a bit guilty about it.
I mean, why isn’t it enough for me to just be “Mom?” It's not like I don't adore my kids. In fact, I truly feel they are the three most special people I know. And I'm so glad I get to be around them every day. So, why am I not satisfied with loving and being loved by the three beings in the world most important to me? I mean, aren’t there a ton of women who have to work full time who would gladly trade places with a full-time homemaker like me? And what about single women, like my sister? It makes absolutely no sense to me that the woman who cooks, cleans and cares like some fearless combo of Giada and Catherine Booth has no one to do it for, while the girl who can barely bake anything is in charge of making dinner for four other people, five nights a week.
I wish I had an answer for you. And I wish I had an answer for me. In fact, sometimes I wish to be different. I wish the introverted, observant, analytical side would grow smaller, while the number one fan, cheerleader, fun-Mom side would grow bigger. But that's like an elf wishing to be Santa, it just ain't happenin'
So, that's who I am, and I can’t be any more honest. I want more. More than Motherhood. And I hope you don’t hate me for it.