I read an article today about mothers who started taking small doses of magic mushrooms just to be with their kids. I don’t remember the exact words. But it was bubbling over with phrases like, “it actually makes me enjoy playing with them” and “I’m more alert and more awake” when I do.
At first, the very idea of a mother taking care of children whilst on Class A drugs is abhorrent. But believe you me, load up even the most perfect of Moms with a glass of Chardonnay and she’ll readily spill the beans on how ghastly it is being a self-made slave to tiny humans.
In fact, mothers have been using crutches to get through raising kids (and cleaning up after them) for centuries. In the fifties, Valium was branded as “Mother’s little helper.”
Being a Mother Isn’t as Fun as it Sounds
Back then, it was perfectly ok to be tranquilized while attending to your brood. Today, just loading up the grocery cart with diapers, wipes, and a crate of red wine provokes raised eyebrows.
The fact is that running around after small children is hard. Even if they go to school or daycare.
There’s a reason people who look after kids for a living call it a “job.” But mothers are simply meant to enjoy it.
Let me set one thing straight. There is nothing enjoyable, entertaining, or vaguely humorous about a determined toddler with a pair of scissors.
I love my children. And I fully I concede that it’s my fault they’re here.
But there isn’t a single mother who can say in all honesty that she enjoys the agonizing process of feeding and bathing after a long day at work…
Unless she’s on shrooms of course.
Women Are Set Up for Failure
In a society where women are supposed to work like they don’t have children and raise children like they don’t work, we’re pretty much set up for failure.
I finish most days feeling frustrated and cheated. Some younger, freer journalist has the time to break the news while I have to contend with a toilet roll clogging the bathroom.
If only it stopped there…
Failure is a double-edged sword.
I’ve been named and shamed in the mommy nursery WhatsApp group by the moms who think it’s “fun” to arrange special gifts for the teachers or make the kids dress up differently every other day.
I shudder to think how deep the scars will run in my kids who attended school without the necessary props and face paints each day.
I wrongly assumed that I paid daycare to help me work, not put more on my plate.
But my 18 month-year-old comes home with homework.
HOMEWORK because the teachers think making papier mache objects at home is a fun family activity.
I’d love to tell my clients that I’m too busy creating works of art, but I have to pay the damn school fees.
Let she who is without sin cast the first stone
I saw a post on Facebook the other day and it plagued my mind ever since.
“There is no such thing as difficult children,” it said. “What is difficult is growing up in a time when parents are tired, busy, impatient, and in a hurry.”
That was another great pick-me-up after losing yet another client while watching my “not difficult” child howl at the top of her voice because the cafe didn’t have pink straws.
She’s thrown herself on the floor (and even smacked her head against it) in many an airport, shopping center, and restaurant.
Great to know that all this time, it was my fault for being too busy.
Hand Me the Shrooms
Maybe loads of women were born for this. Some of them just have the mothering gene (or maybe a troop of servants that can take the edge off).
But for the working mom, single mom, or with no extended family to help mom, reminding me how much I suck on every level is of no help at all.
Yeah, I’m tired, busy, have no concentration or patience. I probably shouldn’t be a mother at all. But I am. And we have quite a lot of years to get through.
So, maybe somebody should hand me the shrooms?
Featured image from Pixabay.