Mommyshame

Dear Mommy Martyrs: Enough With The Bitching

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Maybe I just live in Dullsville, USA, but I keep seeing the boring mom drudgery everywhere I go. Granted, it’s also splashed all over my Facebook newsfeed, so it may not be distinct to my small corner of Texas.

What am I talking about? Here it is in a nutshell: “Oh, me? I haven’t been out to a nice dinner in ages because the kids keep me so busy.” Yuk yuk yuk.

Or how about? “I think the last time I saw a movie Avatar was playing, if that tells you anything!” *Commence knee-slapping and chuckling.

Since when did it become cool to be a mommy martyr? I don’t know about you, but I really like going out in public. We waited until my first son was about a month old before we forced him on my in-laws with a very long and detailed list. Sure, they were kind of freaked out by the whole thing, but they figured it out. Sink or swim, right?

Since when did it become cool to be a mommy martyr? I don’t know about you, but I really like going out in public. We waited until my first son was about a month old before we forced him on my in-laws with a very long and detailed list. Sure, they were kind of freaked out by the whole thing, but they figured it out. Sink or swim, right?

Since then, we’ve always had monthly babysitting because my in-laws live about 45 minutes away. Whenever they’re not available, we set aside cash for a babysitter because it really is that important to go out in public and be a normal person from time to time—just like paying your cable bill. (A necessary luxury, dammit!)

I do feel that I understand the mind of the mommy martyr. You may feel like your life is no longer your own. You may feel really guilty for complaining about the awesome, healthy children that God gave you who also happen to scream in unison when they don’t get popsicles after dinner.

So how else are you supposed to express your frustration in a healthy way that doesn’t scar your kids for life? You can dive right in to mom drudgery and make sure that everyone knows about all the hard work you do.

As I describe this thought process, I promise I’m not judging. It’s something I can relate to as I do chore after chore after chore and pick up 12 dozen Lego toys and blocks every day at 7 PM when I put the kids to bed. (Just a shout out to my husband because he helps with all of this too! A “daddy martyr,” if you will.)

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