This a rant by the Cuddler.
I'm going to say what I think most working moms are thinking or feeling. If not, disregard. Whoever said you could have it all, never tried to be good at it all. There. I've said it. The cat is out of the bag. All you bright eyed girls listen up.
Growing up we are told that we can be whatever we want to be. However, when you decide at 18 that what you want to be is a engineer [can also be substituted with accountant, lawyer, public relations guru, doctor whatever] and then at 30 you realize all you REALLY want to be a mom, you have a problem. See by 30, you have accumulated some astronomical student loan debt (um, private law school) or you married for love and not money (JR drove an 88 Tempo with no air or radio when we started dating. He was not, however, old enough to legally drive.) or whatnot, then you know what you have to do. You have to put on your big girl panties and get on with the balancing act and lean on friends because your husband is just not going to get it.
Since when does a mother have to do it all and be perfect at EVERYTHING? It is exhausting. We have to be successful in our careers, have picture perfect children, our homes extravagant and tidy, our marriage happy and romantic, oh, and I forget we are suppose to be skinny and pretty too. How can you be skinny and pretty when you are sleep deprived, your kid keeps hiding your hair straighter, and there is not time to exercise? When you figure it out let me know. You better make some choices and prioritize.
Through all of this, if you are lucky, you have friends that help you get through the day. They listen to your sob stories. They email you back while at work and tell you that they are willing to take a hit out the kid who bit your baby yesterday. You have friends that-even though they are struggling with infertility-love your baby because they love you and you love your baby. Transitive property. You have friends with babies that eat pancakes on Saturday with you in name of play date even though neither kid even looks at the other. So thank you to all of my supportive friends. You know who you are.
In the name of choices, I'm going to make breakfast so some friends can come over. The guys can watch college game day and the boys can ignore each other. There is some dog hair on our floor (I really LOVE my dogs and no John Hinton is not allergic to dogs.), it looks like babiesrus threw up in our living room, there is laundry piled our our bedroom, I didn't make our bed, and I don't care.
Love, an exhausted, happy, and honest Cuddler