The answer is: yes.
Is it fucking exhausting? Also yes.
There are zero things in life comparable to being 8 months pregnant, with a toddler, while working full time.
Actually, there are zero things in life comparable to working and raising a toddler. Pregnancy doesn’t really change that, just makes you more tired and 100x more likely to tell someone to shut the fuck up.
Often, parents work between 40-60 hours a week to provide for their children. These numbers only increase if you are doing it alone, or have more than one child. Let me just say that I would never accept a position as a stay at home mother, because well, I appreciate my sanity, and my ability to see other people besides my tiny burrito. (No offense to her, but it’s really nice to hear something else in the English language besides “Hi, bye,” or “mum.”)
Sometimes, working this many hours in a week is a little unrealistic for some people. If you’re one of those people making it through with a part time work week, all I have to say is: fuck you.
To those parents working like slave drivers: I commend you. I’m out here doing the same thing. (Well, I was, until I was put on bed rest.)
To those people asking if we ever see our children: we do. And it makes us cherish all of those repetitive phrases, smelly shits, and those nights when our kids just don’t want to sleep.
We work hard so or children never have to understand what it’s like to go without. We work hard so we can put food in their growing stomachs, a roof over their head, and be able to give them whatever fucking trendy toy hit the shelves at Walmart this week.
The bottom line is this:
We aren‘t perfect parents, but we sure try to be. The last thing I want my daughter to think is that I failed her – though, it does happen, she gets rather pissed if I don’t give her another cookie after she’s eaten 6. (In her eyes, I’m the worst mother alive.)
No one gives those people who work their faces off to support themselves and their child nearly enough credit – being that I’m one of these people, I just want to say: we are trying.
It’s incredibly difficult after working a 10, or 11 hour day, to come home and still have to function, because well, you’re a parent and you have no other choice. It’s hard to work day in and out and not want to plan your funeral on your days off. There are parks to visit, animals to pet, shopping to do – get it together, mom.
Sometimes, I can almost feel the judgmental faces from people when they ask what’s on my agenda for my day off with tiny human creature, and all I can say is, “we‘ve decided it‘s a lazy–pajama–day“, not everyone is the fucking hulk, especially not me. So, don’t be pissed I plan to spend my day snuggling with my little girl, rewatching The Mother Goose Club Playhouse for the 89th time.
Go somewhere else to brag about how you did 7 loads of laundry, cleaned your entire house, and cooked dinner, Sally, us mothers who worked and died all week: we prefer it this way.