A love-hate relationship?

As I was preparing for another glorious day with my three darling children yesterday, a promo for a story on the Today Show caught my attention. They were doing a feature about a cover story entitled, "I love my children. I hate my life," which recently appeared in New York Magazine. Wow. Provocative. I quickly hit the DVR button and tuned in later.

Studies show, the story said, that many people become decidedly unhappier when they become parents. Furthermore, in a survey among moms, the majority ranked activities like napping, preparing food and housework as more pleasurable than childcare. Boy, do I get that. After tending to the boys' needs eight or nine hours a day, believe me, I'd rather do almost anything.

While I think saying that I "hate my life" is many shades too extreme to describe the way I feel day to day, I do understand where the writer is going with the story. As the psychologist in the piece pointed out, many people end up unhappy with parenting because of unrealistic expectations. Been there. Before Ben was born, I thought, sure I can give up a little sleep, no big deal. There was no way I could have prepared myself for the actual degree of sleep deprivation and the way it would feel. I was a 25-year-old first-time mom, and it felt utterly overwhelming.

Likewise, I had unrealistic expectations about being a stay-at-home mom. It was what I had always wanted to do in life. I pictured leading my kids in structured activities: crafts, story time, fun outings. Reality quickly set in on that one and soon I settled into the realization: holy crap, how am I going to fill a whole day every day? Staying at home with three kids often means trying to meet three diverse sets of needs all at once. This one needs more structured play, this one needs less. This one wants to spend every minute outside, these two would rather be inside. It's an almost non-stop barrage of requests and demands, most often not delivered in a sweet, polite tone of voice. It's a battle against boredom, theirs, and yes, I'll admit it, sometimes mine too. It's watching your house turn to a disorganized mess before your very eyes. Craft time is me keeping vigil over Gus to keep him from biting off crayon tips or eating Play-Doh. Sitting down for story time? Not so easy. As for the outings, it seems like someone is always unhappy. My youngest doesn't want to be in his stroller. My older two whine about not wanting to walk.

So that's the hard part. Lest I sound really miserable and ungrateful, let me say that with time has come acceptance that this simply is my life right now. My expectations are reasonable - most days. I see it as putting in my time right now for the benefits of later, when my kids are older and a little more independent. Yes, most moments of the day feel like pure work, but then there are sweet moments too, like nap time. So in conclusion, I've decided that I love my life. But maybe for my sake, just don't ask me at, say, 4:30 p.m. on a Tuesday.