This week I spent a few days capturing the frustration of childhood. So often our social media presence is filtered and makes me think that everyone else (but us) has perfect kids.
While I think I err on the side of self deprecating humor, or even complaining in this space (it's my go to venting mechanism), what I have always promised myself from day one is to expose all angles of my pregnancy and motherhood. The saccharine *and* the sinister.
I'm not here to prove I've got it all figured out. I'm not here to lay claim to doing it "right" or pretending to make it sound like being a working mom and having 3 kids is the way to go. Or that it's easy. What it is--is fulfilling. Full. And incredibly filling. And sometimes, it's so filling, you feel bloated like after a great Turkey Day dinner. Yeah, sometimes you gorge so much on the good, you get sick.
Looking back, of course I want to remember and focus on the fun and revelry we have as a family. But I also want to etch in my memory those moments of pain and vulnerability.
My children are strong willed. Obstinate. Opinionated. And sometimes downright turds. Sometimes...wait for it...I don't like them. Rather, I don't like being around them. I think about it like "if I was your friend, I would not want to be in the room with you." But I unconditionally, unequivocally love these boys. Let's get that straight.
And I'm not sure what it says about me as a human and mother, but even in my boys' angst, there is such beauty. Dare I admit that the images below are some of my recent favorites. These images evoke what happens a lot to my little boys--frustration.
Frustration that Mommy is covered in salmonella-y cookie dough and can't pick me up and nurse my teething mouth into submission.
Mommy told me that it was time to stop playing with the homemade GAK in preparation for my daily bath.
Frustration that Mommy told me that 1 enormous cinnamon bagel was enough for a snack.