In an average month sickness or late nights at work kept me away perhaps three times. The other twenty-seven (or twenty-eight, or twenty-five, or twenty-six) days found me there for at least an hour and quite frequently for closer to three.
The stress slid off my shoulders six feet outside the door. By the time I’d shown my card, grabbed a towel (the towels always smelled reassuringly of heat and bleach) and punched in the code to the locker room, I had no recollection of the annoyances which had seemed so vast just moments before. Far from stopping me, the omnipresent scent of Hot Man pulled me in to the weight room, where I’d spend a blissful half-hour surrounded by specimen my friend and I affectionately dubbed “The Bigs,” focused on nothing more taxing that making a block of steel go up and then come down without a clang. This was followed by an hour of step aerobics,1 leaving me as happy and calm as a medicated clam.
Additionally, three days a week I practiced punching and kicking (and getting punched and getting kicked), a workout more grueling than anything that could be dished out in weight room or aerobics studio. If none of those options were available (and sometimes even if they were) I walked in the open air, occasionally ticking off as many as thirty miles in a single week.
That might have been excessive, no?
Out of the corner of my eye I observed my co-steppers and -lifters and -kickers and -walkers; I particularly noticed the ones who weren’t moving at my same speed. Invariably they were the ones weighted down with strollers and surrounded by a roiling cloud of children. Often I caught the hint of a suggestion of annoyance on their faces as they wrangled their offspring or sat impassive on the sidelines. I’m ashamed to say that I pitied them. However do they manage to get any time to come to the gym on their own, I wondered, then quickly thrust away the thought as the only conceivable answer was too horrifying to bear.
Eventually biology nudged me; it suggested that I could churn out my own tiny replicants and in the process not lose myself. “Those parents weren’t very good at managing their time,” I smugly thought. “Of course I’ll do better.” And when I had but one child, I did. I maintained my martial arts training and weight lifting, and when I took walks it was with the added cardiovascular challenge of a fully tricked-out stroller. But then arrived child number two, then hard on the heels of an impending divorce came child number three, and neither finances nor the clock permitted the extravagance of my past workouts.
These days I’m lucky if I can squeeze a few crunches into a schedule that’s increasingly overrun with the social, academic and athletic demands of my children. Has this taken a toll upon my formerly rock-hard waistline and super-powerful thighs? Oh hell yeah. Even worse it’s taken a toll upon my psyche as is evidenced by the fact that while registering my three children for three sessions of back-to-back swim lessons during which I was interrupted by said children no less than a number equal to the sum total of aforementioned individual classes,2 and despite having not, against all odds, forgotten how to add, I lost my motherfucking shit over the final bill.3
All that money spend on my children, who will frolic joyously in the pool while I stew and glower from the sidelines, dry of body, baleful of spirit and empty of checkbook, feeling nothing but the most shameful resentment toward the small souls who are entrusted to my care.
It is not a happy thing to admit to resenting one’s offspring, but I have to imagine that I’m not the first to feel such an emotion. Nevertheless, I recall no mention of this phenomena in my longstanding and painfully close research into what to expect from parenthood.
I’m not the first, am I?
No, you’re not the first, or the only. i promise.
Also, incidentally, i hated the “What to Expect” books, because really, they weren’t all that helpful at all. Perhaps to someone who has never encountered a pregnant woman or small children from a personal standpoint (i.e. had no friend or family members with kids, nor babysat at all), but for anyone with a modicum of experience with kids, and pregnancy, the books were a complete waste.
Now Dr Sears’ books? Awesome at any level of parenting knowledge.
It gets better: when your boy is 14 and and on the high school wrestling team, and you’ve got the whole family enrolled in karate classes (but the eldest daughter prefers to skulk on the sidelines with her phone texting) he’ll be whispering words of encouragement (“Come on, Mom, you can do these! They’re easy!”) as you find yourself failing to bang out a dozen burpees at the same speed as the instructor. I love my kid. :)
Burpees! I fucken hate burpees!
You’re definitely not the first and assuredly not the only.
You aren’t the first. I was 23 with a toddler when I got divorced. Prior to that, I could afford both the expense and time of high impact step aerobics three evenings per week while his father *babysat*. That was my *me* time. Even though the gym offered child care, it cost more than the aerobics classes. Add that to the sheer exhaustion of single parenthood working two jobs, and the word resentful didn’t even come close. My fitness routine dropped like a hot rock.
Hindsight being what it is, I might have tried harder to organize a child care co-op. As the airlines tell us, “Put your own mask on before assisting others”. While I didn’t understand that the first dozen times I heard it, it makes perfect sense now. How can you take care of others if you can’t breathe yourself?
Perhaps you could work something out with a neighbor or friend to switch off child care duties, if nothing else to mall-walk or run a local track for an hour 2 or 3 evenings per week? It might help you release some of those negative feelings, and it won’t cost anything!
Hang in there, darlin’.
Absolutely not alone. Imagine having a nice household income, one that would allow for a good amount of travel and leisure, but constantly worrying about money because of medical expenses. And imagine not having the time to persue what you really want because after work and carting your child to four therapy appointments a week and numerous doctor’s appointments there is little time and less energy.
And then there’s the inevitable guilt because it’s not the child’s fault. It just is.
Having bore my first offspring at the tender age of 19, and being completely unprepared for the realities of parenthood, I’ve struggled often with resentment. While my friends ran off on thrilling road trips, traveled hither and yon, or spent hours maintaining their un-ruined bodies, I stayed home with my younglings and wallowed in the depths of self-pity.
It’s one of those things that most mothers are hesitant to talk about, so I heaved a sigh of relief while I read your words.
I’m glad I’m not the first, or only, either. Thank you.
Oh, hell no. Our eldest blew the opportunity for a full scholarship (1590 SAT, multiple academic competition medals, but not even a B average because he wouldn’t turn in homework) and I said, “College is on your own, son. I have plenty of $40k/year hobbies I’d like to pursue myself before I can see entertaining you on a college campus.” Dang, if the kid didn’t turn around and find a perfectly good school to give him a full ride! But meanwhile, the other 3 kids are sucking up time and money on orthodontia, counseling, music lessons and instruments, after school care when I travel, etc.
The kids returned to school yesterday and for the first time in over a decade, no live-in au pair. After a nice long workout but before hitting my desk, I hung around the house totally nude for a good while and remembered “pre-kids” being able to do that all the time. (If it weren’t for the occasional webex with camera, I’d work that way!) Simple things I didn’t even remember how much I missed.
“Put your own mask on first.” How telling. Please tell me why we moms (and dads) struggle to put our kids in all these activities and stew on the sidelines? What example are we setting? “Enjoy it now guys cause being a grown up’s a bitch. ” “Being a grown up means putting others first AALLL the time and EVERY time.” “Having kids is a burden and though everyone should want to, it’s not all that much fun.” Hyperbolized examples these may be, they are still along the lines of what kids take away unconsciously when they see us doing such. It’s really okay to say no. It’s really okay to make them pick one activity and stick to it to the end (nothing makes me nuttier than when a friend tells me how their son/daughter quit X activity after 3 sessions cause it was too hard/boring/different/silly/not what they want to do after all) . Heck no. If I sign up one of my children to something they are going to stick through it to the bitter end. Next year they don’t have to but this year they finish what they started. And take the me them. It doesn’t have to be the expensive step areobics classes. You can just go in the basement or your room and step up onto a stool for an hour to music (no offence to those who do it, and I get that it’s better in a group and all but where’s there’s a desire there’s a means). That’s your me time. If’ it’s 1/2 hour before dinner and they have to read a book or *gasp* watch tv for that 1/2 to amuse themselves (when old enough of course) so be it. But take it. Else when they grow up, they’ll be the ones being martyrs and sighing on the sidelines and trust me it looks a lot different when you see your child doing it (My eldest is 29 with 4 and a divorce pending.
holy smokes, sorry for the typos, when I get on a roll, I get on a roll. As I meant to finish with: When you see your child doing as you taught her it’s hard to see. Ask me how I know.
Bree
You are correct about this, and it’s why we pretty much ONLY do the one activity. :)
I did the overboard over compensate thing with my kids because of the divorce and being the *absent* parent. Every second of the times I had with them had to be chockful o fun and it nearly bankrupted me and my new spouse.
Finally though, we came to realize that what we did was better if we did it all together and things got easier. I still see some of my coworkers scrambling to this that or the other activity and bemoaning their loss of self and time to do for themselves.
I’m glad that I wasn’t the only one resenting it at time, but also glad I got it together. My eldest tried to do the be all things to all her children all the time and it was over compensation too.
Funny how guilt has this ability to perpetuate through the best of motivations isn’t it?
Bree
The things you feel are not only true but common. When our daughter was little we, of course, were relatively impecunious which leads to frustrations. After all, who can afford the time or the money for all the things you wish for your offspring and also the things you wish for yourself? You already know where the priorities go. Later, some of the best things are both free and priceless.
There was the time when I was changing my grandson’s diaper, cleaning the shit off his ass when I became conscious of my daughter looking over my shoulder critically. “What the fuck you looking at?” I asked. She dissolved into laughter and the three of us ended up laughing to beat the band. Even though my little man wasn’t sure what he was laughing at, he was happy to be in the midst of happiness.
You have a lot of happiness, AAG, to look forward to. From what I’ve read on your blog over the last few difficult years, you are doing a fabulous job. Keep your eyes on the horizon. My thoughts are with you.
They always tell you just how hard it is, but no one wants to listen. I listened and decided it wasn’t for me for so very many reasons (Some genetic) But I respect all of you who do it. It is just insulting to be called selfish for not having kids. I love kids, they are so much fun, but I’m tied of being judged for not having any. Sometimes making the responsible choice is hard. You don’t have to be a parent to be part of a childs life. Just remember…there are people who would give anything to have your problems.
Get inventive girl! C’mon. Do you really have to go to a high-powered gym to get the body you once had? Does doing so have to exempt your kids? I know many families center themselves around the children’s activities, but centering their lives around what benefits the whole family shows the children they have a greater stake in your lives as a whole. They don’t all have to do swimming at once. If finances are flippin’ you out, and you don’t have room in your budget for you-time, who are you doing the greater disservice to? When you do have time to yourself, are you using it how you’d best like to? It’s kinda funny you feeling resentful about activities you signed them up for. *poke-poke-nudge* You probably already said all this to yourself, and that resentful moment a fleeting speck in time. *smiles* Thanks for sharing your humanity with us.
No, you are not the first, nor the ‘only’. I couldn’t even read the comments, but I know exactly how you feel. It is OKAY, you are OKAY and doing an exemplary job as being a juggling single mom. You are awesome & I wish I were as cool as you!
Hang in there, darlin, you are raising some awesome kiddos!