Guardians, female, unpaid
As a mother, you're always the ass!
There is a job in which you can always do everything wrong: legal guardian, female. This is sometimes very annoying, often annoying, but can generally be very liberating.
by Viola Kaiser
"You get so much back," mothers like to say with a sigh. Somehow that's probably true, but I don't notice that much about 363 days a year. Unless we're talking about paper trash, cheeky comments, unlimited non-existent willingness to cooperate or unfiltered criticism. Gratitude? Nothing. For example, when I cook something for everyone – and nobody likes what I have produced with loving devotion on the stove. Or if the laundry is only thrown carelessly on the floor instead of putting it in the washing machine or at least turning it right side out. Or when I vacuum, wipe or sweep away the dirt of everyone else who lives there with me and calls themselves family for what feels like the 1000th time a day.
The job as a mother requires a high degree of patience and commitment. It's badly (well, actually not at all) paid and really demanding. for 24 hours. As a mother, you're always the ass. Everyone who has a child knows that. Sometimes you just want to hit your head on the tabletop several times in a row and scream "What am I doing here? !!!" And sometimes, sometimes the little ones are so adorable that you forget the effort, they kiss you and say nice things. Yes, sometimes they even say thank you. But that rarely happens.
Why always be over-correct?
Regardless of the fact that you are usually not only criticized by the children, but also by husbands, educators, teachers, other mothers, your own parents, strangers on the street and so on and so forth. The list is endless. The other day I was talking to my friend Laura about exactly this topic and towards the end of the conversation I just groaned: "How to do it, you do it wrong!" However, a lightning bolt occurred to me afterwards, which distracted me from all the grumbling. If I almost never do something right anyway, then that gives me infinite freedom. Why always be over-correct? Why not just do what I want? And not what everyone else might like. I also love my children when they behave like anti-social – why should it be any different?
So that evening I cooked a hot sauce for the rice with lots of vegetables, which I like so much and somehow nobody else. Then I vehemently forbade watching TV, imperiously ordered the children to clean up properly and then let them empty the dishwasher and hang the laundry, of course without even beginning to say "thank you". I was surprised – there was no more grumbling than usual. My older daughter simply said, "It's a shame we can't watch TV today. Can I try what's on your plate?" Then: "It tastes really good, mom." I could hardly believe it, but then it followed: "Thank you for cooking for us!" Not a word about the fact that she first drank half a liter of water after testing my curry. The little one said that she would rather my food than bread with butter. And ate almost an entire plate.
Personal house slave of others? No thanks!
When my husband got home, I said "Hello" for a moment, gave him the children and went to the pub with a friend. He too just wished "Have fun". Obviously my revolutionary vibes had gotten through to him. I had a very nice evening with good conversation about lots of things other than children and about five beers. The next morning I had a day off and a headache. I asked without a question mark – I quasi ordered – whether my godly husband could bring the children to daycare. Again there were no objections, again I was surprised. And lay down again. I just left the laundry unsorted in front of the machine. Only noticed me anyway. My husband could do it later when I went to exercise in the evening.
When he announced the next afternoon that he would watch soccer with friends and then go out for a beer, and when my children were slightly nagging at dinner about the spaghetti and scampi that I had primarily made for myself, I was almost relieved. Then I made up my mind to put in at least two days again next week on which I didn't have to feel like the other family members' personal house slave. Or just drive away alone for three days and turn off your cell phone. Or at least to go to bars more often in the evening and let my husband bring the offspring to bed, cook and raise them. As a mother you may not always be the ass after all. At least not if you hand over this role nicely.