happiness in parenting?

“That’s 3! TIME-OUT!”

I can hear it behind my closed bedroom door even with the humidifier running on high. It’s an hour past his bedtime and my 3.5 year old is pulling at every last nerve of our entire family.

I laugh because at that very moment I was contemplating whether or not there truly is any happiness in parenting. Not happiness in your children or your family, but in the actual act of parenting.

I honestly don’t think there is.

Now, the masses may gasp, turn their noses up at me and write me off as a horrible person who doesn’t love her children. But to those I say, you are not listening.

Loving your children and loving the act of parenting them are not one in the same.

I love my children.

I don’t like parenting them.

I recently read an article I found at the bottom of a pile on my desk. My mother sent it to me months ago, when I was neck-deep in worries that I would never snap out of my PPD. The article was entitled, “All Joy and No Fun: Why parents hate parenting“.

It is not the most uplifting of articles, but it touches on some serious notions about parenting and discusses studies that have been done on parenting and happiness.

Some of the findings were striking:

“Parents are more depressed than nonparents no matter what their circumstances – whether they’re single, married, whether they have one child or four; Mothers are less happy than fathers, single parents are less happy still, babies and toddlers are the hardest and each successive child produces diminishing returns; having children invariably reduces marital satisfaction…”

This article and these dire findings made me take a closer look at myself and the issues I have been struggling with as a mother. I love my kids, but I dread the day-to-day parenting.

Does this mean I don’t love my children? It sure feels like it, when you think back to your day and you can’t think of one enjoyable thing about it.

Are all my days like this? No, but to be honest, the majority are.

This leads me to think I am some horrible person, missing some maternal gene that all the other mothers in the world seem to possess.

Is this the case? No.

Even with all these studies, every researcher found that not a single parent regretted having children. Not one.

“The broad message is not that children make you less happy; it’s just that children don’t make you more happy.”

I think it comes down to how you define your happiness. I am not happy and fulfilled on a daily basis. Yet, my life is enriched and more meaningful by having my children and my husband.

I believe that I was wrong in believing that having children would somehow define me as a person. I truly believed that by having children I would be eternally happy, feel ultimately fulfilled and be the shiny goddess of motherhood.

I kid you not, I did.

So what a shock to have this vision of motherly bliss be broken apart by the reality of parenting.

One of my favorite quotes from the article that made me laugh out loud in agreement was from one of the author’s fellow psychologist and father of two:

“[Children] They’re a huge source of joy, but the turn every other source of joy to shit.”

I understand why my mother sent this to me. She knew I could relate, even if she couldn’t or not many I know could.

I can.

This journey of parenting and motherhood has not been what my little doe-eyed younger self envisioned. Call that girl naive or just hopeful. Call her what you want, but the mother she is today is not all that happy with her job as a parent.

However despite it all, I don’t regret it and I can’t imagine sending my kids off to be raised by someone else.

This is my job.

I chose this job.

I yearned for this job and at times, for brief moments, moments when I can hear my kids giggling together in their bedroom as they are waking up for the day, the squeals of delight I get when I return home from only a five-minute outing,  the wonder I see in their eyes when they experience something for the first time, the sense of pride I can see all over their faces when they finally figure out how to climb to the top of the playground on their own; I get the wind knocked out of me with the amount of joy I feel as a parent.

It is in those rare moments that I am reminded of why I chose this difficult job.

I find peace in knowing that this is the hardest job I will ever have.

I find peace in knowing that I chose this job and do not regret one moment of it thus far.

I find peace in knowing that loving your children and loving the act of parenting them are not one in the same.

I hold on to those brief amazing moments of bliss, because they are what truly matter.

I hold on to them tightly because I know I did not have children to make me happy, I had children to bring meaning to my life and with that I am truly blessed and beyond happy.

“I don’t want to sit in time-out! NO! You are mean Daddy!”

The screaming gets louder and louder as he makes his way to the top step.

The bedroom door opens and my husband storms in. We catch each other’s eye and breath deeply together.

Tagged as: family, motherhood, parenting