If I have to describe my ideal Hierarchy of Love it would be as follows: I love myself first, followed by my love and commitment to my husband. After that comes my dedication to my children, whom I would protect with my life if need be. This is not the most politically correct stance, unpopular especially with martyrs and wanna-be sacrificial lambs. That’s harsh language, and likely to set up bells and whistles in some heads.

Here’s the thing though...

I love being a mom, but I don’t always enjoy the tasks and sacrifices associated with motherhood. I love my children more than I ever thought possible, but I don’t always like them. And yes, I have fantasies of running away and never returning. And you know what… millions of other women feel the same way. So why do we rarely talk about it?

I recognize and appreciate the minority of women out there who are truly gifted at motherhood. These women are gifted in the same way as those who have natural musical, academic, or athletic aptitude. Mothering innately flows from them with ease, joy and passion. It is their life purpose to care for their children. These few women will have no idea what I am talking about. For the rest of us…you know exactly what I am about to dare speak of.

I never liked to write. 

I was never any good at it. As a child, I would put off all writing assignments to the last minute and then painful squeak out the minimum word requirement for my academic classes. This unsuccessful process usually resulted in a “c” and some kind of teacher comment about expanding my ideas. Writing continued to be an undesired experience through college and grad school. I just didn’t like it and only did it if I absolutely had to. I had an interest in going for my PhD, but the thought of writing a dissertation would make me start to sweat, my breath becoming shallow. I got a job instead.

One of the best parts about being a parent is getting to see the world through the eyes of a child, again. Life doesn’t get much better then abandoning all inhibitions and being a child with your child. I am my happiest when running through sprinklers with my clothes on, eating ice cream for breakfast and flying around my house in a Batman cape trying to capture The Joker. I delight in the “easy” questions about thunderstorms, bugs and eye color. I have waited years to have these engaging conversations with my children. Watching their minds process and retain information is quite enjoyable and satisfying.

But what about the tough questions?