If a person doesn’t remain in a state of near-religious bliss all of the time she spends with her children, if she sometimes feels tired, exhausted, frustrated, angry, annoyed, etc., this doesn’t mean she’s a bad mother. It means she’s not a robot.
And those poor dumb broads who repress all of these normal emotions and never confess to themselves that they are experiencing them end up unconsciously sabotaging their kids in very harsh ways. Because the repressed always returns and bites you in the ass. You can’t truly love somebody whose existence forces you to abdicate your humanity. The beatific, saccharine mommies end up hating their kids.
And it could all be avoided if they felt free to say, every once in a while, “Gosh, this is exhausting / boring / frustrating / impossible. I’m so fucking tired.”
Anybody who tries to suggest I should become one of the saccharine mommies will get their ass whooped. It makes me really furious.