Sometimes You Just Have To Call Your Mother

Being a stay at mom can be quite overwhelming. I've worked long hours in the past and didn't have days off for weeks at a time. I thought I would be at least a little prepared for this.
This job is different. And yes, it is a job. A very redundant job and it takes years to see big results. Oh, and the pay is really none existent at this point and the next person that gets excited because it's Friday may get shanked. The weekend usually brings this stay-at-home even more cleaning.
I try my best to hold my head up and work through the spit up, and the poop, and the dirty dishes I couldn't get to, and the clutter that occurs in our small house. I do very well with forgetting to put on a bra or brushing my hair. I have even come to terms with the fact that I can't always figure out when PB needs to burp or if she's just crying because she doesn't Luke where she's sitting.
Not yesterday though. Not even close. It started out ok besides the headache at 5am that went away before PB started beaming her sunshine smile at me at 8:30. That smile was short lived. It was whining and crying for the rest of the day. And not the crying like she really needed something. It was the crying like I'm not comfortable and you won't be either.
This was on top of the resentments I had started feeling the night before. The lack of time, ALWAYS holding, and feeding, and changing this baby while feeling ignored and like nothing more than a food source and a mother. I am a mother but I'm also Jenny. I have interests and hobbies, likes and dislikes. At least, I used to.
So I think to myself I will get dressed and brush my hair since the husband will be home shortly. I will go do laundry and pick up my birth control and get out of the house. I have a glimmer of hope now. I'm smiling. Then PB spits up all over my clean clothes. Not an explosion like it could have been but damnit, I was dressed! PB starts crying, I start crying and I shattered.
Thank God for my mom. I called her immediately and for the next five minutes every sentence starts with "I hate". There were so many! Once I started I couldn't stop. I hadn't realized how much was bothering me.
The best thing about my mom is she doesn't take any of it to heart. She doesn't get butt hurt or her feelings hurt. I don't have to sugar coat anything and she completely understood everything that I said because she's been there. Yes, I know, all mothers have been there but this is MY mother, who called HER mother saying the same things when she was my age and she's been where I am. And even worse, if truth be told. She understood the loneliness I feel, laughed with me about wanting to make sure my husband could never have children ever again, and helped me through all the resentment I feel when I answer the phone only to answer questions about PB. She let me know that feeling these things don't make me a bad mother, it's part of being a mother.
So in conclusion... haha, just kidding.
I don't feel 100% better but it really helps to know that all of these things happen to the best of us. And if anyone tells you otherwise, they're lying.

I hope my story helps someone out there. Whether it be a new mom or a new grandma. Every generation has different struggles but it's all the same feelings. If you are a new mom and lucky enough to still have her, call your mother. On good days and bad. That's what she's there for.