Adjective
In a state of mind that prevents normal perception, behavior, or social interaction; seriously mentally ill.
(of an action or quality) Characterized or caused by madness.
Synonyms
mad - crazy - demented - lunatic
Motherhood is a silly thing. It doesn't make you insane, it shows you how insane you already are, deep down inside. I'm starting to realize that as the days are getting longer and the nerves are wearing down; I'm forced to think about the fact that I will never be Supermom and that I'm truly... insane.
It's a good kind of insane, though. It's the type of insanity that drives a person to become a parent in the first place. See, you don't fully realize the weight of the contract when you think of starting a perfect, cute, fun (--insert any lighthearted adjective here--) little family, but you are rallying yourself up for quite a long and arduous journey, something beyond dirty diapers and sisterly cat fights. Yours becomes a life of worry and self doubt. You put yourself in the very relentless grasp of Torture by Whining. You sacrifice your physical body beyond just giving birth; it's all the bending over for something dropped or spilled on the floor and the permanent right shoulder sag from the daily weight of a diaper bag or infant car seat. And those are just in the first years of your parenthood. If you willingly sign up for all those things and countless other parental grievances, you are, by definition, truly insane. "Normal" people steer clear of uncomfortable situations like that, yet we as parents commit to a lifetime of it.
Why?
Well, I propose that we are every bit as brilliant as we are insane. In Brilliancy's favor, I think it does outshine any kind of monotony to which Parenthood contributes. We, the parents of the next generation, have got Creative Brilliance down pat. In the primal sense, we gave life to those little rugrats because humans feel the invisible force to create. It's by pure nature that we want to experience and perpetuate life like 99.9% of all biotic things. The brilliancy behind the natural inclination is interwoven with complete insanity given the simple fact that we already know, or have an inkling at least, what kind of life we're getting ourselves into--yet we do it anyway. Whether we are conscious of our brilliancy or not, we're setting ourselves up for a lifetime of not only the discomfort, but the inexplicable, unmitigated feeling of happiness that comes only from being a mother or father.
Before I had children, I would observe the interactions of parents with their youngsters and would try to empathize with them so I could set the right expectation for myself in order to form a logical and informed decision for my own future. I noticed soon that there were many things about children that I was not keen on--the smells, the bodily fluids, the grime, the sass, the whining, the... well, you get the point. Then I would pay attention to the smiles that parents would flash whether they were the result of a child's full-effort given, or a funny phrase spoken, or even a reaction to a completely new experience. I could tell that the parents were happy, but I did not even grasp their level of happiness. I could not, because I wasn't a parent yet; I did not understand that those same little rugrats who drool and scream also give a powerful dose of joy that cannot be matched by any drug.
Well, you know the story for me: insanity and brilliancy won. I became like most other people at some point--a parent--and it gives me pleasure to admit that I am not unique in that sense. Though I may have been at war with my children today, in realizing that my choice was formed from that crazy psychological potion, I find an odd comfort. I have many more reasons, mostly religious, to find peace with my choice to have children, but I can say that even lately when the girls and I are constantly butting heads, I wouldn't have traded it for the world.
(No one has their hair brushed and we're taking a picture in the bathroom... That's just how we roll these days.)
