Christian’s all crazy about this new comedy station on the radio, and heard the following clip on his way home from work. Give it a watch; it’s pretty funny.

So at dinner he asked, “Do you think that being a mom is the hardest job in the world?”

I scrunched up my face. “Mmmmm…not really,” I said. “It’s pretty difficult a lot of times, but I definitely think there are harder jobs out there. It’s all relative.”

“Like what?” Obviously he’s humoring me, because even he admittedly doesn’t completely get the struggles of being a stay at home parent. “Any job you can do in your pajamas can’t be that hard,” he quotes the comedian. Ah, my husband. Always the jokester.

But is motherhood really he hardest job on the planet? Or is that just something we say to make ourselves feel like martyrs for not earning an income, sporting yoga pants day after day, or not having showered since…uh….yeah.

The truth is, there are harder jobs. Brain surgery comes to mind. A social worker who has to witness the injustices that some children are forced to endure. Right hand man to the President. Or how about being the President? I wouldn’t want any of those jobs {but I will take Derrick Shephard’s income, thankyouverymuch.}

Those people are trained in those fields. There’s no training for motherhood. We have to wing it most of the time. How about Dr. So and So coming in, toting, “Hey, I’m gonna take care of that aneurysm for you today! My training? Well, about 9 months ago I decided I wanted to be a brain surgeon, and, well, here I am!” Not so much.

Some jobs are physically grueling. Others are emotionally draining. Motherhood happens to be a lot of both, depending on the day, the mom, and a multitude of surrounding factors. Each mother’s experience is different from the mother sitting next to her at the bouncy house.

My days with three children that are so young can be quite difficult. But that’s difficult TO ME. I have days when the constant whining, crying, fighting, and neediness make me want to scratch my eyeballs out with my jagged fingernails. But I don’t have children with special healthcare needs or disabilities. I haven’t felt the crushing weight of PPD or PPA like so many others. I’m not a single parent. It seems selfish of me to complain that my days are so difficult when there are others who have more hardships than I do.

What one person struggles with, another seems to do with ease. Some working moms don’t see how stay at home moms do it, being around their children all day every day, barely getting five minutes to themselves to eat lunch or even shower. Others envy the fantasy of staying in their pajamas all day, playing tea party or hide and seek, or heading out for fun errands that the workday doesn’t allow.

For the most part, though, they’re both wrong. And they’re both right. Some days are easier than others. Some are pure hell. It changes almost daily,

When Zoe was a baby and Rachel and Claire had barely turned two, I thought I was going to die. I was so tired from multiple night nursing sessions, alternating naps, and just not having enough hands to accommodate everyone. It never failed that right when I sat the big girls down for lunch, the baby would wake and need to be fed right then. I distinctly remember simultaneously nursing Zoe and cutting up orange slices for her sisters. Day after day my back ached from carrying around a crying infant while two toddlers yanked at my pajama pants, begging for my attention that was so hard to split three ways. It was unequivocally the hardest year of my life.

But it got easier. We found our groove. I now have three girls who still need me a lot, but are pretty self sufficient for their ages. They may throw ridiculous hissy fits over the color of their spoon, but they can tell me how they’re feeling or what they’re wanting for the most part.

I get to play dinosaurs, princesses, play doh, and hide and seek. We spend time outside playing catch or swinging. And yes, sometimes I do stay in my pajamas all day. Don’t tell my husband though, because sometimes I change 30 minutes before he comes home so he doesn’t think I’ve just been in my pajamas all day.

But sometimes I don’t want to play dolls or build with blocks or do crafts. Some days I don’t want to be responsible for teaching them. Sometimes I want to shut them out and do something for me. Sometimes being able to go to a job just to get out of the house looks mighty enticing. Although at my last job I couldn’t send my employees to time out when they screwed up or acted like idiots.

There really is no concrete manual to being a parent. There’s a higher, more complicated level that most jobs don’t have. The hard part isn’t the lack of free time or the scraping dried applesauce off the windows. It’s not the employees who are always knocking on your door begging for more juice. No, the hard part is worrying about their safety and well being, figuring out what’s best for their individual needs, and deciphering whether or not you’re scarring them for life by letting them watch Cars every day.

I admittedly suck at a lot of aspects of parenting. I don’t know how to handle a lot of disciplinary situations with my three very different kids. I stumble through what probably are very important teaching moments. I don’t always know what to say. I turn on the TV when I need a break, mental or physical.

I’ve ended days in a crumpled heap or wrapped in my husband’s arms, sure I failed my children because they defied me to the point of insanity, I was too distracted by my to do list, or I just didn’t feel like parenting that day. The good thing is that I get a second chance to do it all again right the next day. The bad thing is that I have to do it all again the next day.

Is parenting a difficult job? Absolutely. It’s physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausting at times. Some more than others. But is motherhood really the hardest job in the world? Probably not. Is it the most important job? Definitely. Do mothers {and fathers!} deserve tons of credit for raising tiny humans into what we hope become kind and responsible adults? Of course. Do we sometimes not get that respect, especially from said tiny humans who scream at us and throw yogurt on our newly mopped floors? You bet.

But at the end of the day, even though I was never the girl who cherished her dolls and said, “I just want to be a MOMMY!” I still love being here with them.

Well, I like it.

Ok, let’s just leave it at “I’m gonna do it again tomorrow.”