Of all the words in the dictionary – and there are, as you know, quite a few in there – I find the word ‘fulfilment’ to be most under-utilised, in that it is used to mean a state that is rarely achieved.

It is a word that provokes debate, desperation and dieting. For who here can say they are truly fulfilled? Who here has lived a life never wanting something more or something else?

One of the oldest cliches in our world, of course, is that motherhood is fulfilling. This is first and foremost a Western concept, because if you ask a Chinese, procreation is only for two things (one or the other, or both): the continuation of your lineage, and insurance.

All this talk about parenthood being a blessing, and that our children are gifts, and that it is the most important thing we have to do as human beings, all European or American or some advanced thinking of a ‘sy-yun-tific’ race, as the King of Siam would put it. Ask any typical Malaysian Chinese why they want to have kids, and they would most likely say, “It’s just time.” or “Married already don’t make baby, then do what wor?” or “My husband’s motherlah”, followed by this proud look of having done one’s duty by one’s mother-in-law.

Not to celebrate the love between your husband and you. Not because it’s something you’d always wanted, to be a parent. Not because you’ve always loved kids. Just someone to carry on the family name or bloodline, and someone to care for you when you’re old.

Often, Malaysian mothers go back to work because a single income is hard to stretch over two meals for four or five people in one household. But I’d wager that if you ask the working women of even the most affluent families, they would be very honest in admitting that full-time motherhood is just not for them, for very down-to-earth reasons.

“It’s just not enough,” one of my friends had said. Not fulfilling enough, another had said.

There was a time that I’d viewed these moms (strictly speaking of those who CAN choose) harshly. These days, I am simply envious of them, and wish that I too, could go for lunch with other grown-ups. Talk shop. Have a little chip card with an elastic clasp thingie that snaps back to your belt after you beep in. Save the world. Work was, to me, very fulfilling. Compared to it, parenting is just the opposite.

Full-time motherhood is a thankless job, but the hard thing about it is how big an emotional sacrifice it requires. In Malaysia, threats and the caning of kids are still common methods to discipline a child, so in a way, these full-time mothers have their ‘release’ (not that I’m advocating the caning). But here in America, we believe in raising our children in environments of of love and nurturing, positive encouragement and integrity. So where does all the negative energy go? My theory? Happiness = Fulfilment – resentment. Which is why my fulfilment level now, as a SAHM, is at about 40%, give or take.

Logically speaking, how can cleaning puke or pee from a bed be satisfying work? How can having your child scream at you for two hours at 2am in the morning be considered fulfilling? How can holding down your child as he goes through another seizure, watching him stiffen like an ironing board and then foam in the mouth, fill you up with happiness and satisfaction?

All of it drains you. All of it sucks you dry. Seriously, when does the part where you feel full come in? When they score 9As and earn scholarships? When they become doctors who are also Nobel Peace Prize winners? When they’re still around as you puke and pee in your bed?

And the worst thing about all of this is that the moment one of us starts to feel that it’s too hard, that this is just not enough, and at the same time too much, GUILT rears its head. And then we shake it off and quickly swallow those horrible terrible thoughts.

What kind of mother am I, wanting to feel happy again, wanting to feel happy thinking what life would be like if I had no children? I am a monster. I don’t deserve to be a mother. I don’t deserve my kids. What is wrong with me? I should be grateful. Instead I’m here, wanting such things, wanting more, being selfish, thinking of myself. What kind of mother doesn’t make sacrifices? What kind of mother doesn’t WANT to make sacrifices? I should be happy. I should be fulfilled. I am fulfilled. I am I am I am please I am.

STOP.

Don’t expect full-time motherhood to be fulfilling.

So now, I’m happy with just 40% of the time, I feel fulfilled. Yes, there might be women out there who aren’t ever monster mommies, who are just BORN to nurse, to change diapers, to celebrate every single goddamn step and word and piece of art that their kids bring back from preschool but these women, more power to them, I’m not ever going to be them. I hate waking up early and crayon-colouring and thinking about nutrition. I have no idea what to do if they have a fever and want to bash my own head in when they won’t stop yelling and wonder everyday how nice it would be if I could just have that remote control that Adam Sandler has in Click! so I could just pause my life now for a while and take a long nap and have some sex with my husband without having to always do it in the middle of the night because that’s the only time the girls won’t come busting in, and then wake up literally all screwed up because we did not get much sleep.

But even at 40%, I’m a facking great mom. Like the day I ‘lost’ that job opportunity because I couldn’t commit to a 40-hour week? It felt facked up, and the whole day, I could not stop wondering how great I would be at it if I did not have kids. And then, I went back to making dinner and colouring Moe Doodle with those idiotic crayons and cuddled my girls at bedtime.

I was sorry for myself, and yet, I was proud of me.

40% of the time, I am truly happy. I feel blessed that my girls are healthy, normal, and that I’m around to watch them grow. 40% of the time, I have my blog, my drawing, my books, music, movies, projects. I may get published. I may not. True, I may get maybe 75% fulfilled if I wrote professionally again (and especially for a game!), working full-time.

But at 40% fulfilled, I am good.

And that’s okay.