Can we do some real talk this morning? Okay, good.
Let’s begin by this unfortunate truth: women tend to be really hard on each other. We are. I don’t know if it’s because we are hard on ourselves, or if guilt is a motivating factor, or our struggles with jealousy. I think it can sometimes be all of the above. This is not what this post is all about today, but I just want to put that out there because it’s kind of related.
That said, I know how lucky I am to stay at home. There have been times we have fought tooth and nail for the opportunity, and times where it was easier to manage one income. Being aware of how lucky/blessed I am, I try to keep that in mind at all times, lest I enrage a group of women who either think I’m lazy or privileged. It happens. So instead of a whole host of #SAHMProblems (I don’t know if that’s actually a hashtag but I wouldn’t be surprised), I keep my complaints to myself as much as possible. Sometimes those complaints build up internally until there is an actual problem — and I’m going to share that today.
I need a small break.
I’ve been away from my son for less than 24 hours total since he was put in my arms at the hospital. If I’ve had a full 24 hours (which I doubt), that breaks down to a weekly 45 minute break. Roughly 6 minutes without my son per day since the day he’s been home. Also, nearly half that time I’ve been with Bluebelle, so I’ve been truly kid free for about 3 minutes per day in the last 7 1/2 months.
I don’t really mind this, I don’t. I LOVE my babies. But when my husband is living out a suitcase for 15 out of the last 30 days, and I can’t even go to the bathroom without company …I just get tired, y’all. My baby doesn’t sleep through the night, so it’s not like I can even stay up to get some free time alone.
Can we just agree that everyone deserves at least a little break?
When I get this strained, I get frustrated. I find myself spending too much time on my phone. I get jealous of my husband who gets to eat a whole meal and watch whatever he wants on TV. I resent him asking anything of me when he is home because I’ve been running like an iPhone that only gets to 10% battery life before I’m pulled off the charger and used again. I find my mind wandering and not listening to my daughter. I find my patience is short and I yell. I get to this “If I get pulled/scratched/touched/deal with one more tantrum one more time…” mode and I am like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. I don’t want to listen to the Frozen soundtrack anymore. I get resentful of my son crying and asking to be held by me and only me.
I don’t like when I get to be this person.
I think what makes me the saddest is that we can’t just talk about these things when it gets to be this bad. This isn’t our all-day-everyday, but why can’t we talk about this when this is our right now?
I can’t type anymore, but I’m throwing this out there.