Sometimes I have a lot of these days. Where I look around at my home and my family and think:
* how come the mess only bothers me
* since when did putting the dishes in the dishwasher, putting the milk back in the fridge and twist tying the bread become the sole responsibility of me
* why does no one pick up the toy that's been sitting on the stairs for two days, they've walked past it at least 50 times and yet there it remains.
* I am not the only one that enjoys eating, why am I the only one capable of meal planning
* Just because I am at home during the day and work at night, does that still technically mean that I should be responsible for 99.9% of the cleaning going on? I mean, it's not like I don't have another job.
* how come men are great at carrying things but suck at unpacking
* which leads into the... because they didn't help unpack it they have no friggin clue were anything is or where it should go.
* why does wanting to sit down for a 1/2 hour without one child clinging to me after playing the mom "bob areobics" all morning, earn me the "she just wants attention" comment from daddy and thus makes me a bad mommy because I don't want to snuggle at that moment, which I saw as a manipulative ploy in getting out of what I asked her to do event anyways.
* why does the sound of my husband thereafter going and playing with them make me feel like a bad mommy, when I can't remember the last time he actually took that kind of time out to play like that
* how come my errands and priorities always seem to take a backseat to his
Today, was one of those days. It all started from the fact that I'd been looking forward all week to getting out by myself on Saturday and it didn't happen. While I can tell myself the reasons why it didn't happen were justifiable and all good, it still got me down.
It makes me feel stuck. I am to all extents and purposes, bound to these three kids who have deprived me of my freedom in ways I never would have imagined. It's almost like being on house arrest with the only means of being sprung is when the jailer relieves you of your duty for a pitiful hour or two. Only in jail they get a mandatory hour for exercise. At least they do in the movies. ;)
Sure I could take them with me and often do but it's just not the same.
So I grumped my way through my chores while hubs organized the garage. I know I'm being unreasonable and the whole time I'm arguing with myself because I know in my heart that me staying home with the kids is the right choice for our family. I just didn't figure on how mundane the day-to-day home life would be.
My husband does help but his help is inconsistent. Which, makes it very difficult to talk to him about it. He sees it as he does do these things to help and I see it as, yes, you do but only once every two or three weeks or so. Would he recall the fact that he only made the bed once in the past three weeks? No, he'd recall the one time he did. Now this, in of itself, is a little thing but when you're husband no longer commutes and supposedly has more time would it hurt to expect him to make the bed once in a while? Especially when you're downstairs making breakfasts for the kids, bagging lunches and basically nagging and organizing three children into getting dressed and ready for the day.
I have to say it gets a little disheartening after a while.