It sure feels like my husband is married to his job. He spends more time at work in a single day than here at home throughout the week (i.e. waking hours). I mommy alone, 24/7. To say I am exhausted, frustrated, stretched thin, and overwhelmed are complete understatements. And to be completely honest, I hate it.
I hate it.
There. I said it. It’s so hard doing everything on my own and having two people to look completely after and also make sure the house stays in order, the bills get paid, the laundry gets done, the refrigerator stays somewhat full, and a gazillion of other things. I simple can’t anymore.
I can’t.
I’m not upset at my husband because he doesn’t choose this schedule by choice. He doesn’t pick up more hours for money. No, he’s required to put in 12 hour shifts 7 days a week. Like what the… I won’t say it. I can’t possibly do this anymore, but I have no choice.
There is no reward at the of the day and there are no “end of the weeks” anymore. Every day meshes into the next. I go to bed without my husband home every single night and some weeks I sleep alone with two babies next to me.
I cook, I clean. I clean and I cook. I change diapers and I give kisses. And sometimes I sit in the corner when the house is quiet for the one weird second and I cry. I cry because I can’t anymore.
My body says stop but my mind faintly whispers, “keep going…”
It’s hard. I probably mention this to my husband every single day, right before he takes off of course. It’s real hard being a mommy and figuring out this parenting thing and it’s even harder doing it on your own.
This season is hard. I know every parent with grown kids tell me to stop, please enjoy it because it does go by fast.
That’s hard to believe right now and it’s even harder to hear those words. I know it’s true. My son will be 2 1/2 this month, like no! My baby is already 9 months. But at the same time, I just want two seconds of quiet.
Because seriously, when will my toddler stop pestering his sister? Probably never. Or when will I finally relax and go with the flow? Or when will my 2 year old finally use the potty? Or how about escaping for 30 minutes without my 9 month needing me?
I’m the problem.
My husband’s schedule isn’t the real deal here. No, it’s me. I have a hard time letting go of messes and leaving the mess there. Honestly I try and let it go and be that mom who leaves the dishes in the sink and forgets them there three days ago. I really want to be the mom who remembers she never brushed her teeth and now it’s 9pm so might as well screw it. But I’m not.
Everything has to be semi-perfect for me and it’s wearing me down, stretching me thin. I am the only one who sets these expectations. My husband doesn’t expect anything from me. I set these expectations, these almost impossible goals every single day.
X, y, and z must get done or else I’ll feel unaccomplished, unsuccessful, and lazy.
It sucks. This drive I have is too much for me to keep up with.
At the end of the day it really doesn’t matter that much more if the bed got made. Yeah it makes me feel happy and accomplished and I know certain things need to get done, but the constant feeling of having to get things done…enough.
It’s okay to sit on the sofa for ten minutes or even an hour, heaven forbid that ever happens, and do nothing. Say nothing. Think nothing.
Do nothing.
But it’s just that. I can’t. My mind doesn’t stop. I want it to. I want to just relax and forget about the dishes piling up. I want to forget about the crumbs all over the floor. And most of all, I want to forget about the heap of laundry stacked up high on my bed that I have to throw on the floor at the end of the day so I can crawl into bed.
Young motherhood is hard. I feel as if there’s always something. Kids need help 24/7. Babies can’t raise themselves and toddlers…good grief. A quiet toddler is never a good thing!
Motherhood is only a season.
Because eventually the diaper changing, the rocking to sleep, wiping dirty faces, and sweeping up food will be a past time. Eventually I will be up wondering when my teen son will be home. Or if my teen daughter tells me everything. So really, I think right now is the easiest it’ll ever be.
Yes, my husband works 85 hours a week literally. He’s either working or sleeping and so I never see him. I practically raise my children alone. I live 1200 miles away from family. I’m exhausted. But at least I know where my babies are at the end of every day: in their beds, safe and asleep.
So excuse me while I sign off and cuddle some more, and cry into my pillow. I’m thankful.
Thankful for this crazy season. It’s a season. A crazy one, but also a grateful one.
And for that I am thankful. <3
