Wife and Mommy

I admit it:  by the time The Husband gets home from work, I am Done with being Mommy. Done with questions that mostly involve the word Why.  Done with requests for 337 snacks.  Done with distracting, re-directing, diverting, etc.  Done with Dora, Barbie, Tinker Toys, Legos, Curious George and every other single toy game book we have in the house. Done with tantrums, sibling altercations and end-of-the-day whining.   Done.  Done.  Done.

So it seems fair to me that I should be allowed to exit at the moment The Husband enters the house.  I’m not being completely unreasonable, right?  I need the break and want desperately to leave my Mommy-hat behind…maybe until the next morning.  Or the next week.  Or the next month.  Whatever.

Okay, so my desire to quit being Mommy for a long while isn’t completely fair to The Husband.  He is an excellent Husband and Dad, and he understands that the Introvert in me is zapped by the constant people-time that is my day as a Mommy.  He tries to give me as much of a break as possible.  I hole myself up in the farthest point in the house away from the kids and attempt to let my mind reset.  I read.  I knit.  I catch up on the internet.  Anything, as long as it is done in solitude.

Soon, way too soon, however, I hear The Husband calling for me.  Or the kids come find me.  It’s Family Time.  Dinner.  More conversation.  I try not to snap at The Husband, who just wants to talk to me and the kids, catch up on our day.  I feel attacked from all sides as the four people I love most in the world will.not.shut.up.

The bedtime routine is the final straw.  Doing jammies, teeth, books, songs, prayers, tuck-ins–and heaven forbid it be a bath night!–absolutely does me in.  I collapse at the end of it, unable to form coherent sentences and my eyes glazed over.

The next day, it begins all over again.

Tags: mommy, the husband