This post is being written mostly on very little sleep, a lot of caffeine, and some adrenaline. I say this so you can understand the rant that is to come. And because it may not make as much sense as I think it will.
I had a conversation today with a friend of mine that got under my skin a little bit. She invited my hubby and me out somewhere and my first question was, "When?" I needed to know what day to know if hubby had to work. It was a Saturday. My next question was, "What time?" I needed to know if it was during naptime or not. It was 3:00 at a place an hours drive away. I started doing math in my head. We would have to leave by 1:30 to get there on time and park. That's the middle of naptime. Unless we hire a sitter, that won't work.
I told her that. As she did an online search for sitters in the area, I told her I had already done that. As she realized a sitter was between $10-$11 an hour, I started explaining it to her. If hubby and I want a date (which for us is dinner and a movie), we are talking about at least $50 to the sitter, plus dinner, plus the movie tickets, plus gas. We are looking at at least $100. We don't have that right now.
Here's the thing. For any of you who are reading this and don't have kids, I'm telling you from all of the parents out there: you just don't understand.
I can't have a date night with my hubby without at least a few weeks of planning. Not to mention finding a sitter we would trust. We would need to have that person come over a few times so the boys could get used to him or her before we would be comfortable actually leaving.
I can't just take a break if I'm feeling overwhelmed or stressed out. Especially if my hubby is working and I have the boys by myself. I can't take a "mommy" timeout; they will follow me. Or come find me. Or yell at me from across the house. Or all of the above.
I get so worn out, I don't always have the energy to take a shower every single day. I don't get to take relaxing baths very often because I always think I hear one of them calling for me. I don't have the energy to keep my house clean, vacuumed, and dusted 24/7. Hell, I don't even know where my shoes are half the time because one got hidden. My youngest son actually chewed to glitter off of one my shoes. And yes, I still wear them.
I don't have time to plan meals. It's usually 5:00 and I am scrounging through the fridge trying to find a few things I can mix together to be considered a balanced meal. And then I worry about what they are eating, thinking that I should have put more into the meal.
I don't get to go to bed when I'm tired. I go when I'm utterly exhausted or my body shuts down on me. After the boys are asleep, I feel like I have to divide my time between my homework and whatever housework has been neglected the most. I am up until at least midnight most nights. And I am usually up before 7. I depend very heavily on coffee in the morning.
Now before you folks without kids start saying things like, "You made the choice to have kids" or "You didn't have to go back to school" know one more thing: you're right. My hubby and I made an informed decision to plan our family. I chose to go back to school for my doctorate so I can provide for my family doing something that I love. I am setting the example of chasing a dream so my sons will hopefully grow up to do the same.
I am not looking for sympathy. I am not looking for pity. I want you to understand me. Every time you see me, I am wrestling with feelings of guilt because my boys are in daycare and not with me. I am wrestling with every act of discipline I have used, worried that in 20 years they will be telling their therapist what a terrible mom they have. I am worried about whether or not they fit in, whether they are making friends. I wonder if they ever think about me. I often have to force my brain to focus on the task at hand, and then I feel bad when I realize I didn't think about them all day.
I deal with all that and more that I can't put into words. And I am still getting all of my work done. I don't have 12 hours to spend a whole day getting things done. I get naptime and after they go to bed. But I am still getting it done. I feel like I am barely treading water, but I am still making it. Barely, but I am.
When you see me, or any other parent, try to be understanding. Remember the struggle we all engage in. Know that we want to tell you about our kids because we miss them and wish we were with them. Be patient with us when we get emotional or pissy for no apparent reason. There is a reason: we are trying but feel like we are failing miserably.
I think most parents have a baby and have all of these utopian ideas about how life will be. Nobody tells you that you will get peed on, pooped on, thrown up on, spit on (or at, as my oldest likes to do these days), cursed at, hit, punched, kicked, bit, head-butted, yelled at, pinched, and more. Nobody tells you about when your child will throw things, break things, color on things, destroy things, terrorize your pets, terrorize each other, or tell you they hate you. All done by a little creature you made that you love with all of your heart. It's SO hard. But we all do it out of love.
So please, non-parents out there, just be understanding. You'll get to our place someday and wish for the same. Trust me.
