Here I go again. I’ll be whining this time so if you are not in the mood, don’t read. But maybe bookmark me for when you ARE in the mood.
I know lots of military mamas and I feel for them. Their hubbies are away for months on end and they have to run households full of children all on their own, while worrying about their husbands and their safety. I have actually previously posted about the respect that I have for my military friends.
Yet I have a predicament all my own. My husband is in the same city as me all the time. He is never away fighting bad guys in some foreign, dusty land. He is never away on business meetings or at conventions. He’s here. In the same city. But rarely in our house, at our home, gracing us with his presence.
Instead, he is expoing food, creating schedules, attending meetings, placing orders, appeasing unhappy guests, and giving his employees and employer his very best. For about 80 hours a week. The rest of the hours? He’s sleeping. Heavily.
He’s not here even when he’s here. He’s sleeping quite soundly either on the sofa so that he can “spend time with us”. Or, he’s wrapped in a feather blanket in our SleepNumber bed. I really might as well be a single mom, shuffling our kids around all the time, administering discipline, teaching them life skills, feeding them, putting them to bed, all by myself. It sucks because he is HERE so I get into the mindset that he’s “here” and that I’ll get some help or a short break, or a SHOWER for heck’s sake. But that never happens. And he’s “here” but not “here” so despite my mindset, I’m still single (married) and doing “it” alone.
I never thought when I got married that I’d be more lonely married than I was when I was a single mom.
He gives his employer his best, but we don’t even get the “rest”. We go about our daily lives while he gets some rest to catch up from exhausting himself at work the previous week.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate that he works so that I can stay home, but the rub is that he makes a salary. So in essence, he is working 40 hours for free every week while we suffer along at home, alone. He COULD be working two full time jobs making TWICE what he’s making now. That’d be pretty sweet.
Then he doesn’t understand why when he gets a day off, I want to go get a pedicure or go shopping or go to a Mom’s Night Out with my friends….alone.
I recently polled my stay at home mom readers about whose sleep is more important, theirs or their husband’s.
75% of women said that their sleep is equally as important as their husband’s
12.5% said that their husband’s sleep is MORE important
12.5% said that their sleep was MORE important than their husband’s
I believe that it is equally important. I do fine on little sleep but I do even better with a little more sleep. I am up several times during the night, nursing Grady which is something that my husband cannot do and I’m totally fine with that. What I’m not fine with is going to bed at the exact same time he does, then getting up 3 or 4 hours before him, then having him come out of the bedroom like he’s just run a marathon with an “I’m exhausted” look on his face. Really? Because I’ve already been up for 4 hours, nursed the baby, fed the toddler breakfast, cleaned baby spit-up out of the toddler’s hair, packed the 10 year old’s lunch, made a pot of coffee, made the kids’ beds, cleaned the kitchen, folded 3 loads of laundry, shooed the 10 year old out the door for school, and colored a Strawberry Shortcake to look like a pirate.
I’m exhausted too but I choose not to show it. So when I roll my eyes and have very little sympathy, I’m sorry (no, I’m really not).
Truth be told, I am having more and more days where I feel like I want to quit my job and then remember that there’s no job to quit. There’s life but I can’t quit LIFE. There are more and more days that end with Madilyn dancing on my very last, frayed nerve. There are increasingly more days where I want to retreat into the back of my mind and never return as I sit, rocking in a corner, crying into my knees.
Maybe if I got more than 45 minutes of uninterrupted sleep at night, or was allowed to sleep in while the hubby took care of the kids one morning, I wouldn’t feel like that.
Perhaps I’d care a little more about what I look like, and have the energy to work out. Maybe, JUST MAYBE, I’d have a little more motivation to work on my old body again, and to lose all of this dreadful baby weight.
I might even want to find the time to do the nasty.
But that’s not reality for me. My husband is married to his job and I’m married to my house & kids. They’re needy little turds but they care very little for giving. Unless it’s attitude, dirty diapers, or tears. I get lots of those each day. A couple of hours to myself each week would be wonderful.
If given the time, I wonder how long it would take me to find me again. An hour? A week? A month? I just need someone to care enough to let me search but I can’t convince Kyle that my job is as important as his is, let alone my sleep.