This blog is for wives and mothers who have real feelings, but are too selfless to share them with family.
Let me start by saying that I love, even adore my family. I have been with my husband for 7 years. We have a 5 year old son, whom we adopted as a newborn. He was born addicted to meth, which has presented it challenges. He is not "special needs," but he is SUPER HIGH MAINTENANCE. However, we don't care. We're delighted.
But this blog is not here for cut little anecdotes about how our children painted little flowers at school. It's here for all the other things that we don't want to tell anyone else. It's here for complaints and feelings of wanting to just start breaking things. (Yes, sometimes I just want to BREAK things. Glass, in particular.)
I'm sure we can all relate to feeling like Monday-Friday is a fight to get through the day. School, work, meals, early mornings, crowded freeways...HELP! Mornings are the worst for me because I'm SO exhausted, I just don't want to get out of bed. I keep changing the sound on my alarm, hoping that I'll hate it less-but no. I still hate it. Our son is just as bad with mornings. Disagreeable is a generous description of his attitude. I start by cooking eggs and sausage, since that's all they'll eat, and then fighting to get them to the table to eat it. Our son is particularly bad about it. He gets to the table and then says "I'm not hungry," which eventually turns into eggs flying across the kitchen. By the time my husband (who has little sense of time) gets to the table, I am already fed up with things. But he is so much more patient with our son. He will sit there with him and count out bites, which is really great, except we don't have an hour to sit there while he eats. I tried getting everyone up earlier, but that didn't work either.
Then there is dinner time, family time, and bedtime. My boys will only eat my outstanding cooking...Which is usually okay. But sometimes I am just too damn tired to cook. And then there's another fight about eating dinner. And after 12 hour of working, driving and cooking, I am in no mood for it. So I tell my son to just EAT the FOOD. And of course, my husband steps in and say "we mustn't get too frustrated with him.'' A lovely thought, if you aren't ready to tear your hair out.
I remember the days before we adopted our son...Everyday was like a honeymoon. Lots of romance, candlelight, cozy dinners, movies that weren't animated. And sex! Yes, sex! I can vaguely remember it. Our son has added so much joy to our lives as parents, but adding to the marriage??? Well yes, in a sense. We're closer to each other in terms of parenting and love and cuddling and hugs and kisses. But sometimes I just want the old ravenous husband who ruined some of my blouses by tearing them off me. Of course, my husband is a great dad, I wouldn't trade that.
I would love to have a week off from the daily grind, just to relax and not feel like my blood pressure is a few points off a stroke. I love the word "mommy," it really makes you feel the bond with your child. Of course, after the 500th time hearing it in a day, it turns into a swear word. I think a week off would help. Who wouldn't want a week off. Oh well...Maybe during the summer. For now. I shall just trudge on.
