I Vant to be Ah-lone
Any woman out there who is currently childless and is considering motherhood, know this...your time is not your own. Ever. Sure, I know you knew that but I don't know if you KNOW that. This motherhood deal can seriously blow sometimes.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I had not been suffering under the feminist delusion of "having it all". You see, feminism made a few serious miscalculations.
#1: That society at large would actually LIKE to have women free to contribute beyond wiping poopy bottoms and making sure Skippy does his homework.
#2: That our significant others would be secure enough to handle it.
#3: That other women would really want to band together for the good of all women. Well, if ALL women make it, then that would make my achievements small in comparison, so...screw them!
Okay, I'm taking things a bit far here, but I am one bitter, resentful chippy and I hate being this way. If things keep going this way in 10 (2) years time you will see me at the end of the bar, overly made up with my hair on crooked and muttering curses into my low-rent vodka. What I need is a cleaning lady, an intern, an aupair who speaks English, French and Spanish and Japanese would be nice, a bigger home to help house the au pair so I don't feel like a giant freak, a back yard, and a husband who is fulfilled and will occassionally give me a spontaneous hug or kiss and who will make arrangements for dates instead of relying on me to mangage our relationship. Come to think of it, I would like to have a little help just taking care of their lives so I can take care of my own. I'm tired of managing Sullivan's social life, his school needs, his emotional life, and his health while making sure my husband has clean underwear, has the appropriate groceries available, facilitating his father/son time in which he never seems to know what to do, nudging him toward an exercise routine and encouraging him to care for his own health, and being his professional cheerleader. Who the hell is doing those things for me? Me. Guess who's stuff is constantly left by the wayside? Mine.
Now, this is not all Tom and Sullivan's fault. I trained them to depend on me and weening them from it is harder than you could imagine. I had a Super Mom, so I thought that was what I needed to do. I'm surrounded by other Super Moms, but why is it that I feel like I am the only one drwoning in the job?
Everyone always puts on such a great game face. Who knows, maybe they DO love it and I am just a horrible freak for being so angry and resentful. I know that sometimes I can be a flipping bummer at the playground because if you ask me how I am doing I'll tell you. But that's my version of feminism. I refuse to sugar coat the mommy truth. As rewarding as it is, and as much as I love my son, this job is harder than I ever imagined. Not because of the kid stuff, necessarily, but because of the grown up stuff, because of the getting lost stuff. It is so easy to get lost in the overwhelming needs and demands of this little creature and then it is easy to fall into the trap of caring for the husband as well. I know many families where the father suddenly cannot do anything for himself and begs for attention- competing in neediness with his own offspring. Balance is incredibly difficult to attain and if you're the only one looking for it you are in an uphill battle. Hello, Sysiphus!
Right now I just want to be alone in my own home, but in order to be alone, I need to leave the house. Why? Because I can't get them out the door. Tom stays up all hours and sleeps whenever he wants. Granted, his job does not help his sleep patterns, so that is not entirely his fault, but it still pisses me off. Of course, Sullivan wakes up at the crack of freaking dawn screaming for breakfast and for me to make a million different things out of paper for him and I spend the rest of the morning defending my quiet territory and my cup of coffee from the ravages of time. (Sip it fast or you won't get to drink it!) I just want to carve out a little something for myself that has nothing to do with managing their lives, but, of course, that means I need to get those things squared away first or I will return to a mess that was even bigger than before I left. And guess who will have to clean it up?
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I had not been suffering under the feminist delusion of "having it all". You see, feminism made a few serious miscalculations.
#1: That society at large would actually LIKE to have women free to contribute beyond wiping poopy bottoms and making sure Skippy does his homework.
#2: That our significant others would be secure enough to handle it.
#3: That other women would really want to band together for the good of all women. Well, if ALL women make it, then that would make my achievements small in comparison, so...screw them!
Okay, I'm taking things a bit far here, but I am one bitter, resentful chippy and I hate being this way. If things keep going this way in 10 (2) years time you will see me at the end of the bar, overly made up with my hair on crooked and muttering curses into my low-rent vodka. What I need is a cleaning lady, an intern, an aupair who speaks English, French and Spanish and Japanese would be nice, a bigger home to help house the au pair so I don't feel like a giant freak, a back yard, and a husband who is fulfilled and will occassionally give me a spontaneous hug or kiss and who will make arrangements for dates instead of relying on me to mangage our relationship. Come to think of it, I would like to have a little help just taking care of their lives so I can take care of my own. I'm tired of managing Sullivan's social life, his school needs, his emotional life, and his health while making sure my husband has clean underwear, has the appropriate groceries available, facilitating his father/son time in which he never seems to know what to do, nudging him toward an exercise routine and encouraging him to care for his own health, and being his professional cheerleader. Who the hell is doing those things for me? Me. Guess who's stuff is constantly left by the wayside? Mine.
Now, this is not all Tom and Sullivan's fault. I trained them to depend on me and weening them from it is harder than you could imagine. I had a Super Mom, so I thought that was what I needed to do. I'm surrounded by other Super Moms, but why is it that I feel like I am the only one drwoning in the job?
Everyone always puts on such a great game face. Who knows, maybe they DO love it and I am just a horrible freak for being so angry and resentful. I know that sometimes I can be a flipping bummer at the playground because if you ask me how I am doing I'll tell you. But that's my version of feminism. I refuse to sugar coat the mommy truth. As rewarding as it is, and as much as I love my son, this job is harder than I ever imagined. Not because of the kid stuff, necessarily, but because of the grown up stuff, because of the getting lost stuff. It is so easy to get lost in the overwhelming needs and demands of this little creature and then it is easy to fall into the trap of caring for the husband as well. I know many families where the father suddenly cannot do anything for himself and begs for attention- competing in neediness with his own offspring. Balance is incredibly difficult to attain and if you're the only one looking for it you are in an uphill battle. Hello, Sysiphus!
Right now I just want to be alone in my own home, but in order to be alone, I need to leave the house. Why? Because I can't get them out the door. Tom stays up all hours and sleeps whenever he wants. Granted, his job does not help his sleep patterns, so that is not entirely his fault, but it still pisses me off. Of course, Sullivan wakes up at the crack of freaking dawn screaming for breakfast and for me to make a million different things out of paper for him and I spend the rest of the morning defending my quiet territory and my cup of coffee from the ravages of time. (Sip it fast or you won't get to drink it!) I just want to carve out a little something for myself that has nothing to do with managing their lives, but, of course, that means I need to get those things squared away first or I will return to a mess that was even bigger than before I left. And guess who will have to clean it up?
posted by Bree O'Connor at 12:16 PM
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