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Give Me Back My Groove |
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| May 21, 2009
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I've lost my groove. There was a time when I felt like I was in control of my life. I was able to put in my hours at work and actually get things done. I was able to be a good wife and mother and take care of my family. I had time to take care of myself, too. No, I haven't gone crazy. Well...maybe just a little crazy. I'm blaming hormones. Lately I have no ambition to do anything buy nap on the couch and watch reruns of Cold Case Files. When I'm not plugging away at work, you'll find me crying because the house is a mess and my son isn't listening and the dog keeps leaving his chew toys all over the hallway and there are toys strewn across the living room floor and my husband left his socks on the coffee table and oh my God I need to disinfect the coffee table and holy crap if I have to repeat myself one more time I'm going to jump out the dining room window. Instead, I beg the child to put his toys away, I yell at the husband to put his socks in the hamper and I yell at the dog to put his chew toys away. Then I realize the dog doesn't speak crazy and has no idea why I'm always yelling. Come to think of it, my husband and son have no idea why I'm always yelling either. I blame hormones. To be honest, nothing in my life has changed other than being pregnant. I'm still working the same hours. I'm still cleaning the same house. I'm still parenting the same child. I'm still trying to find balance. (Balance. It really is a myth isn't it? Does such a thing exist, and haven't we hashed this out before?) The other day I sat on my living room floor sorting laundry. As I folded shirts and matched socks, I thought about all the things I had to get done. Other than making sure my family has clean clothes, I also do most of the house cleaning, all of the grocery shopping, all of the bill paying, and most of the child rearing. Since I work from home, my husband assumes that when I've put in my hours at work, obviously I'll do the housework, shopping and errand running. I feel like June Cleaver without the perfect chignon and fancy apron. June Cleaver didn't have to tell the Beav to stop throwing his toys down the stairs. She didn't have to check her e-mail 15 times each day to make sure she didn't miss important work updates. June Cleaver didn't wake up seven times each night to use the bathroom or get a class of water or calm a child who just had a nightmare. June Cleaver never lost her groove. But alas, June Cleaver is a fictional character. I live in the real world where crap happens and life isn't always perfect. So what if I've lost my mojo. I'll find it again, eventually. Like, when my children are old enough to take care of themselves. It will happen. Right? | ||
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1. Maggie
May 21, 2009 19:28
sounds like your husband needs to pick up some of the slack, you know, help you balance things out a little2. burnedhusk
Jun 06, 2009 10:16
and try being 45 and unemployed; two active boys, 3 and 5...yes, we had a neat home years ago. now dried bits of food are under all furniture; territorial demands accompany every meal; the bathroom resembles those of the 1970s gas stations on the docks. we collapse in surly exhaustion at night and awake feeling even more tired. our lawn is the worst on the street and the garage is crowded with 'projects' my wife is going to get to some day. fun...3. burnedhusk
Jun 08, 2009 10:33
and so, days go by. my hair becomes grayer; the circles under my eyes become darker; i become sleepy at 2 pm. my carefree, earth-girl wife has cut her hair short but neglects most other hygeine. her stern growl threatens the kids- and me. every meal seems to require utilizing giant metal bowls, and i get to wash them. yes, i'm going out on interviews and trying to remain positive. but the other day an acquaintance volunteered that i 'looked tired'. and in my new field, you can't get hired without experience. but i don't have any, so i can't get hired. if i stay home much more, there may be an eruption.4. burnedhusk
Jun 18, 2009 10:14
8 am. instant screaming argument between 3 year-old and 5 year-old as to who would wear the skeleton costume and who would wear the spiderman suit. 3 year-old rages with executive fury until collapsing into crying/wailing. mother urging fighters to get control of themselves. father [me] thinking that we'll all look back on this in 5 years and laugh. but the daily bombastic drama of any young boy will wear anyone down...