in which I admit…

March 8, 2012

I really hate to admit it, but I’m ridiculous and I thought that perhaps, if I should write it out like a somewhat humorous but also true confession, it may improve. I mean, maybe I’ll stop making no sense about this particular thing.

Ahem. Here it goes:

I have to stop myself from getting really mad at my husband for nothing. A lot.

It’s always about the kids. This insanity takes me over and I don’t know, I guess it’s because  I’m with the kids most of the time. I seem to have this belief that when Ryan’s home from work, he should be completely taking over everything and anything and all things related to child care at every single moment forever and ever amen.  I mean, until he leaves.

So…if he starts to make himself some food, I’m all, Why are you doing that? Now? The boys need a bath…or Elsie needs to be fed…or or or…Or, get this! If he sits down to set the timer on the DVR thingy to record something, not even to watch a show, I’m all HURRY UP. OR, if he dares go to the bathroom or take a shower, I stomp around for a little while. Until I remember that I’m being completely irrational and totally insane.

I told you I hate to admit it. (Please don’t judge, I’m in a fragile state. heh.)

Maybe this is because I’m a high anxiety person (especially lately). Or maybe it’s just the feeling that many stay at home moms have. The one that, even though we love what we do, we sometimes can’t breathe and so when another adult enters the scene we want every single breath we take to be set apart from doing all the usual things.

Whatever the reason, exactly, I find I’m all too often still martyring, even though I KNOW BETTER. I can’t seem to get it under control, at least not in the baby stage, when I’m awake way too much and needed even when I’m not awake. Elsie is (thankfully) very very attached to me and I love that, but it also means that she doesn’t like me to put her down and she finds her way to me no matter what. I mean, if the girl is in her walker and I go to take a shower, alone, she rams her walker into the door over and over. Not even kidding. And she knocks. She’s nine months old and she knocks at any door her mother is behind. This totally entertains me and also leaves me understanding why I need my breaths when I can take them.

The thing is, Ryan is not at all deserving of this craziness. He’s not at ALL one of those dads that just does his own thing, in his own world. So let this be a public apology to the man who is the most hands-on dad I’ve ever known. The guy who deserves all the credit for all the hours he spends with our children, feeding, bathing and playing and directing and carting around. He’s an absolutely stellar partner in parenting and I really should allow him to take a shower in peace.  One day, I too will shower in peace, and I will look back and forgive myself for my irrational ways because I’ll understand that this season was just plain hard. That’s why Ryan always forgives me when insanity takes me over, and for that, I’m forever grateful.


P.S. I would also like to publicly remind my dear husband (who I endearingly like to refer to as Taco Head) that this silliness of mine did get better as the boys got older. It will surely get better as Elsie gets older, too. You know, in like three years.  Don’t worry, Taco Head, you know what they say, it goes so fast!


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