I am able to think more clearly today than yesterday. I apologize for the rant. I keep having mild panic attacks about going back to work. How will I parent effectively? How will I maintain our household? Where’s my to-do list?
What I was trying to make a point about yesterday, but was sidetracked by my anxiety, was how differently I approach working from my husband. I have mad amounts of stress and guilt attached to my working. Moxie is up all night? It’s because I work. Tallulah having a temper tantrum? She misses her mommy. The dishes undone and dirty laundry piled up? I can’t get to it because of work. Which is not exactly fair to any of these scenarios. Tallulah has been known to have a temper tantrum or two (or million) even before I started back to work. And the laundry has been known to pile up, even when I was a devoted housewife. And Moxie… no, Moxie has been perfectly reasonable and even-tempered. Even now she is perfectly reasonable and even-tempered. She sleeps more during the days when I’m working and then stays awake at night for quality nursing and mommy time. She even eats less during the day when a bottle is the only option. Which is perfectly reasonable unless, of course, I insist on sleeping, too, as well as working.
But I am racked with guilt and internal conflict. I need to balance my time. I need to give each child personal attention. I need to keep the household managed. I need to make sure there is enough food, laundry, diapers, and whatever else our family needs even when I am not there. And then I need to call frequently to make sure everything is running smoothly.
My husband, on the other hand, leaves in the morning and returns at night easy with the knowledge that if there isn’t food in the house, I will go get some. If the laundry has piled up to the point of no clothing or diapers, I will wash some. If the children are edgy and need new stimulation, I will find them something to do. And when he comes home, he is happy to see us. He doesn’t attribute my bad mood or the children’s cranky attitude to anything other than a passing phase or mood. He does what he can to calm and cheer us up, then moves on to the next activity.
He is a genius.
He is infuriating.
Why do I not possess this skill? Why do I make myself crazy, panic-stricken, and stressed? Is it hormonal? Some feminine gene that stays inactive until my egg is fertilized, then bursts to life with motherhood? Because I swear I wasn’t crazy like this before kids.
Musings of Motherhood
About Me
- Kellie Bonifield
- Supporting characters: Kent, husband extraordinaire with, thankfully, a wonderful set of genes including strong cheekbones and the ability to eat anything and stay slim and muscle-y which has been inherited by... Tallulah, a blond curled, angelic looking four and a half year old with a huge smile and penchant for action. She often, to my dismay, demands to be called a princess-- but only if princesses run, jump, climb trees, defend friends from bullies, and are always right. Moxie, the baby. Organized and schedule oriented, Moxie will be recieving a drool-impervious day planner for her first birthday. She is bemused by her sister's antics and often hums herself to sleep.
