|View of the San Francisco skyline from Marin while having Sunday morning brunch.|
The problem is that diapers don't wait to be changed until Sunday, teeth don't wait to be brushed, and alphabet letters don't wait to be learned.
And after you work so hard, you come home to a wife that is struggling to be understanding while hoping for at least small reprieve (and a nap) with your presence. Instead, your advent most often turns into just another plate to set and then wash, another space taken up on the couch, a tv station I care not to watch, candy, soda, or ice cream that I would not give out so freely which leads to cries and temper-tantrums that would not normally exist without your aura in the room.
Through the screams and cries, I tell myself that things will get better. It's only temporary. I need to be a strong woman, but the truth is that the Superwoman facade is deceitful.
I can't do it alone.
I need help...
You redirect my insistence for help towards other family members who are more available. Even though this makes logical sense, it does not make emotional sense. There can only be 2 parents, and you are one of them. Yet I close my eyes when things get tough, and play pretend by placing myself in a single mother's shoes, and it gets me through the day.
And then you come home, ready for dinner....
Note: I wrote this a couple weeks back. I was definitely going through a little bout of depression. It might have been the new birth control pills that the doctor prescribed me at my 6-week post pregnancy check up. I'm OK now. Hubby's mantra towards me has been, "whatever makes you happy", lately and that's why my house interior is finally getting painted and we're very close to getting our flooring installed. LOL!
I don't feel this way anymore, but I wanted to post this because it was real when I felt it at the time... And it's OK to admit you need help as a mother sometimes.