These were the words I uttered under my breath to my husband as we finally got the kids out the door to enjoy a sunny afternoon in the city.
"Do you mean parenthood?"
"Yeah, that, motherhood, all of this."
We woke up yesterday morning, albeit a little later than usual. We had a potluck party that was a great success the evening before. And what has become a bit of a tradition for us after a party, after we've plunked the kids to bed (or check that they've passed out and transport them to their beds), hubs and I sit back and enjoy a few more drinks and listen to some tunes. Just the two of us. My favourite part of the evening.
The morning was a glorious one. We had a few things we needed to clean up, so we did get a later start on the day. But we really wanted to do something together as a family. I went online to check if there was anything going on in the city. And of course there was. The day was planned.
After I came down out from my shower, I could hear voices, whining, angry tones coming from my 9 year old. Questioning words coming from the 4 year old. And my husband trying to negotiate and convince them that it would be fun. But no, they wanted to go to the park. At the school. Somewhere I go everyday; sometimes twice a day.
So as I popped my head out to ask what the latest plans were, I was told that we were no longer going into the city. I got into the action in a last ditch attempt, telling them that there would be buskers and so many neat things to see in a cool part of the city. Their Dad said that we could do both. But no, the boy hunkered down in his room; the girlie whined about her sand toys. Twenty minutes later we were still at an impasse.
I threw up my hands and just yelled "Fine. Go the park, I'm gonna skip it as I'm there with you everyday. I've got to get the stuff to make the bake sale items anyway."
Call it childish, selfish... but for once I wanted to do something that I wanted to do. I wanted to bring the kids with us, to experience the city with us. To get them out of the house; out of the neighbourhood, out of the burbs. A change of scenery, a respite from the daily treadmill which has become my life.
I lost it. I just started to cry. I felt silly, but it was cathartic as well. I often I feel that I am losing it, have lost it, that fundamental part of the equation: Me.
Everything is always a negotiation. A struggle to convince people to move, to listen. Cajoling, convincing, pleading, lecturing, guiltily "forcing" ... an uphill battle with the growing force of the children, who carry more and more weight as they get older. A battle that becomes more difficult to wage.
Hubs mentioned he'd have to work late again tonight, so I said to him that he HAD to confirm the dates for me to book tickets for our vacation plans. Today. I've been checking the flights, the fares etc. for well over a couple of months now, taking books out of the library, coming up with my own permutations and combinations based on dates that are "thereabouts". Thinking that I'd better book accomodations soon too.
Things are superbusy for the man at work, but every time I had brought up the subject of the flights, he'd say,"yeah, we've got to book it"... and I would wait again for a free moment with him. He's got a lot of travel on his plate, but this time with family is priority for him.
But honestly, I get sick of having to bug him all the time to sit down with me and solidify the dates. I hate sounding like a bitchy whiny hag which I feel is what I have become over the years. Because he doesn't listen to me as carefully as he should, he thinks nothing is ever a problem, laissez-faire is his M.O. Just in time. Everything always works out for him in the long run. And last I checked on Friday, the fares were the lowest I'd seen. But we had a crazy weekend, with ballet recitals, soccer, potluck etc... we had the stuff with the kids, and I mentioned it again, but didn't want to rag on him. Again. So I didn't.
This morning when he was sitting finally, giving the final dates to me, yeah, we should book it. And I popped into the website and lo and behold the price had jumped $$140 a ticket!!! That amounts to almost $500 more than it was the last time I bugged him about it just a couple days ago. It sickened me, it really did.
Here I am doing a happy dance when I save 50 cents on a loaf of bread at WalMart. And here he is saying, oh, don't worry about it, it is what it is, oops. If only he had really listened to me and sat down the previous 20 odd times I mentioned it; if only I had mentioned it yet again and nailed him to the chair and booked it on Friday night.
So again, I lost it. I went ballistic. I had another moment. When the hell did I become so goddam weepy?
It's not just the money. It's the fact that I'm always having to go after him to make these commitments, make plans, for us, not just for me, for us and two kids who rely on us. I'm tired of it. His work is important, I know, and that's what brings home the major bacon right now. I tread real lightly because of this. But in the whole scenario, my voice comes last. Or at least it seriously feels that way.
I'm afraid of becoming a wailing, nagging, haggy bitch. Or maybe even a whore. pit viper. Which is what I am these days to my kids, my husband.
I. HATE. IT.
I hate what I'm becoming. What I've become.
It bothers me, because seriously, I have a great life. I have a wonderful husband, great kids, a lovely, loving home. People who love me. And for the most part, my health. It feels so wrong to feel this way.
Why can't I just let things roll? Why can't I go for the ride, take things as they come, be less stressed about everything? Why can't I stop teaching my kids swear words in the car? Why do I have this honking boil growing in the middle of my forehead? Why does it only take a couple of drinks to give me a hangover these days? Is this what staying up past midnight baking three loaves of banana bread and individually wrapping 36 slices, will do to me?
At this rate, I'm sure I've shaved 10 years off my life.
(Boy was contrite. Hubs has acknowledged that he needs to listen to me more. He thinks I need to work out again, he sees my head spinning at 100 mph, turning red and emitting steam from the ears. He doesn't fancy that look on me either.)
That's the official video. I think I need to tone it down to this level, though.