As I sit on the floor in our bedroom, listening to the sweet snoring of our “needy” baby, I have felt every negative emotion under the sun. Frustration, anxious, annoyed, irritated, lonely, overwhelmed. The list could probably go on and on. I’m actually quite surprised as Monday’s are typically easier. This Monday is the exception.
*note to self: transition baby from RNP to Crib and/or pack n play equals hard.
But I’m sitting here- folding laundry. And I’ll never forget something I read once about doing your husbands laundry. How it helps you remember the hard work, the long hours, the sacrifices in times of greater frustrations. As I watched your pile of folded clothes grow and grow, while my pile stayed the same (couple pairs of yoga pants- lets be honest, I don’t “get dressed” while you’re away), I again remembered that I am lucky that you work so hard so that I don’t have to. You make loads of sacrifices so that I don’t have to.
We’re going on 6 full weeks of this routine, and you’d think that by now- I would know how to manage. But I don’t. In fact, I’m increasingly frustrated with myself that I lack the ability to adapt and adapt well. Let’s just say: I’m ready for my husband to be home.
Yup- you heard me. I’m tired of “sucking it up cause being a mommy is hard work”. I’m tired of “let the house chores go, laundry can wait”. I’m tired of holding it all together, going to bed alone, and most of all, I’m ready to feel like I have my teammate back. I salute those who parent alone, cause this momma was not cut out for it. I depend on my husband so much. Even if it’s just relief from a crabby baby, or a quick smile of encouragement. Or those nights when Crosby decides he wants to party instead of sleep: I need my person to tag-team it with me.
So yeah- I’m over it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m beyond thankful for the financial provisions, I’m beyond thankful for a great, stable job that allows us to have everything we need and then some. I’m so thankful for an able husband who can work, who likes working! There is much to be thankful for. But there’s also much to be missed.
6 weeks is hard. I’m not sure when the “end” is coming. Maybe soon, maybe not. Crosby and I miss you, Connor.