I watched a documentary on Gloria Steinem tonight, and it got me thinking about my idealistic 20s and gender roles and money and career and staying at home to raise my kids.
Flashback to earlier today, I cleaned up diarrhea for over five hours.
I am bone-tired.
I am a mother on autopilot.
Somedays, I don’t think my husband gets how damn hard this job is.
I love my kids, but sometimes I remember how much easier life was when I just had a job.
Being a mom is hard.
Being a mom to a kid with autism and a defiant two year old with a red ass and runny diarrhea is another story.
Some mornings while I am making the 100th meal from scratch that week, I envision me in a smart work suit. Waiting for my nanny to arrive. With freshly washed hair and makeup applied, out to door to make big decisions and bring home a fat paycheck and pound out glass ceiling and save the whales.
Wait, that fantasy stops short because I was an underpaid Chicago teacher.
I think, hell, it might be easier to “work outside the home” than “work inside the home”.
A friend of mine confessed to me, that at the end of her maternity leave, she was relieved to be going back to the office. “I can breathe there,” she said. “I can eat lunch in peace.”
I’ve been home over four years now. Where my career stands is seems as distant as my sons both being potty-trained.
My sense of self, “Nicolette”…is too busy washing dishes and putting away clothes and making doctor’s appointments and mixing supplements…
My eyebrows haven’t been plucked in weeks.
My hair hasn’t been cut since May? April? I’ve lost count.
My work clothes are tucked away in a trunk, because my uniform these days is jeans or yoga pants.
By the time I unpack said work clothes, I may as well rat my hair and bust out the shoulder pads.
Today, I eschewed my perfect Martha Stewart meal plan and made homemade from scratch waffles for dinner given that we have all of these food issues because I couldn’t get to the store because of the whole defiant two year old with diarrhea thing and the husband had a work dinner and
somedays I wish I could just hit a damn drive-thru
or order a pizza
take the night off
but I don’t have that option.
somedays, I just give up.
I am just tired.
So damn tired.