My husband stays home with our kids. He is a musician at his core. He is a talented songwriter, guitarist and vocalist. I was proud to play live keyboards with him for his first band before we had kids. I always dreamed of marrying a rock star and I can honestly say that that dream came true. His songs are his truth.
Last spring he was asked to take over vocals for an electro-EBM band called Atomzero. After several months of songwriting, laying down tracks and finalizing production (all of this in between school drop offs and naps), they finished the EP, shot a video and released their album last week.
Two years old in a few weeks and he’s giving me more hassle than the other two before him combined.
He expertly climbed out of his crib a month ago. Happy as a pig in shit to do so. Ready for a big boy bed, it would seem. So a big boy bed he got. Trouble is now he won’t stay in it. Oh, eventually he’ll just tire at the gate and shuffle back to bed but when this happens at 1 am in the morning, it comes down to a battle of will.
“Maaaaama, I whan warhm miiiiilk.”
Me, softly, from my bedroom. “Go back to bed.”
Whining ensues. Tired whining.
Me: “Go back to bed.”
“No. Maaaaama. I hugry.”
A few more minutes of whining.
“Daaaaady. I whan warhm miiiilk.”
Sternly, “Go back to bed. Night night.”
This went on for over an hour. Eventually, his will broke and he found his way back to bed. Hmpfh. Hungry indeed. Just stay the fuck in bed, kid.
I sit at a bar in a lovely restaurant downtown enjoying an Aperol Spiritz. I am alone. It’s my birthday today.
Having been away on vacation for the past two weeks and the insanity that was work for weeks before that, it was impossible to think ahead and plan anything for today.
Husband suggested I take the afternoon to be alone and do whatever I wanted. He would make whatever I wanted for dinner and told me to come home whenever I wanted. I took him up on it and booked a late afternoon/early evening massage and facial at a spa I have been dying to go to for a while now.
I feel a little guilty. He told me not to. He hadn’t time either to plan anything so he said it was my day and wanted me to enjoy it.
I am sitting in a salon chair finally getting my hair done. It desperately needs some help and this was the only time I could fit it in. I
work this afternoon and then I am off for almost three weeks.
Three more hours of patient visits to go.
Three more hours of lab reports, consults and prescription renewals.
Three more hours of dealing with other people’s problems.
Yesterday I started to worry that I was getting depressed again. I suddenly just felt … I don’t know, I felt off. I felt like I just didn’t care about any of it anymore. I didn’t want to go home and face the chaos of trying to clean and pack and deal with the kids.
But then I got home and amongst the chaos and dirty faces and piles of laundry to fold, I felt immensely better. I was happy to be home. I can’t begin to describe how reassuring that was to feel. Despite the state of emergency that my house is currently in, I was happy to be home and in the middle of it.
I don’t need a break from my family, house or kids. I need a break from work.
I’m so fried right now, I can barely think straight.
The “baby” has learned how to climb out of his crib. He’ll be 2 next month. I’m not ready for him to be in a big-boy bed but he’s at risk for fracturing something if he keeps this up. And speaking of up, since he’s discovered this little trick, when he wakes up at 6am he no longer talks to himself in the crib. He gets out of this crib, opens his door and comes to my room. This morning he discovered there were monkeys on his pajamas.
“Yes, monkey,” I reply half-asleep.
(Louder) MOMMY!!!!! Monkey!!
(LOUDER) “DADDY!!! DADDDY! Monkey!”
“MOMMY! I hugry. Mommy! I HUGRY!”
“Too early for breakfast,” I mutter.
“DADDY! I hugry!”
“Okay,” in a very deep sleepy voice.
This goes on for about 10 minutes. I finally get up to get the kid some milk and the other two spawn are coming out of their room all bright-eye and bushy-tailed.
They are all smiles, “Hi Mommy! Can we go downstairs?”