There are days when I’m jealous of my husband. There. I said it. I watch him, as he kisses us, wishes us a good day, and leaves. I watch him and feelings that I don’t understand swirl around inside of me. Some days I want to cling to him and beg him to stay, “Just don’t leave me alone with them!” Other days I want to throw something at the door after he’s closed it. It’s not HIM (he’s quite a lovely husband actually). It’s not his fault. It’s not even about him at all. It’s me. Now, I know. I KNOW. I don’t really want to trade places with him. I’m lucky, blessed, etc. I know. And, most days, when he leaves, nothing happens. I’m fine. We’re fine (do I sound like I’m trying to convince you … or myself?). I’m happy to be home with my babies. I genuinely wouldn’t trade it or change it or have it any other way. I’m honored to be their mother and I’m thrilled that I get to be the one raising them. But. Oh, BUT there are days. Days when I’d give anything to kiss them all and leave. To drive somewhere (anywhere) in peace. In quiet! To pick up a coffee. ALONE. With no one crying or asking for juice as I try to order. Alone. Sigh. In my mind I drive to a quiet (am I saying quiet too often? I’m sensing a trend), lovely, little office where everything is white and pretty and where nothing is sticky and where everything is organized to a point border-lying on neurotic. Where I don’t trip over things on my way to the bathroom. Oh! Yes! Where I get to go to the bathroom alone too. Where music plays softly and I focus. I zone in (or out) on something and I simply don’t think.
Now, I don’t have to see a shrink to understand what’s going on here. I know perfectly well why I’m daydreaming about far-away, highly atypical office environments. Who daydreams about going to work anyways, right?! It’s so simple. It’s so obvious. Yet, the solution continues to elude me. I just need a little space. A little left for me. Something. Anything. Work – that’s not really what it’s about at all. Most days I want to be just where I am. Where chaos collides with love. Where I’m pushed to the brink of screaming … but pulled back in with kisses and giggles. Where mess mingles with imagination. Where piles of stuffed animals and blankets = nests of snuggle-buggleing (yes, that is a word). How could I possibly want to miss any of this? Oh, but I do long for a little bit leftover just for me. Then maybe, just maybe, I’d be a little better at it all. And, maybe also a little less jealous of my husband. 🙂