It's 8.15 on a sunny Spring Sunday morning. The birds are singing and I just want to open the window and SCREEEEEEAAAAAAAAM. Loudly. But I won't. I'll just let it build up in my head.
I went downstairs to make a cup of tea and sit for a while. On my own. Two minutes later the husband has sent the children down. I'm annoyed at this. I feel like the Pied Piper with a trail of children behind me all the time. I am now back upstairs banging these words out while they are in my head before the children realise I am not within 2 metres of them. All I want now is space. And peace. And quiet. I'm not going to get it. The husband is in work today. Tomorrow I have planned to take the children to Sheffield to see their big cousins. Right now the thought of driving them all that way in the confined space of a car makes me want to poke cocktail sticks in my eyes.
I feel suffocated. That's the word I've been looking for all this time when discussing things arguing with the husband. Why has it only just come to me now? I feel suffocated by being a mum and all that it entails. I am fed up with everything being on me. Childcare, school run, washing, ironing, cleaning, supermarket shop, taxi for clubs. Child is ill - I have to sort out the logistics for getting the other one to school, preschool, clubs.... Husband stays out - I'm here for the children.
I resent his freedom. The freedom to decide he'll just pop into the pub on the way home from work. The freedom to say he's going out with his work. The freedom to not come back and stay out all night. The freedom to go out on a 'quick' bike ride. The freedom to go to work during the holidays. Sometimes I feel it's avoidance.
I think I've been suffering from SAHMitis, a common condition I fear, where Mums, or Dads, that stay home get fed up. Simple as that. But after the Easter holiday I will no longer be carrying that title, I'll be going back to work 5 mornings a week. So what's my title now? Working Mum I guess. Will that give me the perks of freedom that Working Dad has? I doubt it very much for I'll be working part time. Bringing in a few extra pennies for the household pot. The children will still be my responsibility pretty much 100%.
I know I made the choice, with my husband, to have children and I would never change that. My children are my world. I know there are women absolutely desperate to have children whom, for whatever reason, it is never going to happen. I thank God that I have never had to go through that emotional turmoil. Reading this article in yesterday's Guardian made me feel guilty at first for all of the above, then it annoyed me. Yes, I had the choice to have children and was blessed to get pregnant when I wanted to. But Motherhood is a damn sight harder than I ever dreamed it would be and I have the right to have a bloody good moan about it without being made to feel guilty about it. I apologise if that sounds harsh but if I didn't moan I would be an absolute wreck and a pretty shitty mother. Which I am not. I am a good mother but at times I find it suffocating.
Here endeth the moaning. For now.
Thanks for listening x
I would love to hear your opinions on the Guardian article and any of the above.
