There are days where I wish I could be handed a pink slip and just let off the hook in parenting. You tried! Better luck in your next adventure!
Impending weekends used to be something we all looked forward to – lazy mornings, entire days with Aaron. Now I dread them. The three of us, seperate from Aaron, have made our own routines here. Not with out him, entirely. But he is gone an awful lot. We have a rhythm, I have a voice.
Weekends used to be a bit of respite as far as caring for children went. Cleaning the house, organizing and keeping our home together always went a little smoother on the weekends because I had help. Now I just feel like it’s required overtime.
Living in a smaller space the visual cleanliness just never seems to satisfy. Aaron usually spends most of his weekend “cleaning up the clutter” by moving around my systems for organization, rearranging rooms and becoming so restless with this situation and we all sit in a different corner for an hour or two wishing for a way to get away from this place.
I guess I’m writing about this because I know of a few friends who understand this feeling – being married to an Entrepreneur brings all kinds of other requirements with it. Some days are amazing – you’re all on top of the world. You’re actually going to make it – but the other 362 days of the year you’re on egg shells. You’re responsible for reading his mind, making the home (and children if you have them) mind themselves so there’s a sense of peace at the place he rests his head to have anxiety attacks and stress induced night sweats for the 6 hours you might get him all to yourself … but he’s never really there with you.
He’s battling how not to treat his family like his employees and how not treat his employees like his family. He’s guilt ridden over always wanting to be with the other half of his life, no matter where he is. At work? He want’s his children – at home, he can’t stop working.
But he’s a god to our children. No matter how many good moments we had in the day, their favorite part of it is when dad walks through the door. He’s Superman! He can wrestle and make forts, most of the time he can discipline and because they don’t constantly test his perameters – they respect his words faster than mine.
Don’t worry – he’ll pick up on this and generally give me tips on how I need to be a better version of the tired self I already am every single day.
Maybe you could look up things to do online? Get some ideas? You know, because I’m incapable of thinking of good ideas on my own. Maybe you could just call a Grandma for a few hours – “get a break”.
I realize these are all hard edges in my own armor that I also need to work on, but as any other wife of a guy with a mind like Aaron’s will tell you – it generally feels like we’ll be chipping away at our armor, constantly changing the way we see things in order to better deal with the reality that “tomorrow” is probably 15 more years away.
But tomorrow is Saturday and as much as I’d like to keep this ship going on my own terms, we’ll be in the thick of treading in shared waters tomorrow.
I’m just not sure how long I’ll last before my head bobbles below the surface and the fight to try again is weaker than the peace of the quiet beneath the chaos.