Except I had a 45-minute commute each way. I thought, I listened to music, I went over my day, straightened my thoughts, talked to friends and family. I had an hour and a half of highway driving all to myself.
What a glorious gift.
I thought often during those rides about how awesome my life would be if I could only be a stay at home mom. My housework would get done. My kids would be played with (God, I missed my kids). And I'd have so much time. I'd have an extra nine hours a day. With all that time every single day, how could things not be perfect?
Boy, was I wrong. I could try to sum it up, but I can never find the right words to explain why I can't keep everything immaculate, be clean and pretty, bake things, domestic goddess style, with two little cherubs who are never misbehaved because they get all the attention and love they need.
This woman did a pretty good job, so I'll leave it to her:
the link to a public facebook share of this column.
The most important point? The one I always forget and overlook? It takes 45 minutes to do what takes others 15 minutes. And that's being conservative. I would venture to say a 15-minute long task takes me an hour and a half.
As an example, this morning, I took a shower. The kids only interrupted me three times, and never for fighting. It was amazing. They'd bust in, tear open the curtain, hand me something or make a joke and go away. I'm hoping against hope that this is the beginning of a new era.
Previously, I could only take a shower late at night after they went to bed. If I tried during nap, it woke them up. If I tried while they were awake, even with my husband home, they'd badger and bother me the whole time, either making me take them with me and wash them too, or trying to hand me soap and shampoo and play with my razors. It was not relaxing. It was not cleansing. It was hard work. A shower. Hard work.
Not only is this mind-boggling, it's frustrating as hell. So that by the time you're done with your 90-minute chore (whatever it may be), you're no longer on top of your life, the invincible housewife, getting it done. You're haggard, upset, disheveled and wondering why you even bothered to try doing that duty in the first place.
This can be an ugly spiral. So, yes, the childless person who wrote that question, you can do all those things and work a nine-hour job. I can't. It's true. Way to stick the pin in even harder. Like I said, I can't explain it. I can only say that it's different, and it's harder and, yeah, a lot of the time I hate it, and I especially hate how alienating it is to my childless friends. But it's worth it. It's worth it, and it won't last like this forever. It can't, right? I mean even this morning I was able to take real-person shower. Like a real person. A shower.
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