see, i have this problem. it’s that i tend to have so much shit going on that taking time for myself feels, well, completely over-the-top selfish and irresponsible. i have this blog, the ed blog, my bookkeeping (which is like, 30 hours a week), zoë (who is more than full time), housework, cooking, trying to hold the pieces of terra that are coming apart at the seams together, my relationships outside of zoë and me. it all seems like too much sometimes.
and you know, there’s people out there, people with kids, who get some days off. their parents take their kids on an overnight, or they get babysitters for some amassed amount of time, or their spouses take over and let them do their thing. and yes, i’m slightly embittered that i don’t have that.
no, zoë’s grandparents have never offered to take her for longer than a couple of hours – and that’s when i’ve asked, and it’s only been twice, ever. nope, having a babysitter for any length of time longer than a couple hours means moolah i don’t have and time she isn’t willing to give up. and no, no spouse. and the former one, well, he’s not exactly in the right place to take over for some full-time zoë tending. at least not in my books, and i am an anal-retentive, judgemental bitch. so.
but you know the biggest thing i resent? it’s not how much work constantly zoë is. that when my friend’s kids are running and jumping and playing on grass and in sandboxes, she’s trying to climb the monkey bars set up over a pit of alligators being bitten by hungry paranahas.
it’s that no one seems to notice that the rest of life outside of that very constant zoë time and often during it, too, is a full-time gig.
so i get sarcastic and bitchy when someone who has two days a week off of their job complains to me about having to do two loads of laundry and go grocery shopping – because yes, it sucks that you don’t get to just sit there on your two days off and do nothing but really, don’t you think it’s insensitive to mention it whatsoever to me, knowing that there is really no break and hasn’t been for a long time.
like a year and a half.
sleeping in is getting eight hours, semi-solid. two loads of laundry is done every three days, at least. grocery shopping takes place every other day cuz have you tried carrying groceries up three flights of stairs with a baby who will not climb them and so you have to carry her and so she decides it is fun to lean waaaay back and hang upside-down? it’s awesomely impossible.
but what really bothers me?
that these people who don’t see more to me than a mommy resentful of my child’s will (which i am also in love with) also don’t respect or see that i only have so much fucking time and you are wasting it when you are late. when we are waiting for you. when i could be using nap time to work and instead have to visit. when i have 50,000 plates spinning in the air and i say i have to keep them spinning or they’ll fall and it will mean oh maybe, not having rent or food money and it still doesn’t phase. when i cannot say no when you invite yourself over because i know it will hurt and offend you. because i’ve said it before, and it was blatantly ignored.
and then. i don’t even get a good bye.
(this post was brought to you by the word doormat. and does not call for comments such as “i’m sorry you’re having such a rough time.”)
