Sometimes it feels like I work harder as a parent in our little suburban family than my husband. Sometimes I think I’m just feeling sorry for myself. But the truth is, I’m jealous of my husband’s free time. And nothing anyone says can change that unreasonable and unfair feeling.
A regular day for me (a working, blogging, pregnant mom of 2) looks a lot like this – try to get up before the kids to have some time alone with my coffee at 5am; juggle getting ready for work with getting breakfast into 2 little girls; spend half an hour telling my husband to wake up; commute over an hour to a busy corporate job; hurry to leave on time every day to pick up my kids from daycare; do the nightly routine of dinner, dishes, chores, baths and playtime before getting the kids to bed; collapse at 9 or 10 from sheer exhaustion.
In my mind, my husband has it easy – play with the kids for a few hours in the morning, before taking them to preschool and daycare around noon. Then he has 2 glorious hours of free time with no kids to worry about before he heads off to his job as a restaurant manager.
I don’t think he realizes how jealous I am of those few hours every day. He works hard taking care of the kids and working to support our family. I’m sure if I asked him what his day actually looked like, it would be more stressful and filled than my ideal view of his life makes it seem. But I can’t fight the feeling, even though I know it’s unfair, that he has it easier than I do.
Maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones talking, which is completely likely. From a physical aspect, I really do have it harder right now. I’m 7 months pregnant at the moment and feeling every bit of this baby inside me. I’m getting to the “nothing fits, even maternity clothes” stage and just walking down the street is sometimes a struggle. I feels like everything is ten times harder than it used to be before I got pregnant. So, of course I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.
I wish I had an extra 2 hours in my day to do whatever I wanted. I could go shopping at Target by myself. I could spend some time cleaning the house without two little people creating a mess in another room. I could take an extra long shower and maybe shave my legs (maybe).
But I don’t. So I’ll sit here and feel sorry for myself and my hairy legs. Maybe in a few years when the kids are older, I’ll get some “free time” back in my life and then I’ll wonder what in the world to do without my kids needing me 24/7.