It’s not that I’m bitter. I’m not. But you must know that one day you will know what I know. You’ll feel what I feel and experience all that I have. You’ll know the exhaustion from being up all hours of the night for weeks in a row, feeling feverish brows, poking thermometers under arms and up rectums. The tiredness that comes from rising early and bedding down late, from trying in vain to keep a moderately tidy home and semi-clean kids and clothing. You’ll know what it’s like to crave just a little bit, even a half hour, of quiet time for yourself. A time where you aren’t being suckled, poked, prodded or blessedly hugged or ceaselessly questioned. A time when you don’t have to wipe noses, mouths or butts repeatedly. A time when you aren’t raising your voice trying in vain to get a little one to lower theirs. Just a moment of time and space where you can collect your thoughts and sip a scalding hot coffee or nicely chilled wine in peace. Someday you’ll know the frustration of having the “other” walk out on you time and time again leaving you with dishes piled high, children sick and feverish, homework undone, bags unpacked, chores left undone while they go off on their own excursions because they “need a break”.
Seven days a week I work and I run and I run and I run. I get no time to myself, not even for base needs. I have either someone in my arms when I pee or someone walking in to tell me something that absolutely cannot wait.