As I notice my husband sleeping peacefully on the couch I can tell how relaxed he is by the way his arms are up over his head. As he snores softly I can think only one thing: I would like to smother him with a pillow. How dare he take a nap? How dare he relax? I would love to be relaxed enough to fall asleep in the middle of the day. But circumstances will not allow it. There is laundry to do, clutter to straighten, bloodshed to prevent.

A mother’s work is never done.

Why is it impossible for me to relax? I am so ready to be interrupted at any given moment that I hesitate to even start activities. I have half a dozen e-mails saved as drafts because just as soon as I am getting to the good part I am called upon to do something. It doesn’t matter whether or not I am qualified to do whatever it is. It only matters that I am Mommy.

I must try.

I believe when I was delirious after childbirth I must have signed something. Some sort of promise where I signed away all rights I once had to privacy and a life of my own. How else can I explain any of this?

I am aware that many (most) women have it harder than I do. I know I take a lot for granted. And yet… for the life of me I cannot imagine doing my assigned tasks without complaint. How can there possibly be this much to do? I am not a neat freak. My standards for just about everything are low. So how can I be appalled by the mess, dirt, smells, etc?

Simple things perplex me. How is it possible for my sons to hit something across the yard with rocks and still not get their pee into the toilet? Am I really washing the exact same articles of clothing over and over or are they reproducing in my hamper? What is that smell in the refrigerator?

I have books in my bookcase that I have never read all of the way through. These are books I had to return to the library after too many renewals so I bought them. There are parenting books, self-help books, books on meditation, spiritual enlightenment. I believe all of them hold the key to changing my life.

If only I had the time to sit down and read them.

A stranger recently informed me that these are the happiest times of my life. I hope not. If this is as good as it gets --- I am in big trouble. I don’t want to wish my children’s childhoods away, I love them, but there are times when I can’t wait for them to grow up and move out.

I need to look forward to better times.

I spend every minute of every day taking care of things. I make sure we never run out of anything. I anticipate every need of every member of my family. I ensure that they are safe and comfortable and basically taken care of. I feel like I am constantly working and yet… when do I get to relax and reflect on a job well done?

I have not gone five minutes without hearing some variation of “Mommy.” It is screamed, wailed, yelled, whined all day long. I cannot believe I have ever completed a full thought for almost eight years. I have not ever been alone in my own home for more than twenty-four hours.

I imagine running away. I think about which clothes I will take. What will I need? If only I could join the Witness Protection Program. I fantasize about relocating without any attachments.

By Cathy Burke

Labels: Cathy Burke

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