All. day. long. I anxiously await the moment I hear the garage door and Connor saying, “Daddy’s home, Mommy!”. I spend all day dreaming of the things I could do when Matt walks through the door. All the work I could get done, all of the books I could be reading, the walks I could be taking solo, the places I could go shopping, the bed I could be sleeping in…
All those things seem so wonderful, but they are, for the most part, just dreams. The things I really want by the time my husband arrives home every day? Hmmm…not be used as a jungle gym, not have to say no a million times and be the one to enforce time out, consequences, etc., not change another diaper or have to stop whatever I am doing, no matter how important, to run to the potty when the 2 year old calls. It’s the simple things that when Daddy gets home, he takes over and I get a break.
So, then it happens. The garage door starts to open, Connor announces that Daddy’s home and Gigi heads toward the door to be the first to greet him while Connor looks out the window to make sure it really is Daddy (which he announces for a second time, every day, like it’s a surprise)….and then Daddy walks through the door.
The switch has been flipped and we go into Daddy mode. It’s amazing for about 30 minutes.
Wait, what? Only 30 minutes?? Yup. It takes me about half an hour before I attempt to do something or ask the kids a question and I get the push away or the “no, daddy do it.” And then my mommy ego gets bruised. It’s ridiculous. It’s absurd. No, really. It is. All day long, all I want is a little time and space and then, not only do I have a husband wiling to give me the time, I have children that are eager to focus on only Daddy. But when they openly choose daddy over mommy I’m like (in my head of course), hey kid…if it weren’t for mommy you wouldn’t have eaten today, or been dressed, or gone and done all of those super awesome things we did…even if it was just playing in the toy room. C’mon give Mommy a little love here, you know it’s gonna be me that you want in the middle of the night and first thing tomorrow morning..
Now, I love that my children love their father and want to play with him. Actually, there are fewer things in the world that make me happier than watching the three of them interact and play. It’s just that blatant rejection gets me sometimes. Not all the time…just sometimes.
This is part of a bigger problem for me, though. As a stay at home/work from home mom, I’m rarely without my children and I crave the solo moments, the quiet car, the uninterrupted sleep and the ability to just be. But when it’s my turn to sleep in, I lay in the bedroom listening to the laughter and loud play that is going on without me. When I’m in the car by myself, instead of appreciating the silence I think about all of the chattering that would be happening if they were with me. When I get to go to the grocery store alone, I realize how boring it is to walk down the aisles without playing defense.
Again, don’t get me wrong, I take the breaks because I need the breaks and appreciate them despite missing my children. But, the question remains, why cannot I not take the break I want so badly without be consumed by guilt, flooded by thoughts of my family and what I might be missing when I’m away?
I guess it’s because I love them unlike I have ever loved anything in my life. They are my babies, my heart, my soul, my purpose.