I am sorry.
I’m sorry that you’ve been neglected for the last four-and-a-half years. I’m sorry that your needs are secondary. I assure you, you are still one of my top priorities–you simply aren’t on the upper part of the list anymore.
I know that you have needs, craves, daydreams and desires. When I tell you that I want to be the one you lean on, I entail it. I know you are tired of my excuses of being tired, having a headache or am already snoring when you snuggle up next to me. Trust me, I wish I had the energy I had five years ago. Hell, I wish I had the energy I had two weeks ago when I rinsed, folded and actually put away all 10 loads of laundry. Of course, you didn’t see that because I was letting you get some much-needed sleep.
I are well aware that some periods it feels like we have a business partnership. And you’re right. Some days–even weeks–feel that behavior. Know that I crave better for our wedlock, for us. Because together, “weve been” damn good.
The problem is, “peoples lives”, my brain and my body are so wrapped up in being a mom to those little sons who seem exactly like you. Even after they’re sound asleep and we’re sitting on the couch watching a movie, my brain is still in mom mode.
I’m thinking about tomorrow; I’m thinking about 10 years from now. I’m wondering if you have work clothes for tomorrow. I’m worried about money, milestones and milk. Do we have enough milk? I can’t turn off being a mom. It is who I am now. And it is physically, emotionally and mentally exhausting.
I don’t want you to think you aren’t as important as you once were. I couldn’t live this life without you and I wouldn’t wishes to, either. But the simple reality is, you’re an adult and you can do things for yourself. You can vote, so you can attain your own lunch. You are legally able to drive a car, so you can figure out how to make a doctor’s appointment.
When you come home from study, you, regrettably, are getting the worst version of me. I devoted most children the best. A little secret: Sometimes, some periods, there only isn’t a best version of me. There just isn’t.
I can’t worry about your health, the boys’ health, the pet’s health and my health. Who do you think get ignored? It’s not you. It’s not our children or our pets. When I say I don’t feel well, when I say I haven’t been sleeping, it’s because I haven’t been taking care of me.
Yes, you tell me to go to the doctor, to eat better, to booze more sea, but I am my very last priority. I know I need to change that and I’m not grumbling. I’m explaining that when something has to give, because no one person can do it all, I am the thing that gives.
I’m worried about your sleep apnea, your allergies, your knee spasms. I am worried about the rash Alex has, and the snotty nose that Ben abruptly started with. I am concerned about our dog’s ears and what it’s going to cost to take her to the vet.
While I’m thinking about it, I’m worried that the fish have too much algae in their tank and the sea needs to be changed. I’ll just add that to the never-ending listing of things I will feel guilty about when I am trying to sleep tonight. None of this your fault. I am not blaming you, or wishing you were any different.
You do extraordinary things for our household. You has worked hard to than any person I know. You care more about everyone, including me, than any other human I have ever met. I love you a little more each time I see you help someone knowing you are able to never get anything in return. You are the kindest, most desiring father to our children. There is a reason they exclaim when “youre leaving” for run. Yes, it stings a little, but knowing that you are their role model in life fills me with adoration and pride.
I am not the person you wedded 11 years ago. I have changed and evolved into a spouse, mother, friend and keeper of all schedules. I am a party planner and a personal shopper. I am a chef specializing in chicken nuggets and pasta. I am a housekeeper that can’t maintain a mansion. I am the cheerleader and the librarian. I am the nighttime and the day nurse.
I wouldn’t change any of it. I don’t want any other life. I love you and I enjoy “peoples lives” that we created. But I am not the spontaneous, beer booze, sexy bad girl you met route back when. I am a mother. And it is all of me.