Every weekend I go into it feeling like I'm really going to get stuff DONE. I'm going to kick my to-do list's ass and I'm going to go into Monday bored because I will have already accomplished everything I needed to do.
Then Monday comes and I'm so grateful to have the kids back at school and Matt back at work. Not that I don't love them, because I do, but because by Sunday evening I realize that I might be mom and wife, but my most important role is that of house staff. I think they see me more as a maid, cook, and servant, and I'm not totally sure when this weird change has happened.
Don't get me wrong- it's not like I wait on people hand and foot because they know exactly where my foot will land if they ask. The kids have a pretty lengthy chore list and I'm pretty strict as far as not being a lazy ass all day. Yes, weekends are meant for relaxing but it's also the only time I really get help with the bigger things and frankly? I don't get a weekend. I don't get time off. People see me sitting down and then I get, "So, are you making supper?" or "Do you want me to bring laundry down?".
No bitches. I want you to be quiet and leave me alone for an hour. I'm asking for an hour a week. It's hardly selfish.
Things were particularly tense in the Strand house this weekend when on Saturday I finally lost it. Not so much with the kids because if I'm being honest, they were so great this weekend. They did their chores without me begging, they offered to help with other things, on Saturday morning they actually got Penelope out of her crib and brought her downstairs to watch cartoons so I could sleep for an extra half hour.
All super awesome, wonderful things.
The problem is Matt. I honestly think he believes that I sit at home all week with Penelope doing nothing. I sit with my feet up in the recliner, playing Candy Crush on my phone, watching show after show on Netflix, and I just chill all day every day. I think he gets that impression because that's basically what he does every second he is at home.
And before someone berates me for putting him down because he wants to relax after working 12-14 hour days- just stop it. I get that he works longs hours. I do, I appreciate it, I'm lucky he has a job and provides for his family.
It's just that I do, as well. I don't get paid and I don't have benefits or any kind of perks, but I work just as many hours, if not more, than him each and every day. I bust my ass all day. The reason this house is clean, we have food, we're able to eat the food, everyone has clean clothes, everyone is able to get where they need to be, and all of that? That's me. It's all me.
I keep trying to tell Matt I envy the fact he gets to leave the house. My life has now been reduced to being excited about needing laundry detergent and (finally!!) having a reason to leave the house. It's such a big deal that I spend 20 minutes during Penelope's nap putting on clean clothes, brushing my hair, putting makeup on, and actually make it feel like I'm going on a big outing. That's what it's come down to.
I'm excited about Walmart.
Don't even get me started on days I get to go to Target. Going to Target has now become like going to church the two times a year you really should, Christmas and Easter. Target is my church. I wear nice shoes and good underwear because the Duluth Target's parking lot is so bad I might actually need an ambulance after being hit by an inattentive driver. I try to prepare because no respectable person goes to Target with three day old underwear and no makeup.
I mean, come on.
But this weekend I really had it out with Matt. I get so frustrated that I have to tell him that he can't play games on his phone, and that if he wants Penelope to stop crying and grabbing at his phone, he needs to get on the floor and play with her. He's a super intelligent guy but honestly, he's the dumbest person I know when it comes to human interaction. He's actually the worst. Every day I stare at him thinking he probably really does have Asperger's because there has to be an explanation other than he's an asshole. I hate to think he chooses to be this way.
He said nothing. As usual. I honestly don't know why I even bother to talk to him, it's not like he retains anything or even cares to change things up a bit. But I swear to god, one of these days that damn phone is going to be missing and he's going to go through withdraw and it won't be good. I just wish my family would treat me better. It's not like I don't go above and beyond to make happy, safe lives for them. I really try hard. I have to ask, beg, and then plead with anyone to just do something without me asking. It never happens and for that next hour everyone is on their best behavior, hurriedly running around the house getting things done as if in a show to prove to me that they do indeed do something around the house. I'm at the point where I refuse to give accolades for doing anything because honestly, if I have to tell you, then beg, then lose my shit? You don't deserve praise. Be grateful we didn't all land on the news.