I'vw had this snippet of lyric stuck in my head for a few weeks. The post under them explains why.
Times when the day is like a play by Sartre,
when it seems a bookburning's in perfect order....
Afternoons will be measured out,
measured out, measured with
Coffeespoons and T.S. Eliot
I rarely expect to think up anything really new or revolutionary, especially when it comes to motherhood/housewife type stuff. I was reading Diary of a Reluctant Housewife tonight and her post pretty much echoes a lot of what I feel.
I’m going to be finishing up work on Wednesday and will be staying at home with the girls from now on. I’ve been trying to find work from home, but haven’t had any luck finding a paying gig. I got a sweet non-paying gig, which could, down the road, turn into something that brings in a bit of money, but for now, I’m gainfully unemployed.
For months, I’ve been saying how much I’m looking forward to this; to spending more time with my girls, to getting things done around the house, to gardening and going for walks and drawing with sidewalk chalk in the driveway and eating popsicles. But now that it’s almost upon me, I’m starting to freak out.
I’m worried that I won’t have the patience or the energy to deal with a very energetic toddler and a often-times moody 11 year-old. I’m worried that I’ll be left staring at 8, 10, 12 hours of day and wondering what the hell I’m going to do with them. I’m worried that I’ll plop them in front of the tv while I go have a meltdown about what I’ve done. I’m REALLY worried that when the new baby gets here, it will only get worse, because then it will be a newborn, a toddler and an often-times moody 11 year-old.
I’m worried that my life will be defined by poopy pants and temper tantrums, by loads of laundry and dirty dishes. That I will cease to be anything more than a stay at home mother, someone to be pitied because she’s let her kids take away her identity.
I’m worried that TCBIM will start to say things like “Well, you’re home all day, doing nothing, why don’t you....” and I will lose it. I’m worried that he’ll start to resent me for not bringing in a paycheck. I’m worried that I’ll start to feel like a whore, wondering if I have to have sex with him tonight so that I can get some grocery money in the morning - all of this happened with my ex-husband, so it’s not like I’m pulling this out of my ass.
The rational part of my brain knows that TCBIM is nothing like my ex-husband, that I am not in the horrible state of mind I was in back then and that I will have a car and friends and a normal town to live in. I won’t be worried about getting evicted - something that happened FIVE times while I was married to my ex.
But the irrational part of my brain has that 1,000 yard stare and is starting to panic and scramble and freak right the fuck out.
The baby is crying...and so it begins.