I’m tired. I’m tired of being the maid. I’m tired of being the schedule manager. I’m tired of being the go-to parent. I’m tired of being a working parent. I’m tired of being the family cook. I’m tired of being the constant entertainment. I’m tired of getting mad at myself for being tired. I’m tired of being too tired for sex.
I’m tired of being tired.
Days come and go, and my life has become the same thing day in and day out. Saturday mornings, we wake up and get the kids set up with a show or two, and begin breakfast for the family. Preparing a well-rounded meal, courtesy of my 2-hour meal planning two nights prior, and not to mention the hours I spend in the stores making sure we have all the toiletries and hair products needed for the upcoming weeks. After the entire family comes to the table, eats so quickly I feel like I am on a game show, it’s time to clean up the explosion of food that now covers my dining room table, hardwood floors, and the occasional wall or two. I may or may not get to the dishes then, but I know they are haunting my future at some point during the day.
The weekend continues, Dad rests on the couch watching Sports Center, reading an article or two, or maybe takes a catnap. And you can’t forget the trip to the bathroom that takes as long as an episode of Paw Patrol. What am I doing? I am entertaining the kids. I’m in the other room coming up with new and creative ways to play with their toys. Teaching them how to do puzzles, think creatively, role play, and problem solve.
As the day continues and I play snack chef and try to name 14 things that my kid could eat for snack for him only to decide on the very first idea that came out of my mouth. I create new games out of old toys to try to increase excitement, rather than hear the constant battle of “She stole my toy.” I play referee until lunchtime rolls around when my other job, as a chef, chimes in. I then watch the battle: Vegetables vs. Child. We always know who loses in this situation, Mom, as I am the only one fighting the child.
My alter ego, “Mean Mom” comes out when I have to be the one to say those magic words to my ears only, “It is bedtime.” then I get the look of death from my kids like I am the only one wishing they would put themselves to bed tonight, as my husband is just casually texting on his phone. I wrangle the kids up for the occasional bath and the overly long routine to get into bed after asking them to clean up their toys.
Then after those [sweet], little eyes are shut, and my next job begins.
I clean up dishes, sweep/mop up the dried fruit stains off the floor, not to mention fold some laundry that has been sitting in the basket on the couch for a solid three days, and make the extremely long “To Do” list for the next day. “When will things slow down?” I ask myself. “When will I stop caring about the ketchup stains on my white cabinets?” “When will gender roles change, and I can be the one sitting on the couch watching sports or the news while he picks up at the end of the day?”
Planning my never-ending To-Do list for the week and things include calling to make dentist, doctor, and hair appointments for the entire family. They include cleaning floors, dusting, cleaning bathrooms, and changing sheets. The list also includes projects like pulling weeds and going through clothes that my kids have outgrown. They often contain work-related items I didn’t get to during the work day.
What do I want from all of this? I want the stigma that a mom has to “do it all” to go away. I want the men in the world to take a long hard look at their significant other to see how much they truly are managing and how full their plate is. How can they step in to take some of the weight off? I want them to understand and feel what their wives feel when they reject sex for the third night in a row. Women are tired. I want women to feel empowered to find a healthy solution that makes everyone happy, and we break the modern stereotypes that women have to do it all.