I've been in one of those moods where I feel like...
If I have to hear one more baby cry.
If I have to wake up one more time in the night to put the blanket back on Scouty's bed.
If I have to watch one more kid's movie.
If I have to wipe one more meal of pureed sweet potatoes off of my clothing.
If I have to scrub one more smudge of baby barf from the carpet.
If I have to bend over to buckle one more car seat.
If I have to wrestle two slippery little eels through one more bath.
If I have to pick up one more squashed and dripping juicebox from the floor of the car.
If I have to talk in my Muno voice one more time.
I think I might actually lose my mind.
After my girls are in bed, if I turn on the tv and there's Dora's face staring at me, and oh god, the map is about to sing his song... I seriously scramble for the remote, a brick to throw, ANYTHING to keep from having to be subjected to ONE MORE SECOND of colorful kid world.
I get in these moods, but I think I probably need to cool it. I think it's probably not actually the fault of Nick Jr. that I feel this way. I need to recognize that this feeling is about me, and that's it. It doesn't actually have anything to do with my kids and their world.
The fact of the matter is, I'm a good mom. I'm a great mom, actually. I go all out. I sing entire songs alternating between all of the Gabba Gang's voices, and I do this for hours on end. I don't have days where I lay on the couch watching Dr. Phil, and trying to get my kids to play the Bring Mommy The Remote Game. I find it decidedly stressful to try to live an adult life while my children are awake and depending on me. I completely consider it my duty and privilege to read the same children's book one thousand times per week. I do. I wouldn't parent any other way.
Because I am a grown person. I'm even an aggressive grown person with defined interests and a highly developed sense of needing to stimulate and enjoy myself. (Not in a perverted way. I kind of lost interest in THAT half way through my pregnancy with #2, and it hasn't shown any hints of returning.) The simple truth is that I need time alone or I will turn into a mean wife who blames you for losing the headphones to my iPod and who sighs and turns all night long because you're hogging too much of my mattress space.
I love my girls and I love my husband, but I just can't be one of them all the time. I need to have thoughts that originate in my own head. I need to read adult books and write adult stories and be alone. How many years of parenting went by before I felt comfortable with the notion that sometimes I just need to not be mommy? And that it's okay?
So, before I start cursing the existence of Wow Wow Wubzy and Legos, I am going to forcefully and with purpose remove myself from my family for the evening as soon as my husband walks in the door. And I'm not doing any dishes before I go.
Because I know that it's my fault that I feel like everything else is driving me crazy. I know that there is going to be a time where I would give anything to have Louise clinging to me like I'm the only thing in the world who could possibly make her happy. I know that, in a few years, Scouty will be so grown that she wouldn't even consider asking me to play spy robots with her, and that will feel shitty. Because all of these kid things are magic. And they're so temporary. And if I'm walking around in a bad mood acting like they aren't, it's nobody's business but my own.