It ultimately hit me last night, and I crumbled in anger. The tears came later, but at that moment, filled with such rage that there was no place for the sadness to bubble up inside of me. There had been a nagging feeling the last few days, the kind that nibbles at your shoulder blades and gives you a soft ache in the bottom of your soul — an uncomfortable feeling when emotions manifest physically. I had not been able to put my finger on it, but I knew I was nearing my breaking point.
I climbed into our king bed, crisp white sheets, and there it was clear to me now. I was jealous of my husband. How did he not feel the burdening sense of doom that I did every Sunday night?
Is the house picked up?
Are Fritz’s diapers in the mudroom ready to go to daycare?
How long has his milk been in the fridge for?
What blanket should he bring to daycare this week? But also, second-guessing myself if it will be too hot for nap time.
How much fresh produce should I buy this week since we will be gone Thursday – Sunday?
Will I make it through daycare drop off without both of us in tears?
I had already apologized twice that day for my short temper. “I just feel like I’m always cleaning!” I said earlier. I was always cleaning; it wasn’t just a feeling. I am jealous that my husband isn’t bothered by the things I deem essential like clean counters, crumb-free floors, and toys put away that aren’t in use. To be fair, I don’t place value on a perfect lawn. But this made me angry! If I stopped doing the things I did, our household would fall apart! I could see no solution. If I stopped doing them, no one else would pick up the slack, and I would probably be wildly unhappy, still burned out and frustrated.
I’m exhausted and haunted by a pang of guilt that I feel this way. Apart of me feels like my husband and I are always playing an “If I do this, then you do that” game and making sure we are both even. Regrettably, when you play a game, someone will wind up losing.
Right now, the loser is me and the absurd standards I’m stringently living within.
I’ve always been Type-A, meticulous, and organized. Motherhood threw it into overdrive when it came to keeping the house clean. It was the one thing I felt I could control, but it now appeared that my obsession with an organized home and life was resulting in me taking on the burden of all of the household work.
I feel pathetic in this state of mind. How can chores and household tasks leaving me feeling so resentful? My husband helps out, he really does, but maybe I need to take on less and have him do more? When I see quotes that exclaim that becoming a working mother is the equivalent to working 2.5 fulltime jobs, I feel seen and heard because that is my reality.
Right now, I need to focus on letting go of the jealousy and focusing on our partnership. It shouldn’t be a competition; it should be camaraderie. Perhaps I need to give myself a break or create a chore chart. The bottom line these feelings start and end with me.
Moving into the end of this season I’m going to try and focus on the positives. A messy kitchen means a well-eaten meal, surrounded by love. A tipped over toy bin, a happy and curious baby. An unmade bed, a good night’s sleep. There can be crumbs, sand, and smudges and it will be ok. We will be fine and I might just be a little less jealous!
But, to be 100% transparent: I’m also going to have our housekeeper start coming bi-weekly again (sorry husband)!
