My husband recently started a new job. One that requires him to leave the house daily. When he told me the news around my eighth month of pregnancy, I nearly had a nervous breakdown. Up until that point, we both worked from home and were together a lot more than your average couple. And I liked it. I had already envisioned and planned our daily life raising Wito- tag team city.
So you can imagine how freaked out I was to hear that I would be home alone all day with the baby. All day and frankly, all evening as well. His new job requires him to spend a decent amount of time at client’s homes hobnobbing, drinking vintage wines and shopping in Los Angeles, so it isn’t surprising if he walks through the door well into the evening.
Last week, he didn’t get home until very late on both Monday and Tuesday. That was hard, especially since the mastitis was kicking in and I was feeling completely overwhelmed. D’s main job with the baby is to put him down at night. Wito isn’t too fussy, but sometimes it takes a couple of tries to ensure his slumber. As a separate entity, putting Wito down isn’t a huge deal. However, putting Wito down after 12 hours of taking care of his every need ALONE becomes a daunting task. A lady needs a break. Can I get a hell yeah, moms?
Long story short, last week sucked. I felt completely drained from taking care of him on my own and dealing with the fever and nuclear boobs. And as mature as I try to be, when the husband comes home after an evening of intelligent adult conversation complete with wine and incredible views of the Pacific Ocean, I can’t help but feel snubbed. Especially when a) I’d like to drink some wine, and b) the extent of my conversations during the day consist of “Ohh,bobobobobo” and “Who’s da beeeg boy, who’s da beeeg boy?”
On the other hand, I completely understand that his job will be the ticket to me staying home with Wito at some point. And as much work as this is, I want to stay home with him so badly. I don’t even allow the thought of returning to work after Thanksgiving to enter my head at this point. Total utter denial. And trust me, my job is a cakewalk compared to what I’m doing on a daily basis now. But my job means nothing to me…Wito means everything. Annnnd, cue the violins.
However, once in a blue moon, D is able work from home. Like today! Woot!
And you know what?
All I want is for him to get the hell out so he’ll quit walking around the damn house, loudly creaking the wood floors with every. single. step. DON’T YOU REALIZE THE BABY’S ASLEEP!? IF HE WAKES UP, THE WRATH OF SATAN WILL EMIT FROM HIS HOWLS!
You just can’t win.