I try to be. And if good intentions counted, I’d be all set. Good intentions – and I do really, really love him. But it struck me a few minutes ago, as I sat and tried to decompress after two solid hours of the kids fighting and yelling and complaining and cleaning and all sorts of the joys that come from having two kids at home, stuck inside a small apartment, and an overtired, pregnant, sore mommy – that it used to be that a stay at home mom and wife would get all dressed up for her husband, make sure the children were bathed and clean and pretty and she had a martini waiting for her husband when he walked thru the door. My poor husband gets clobbered the second he comes in, with the two kids screaming with joy and tackling him before he puts down his lunch bag. And a weary wife, who’s honestly so grateful for the reprieve – another adult here to take over and give her a break. And that’s not right – I should be all cheerful and friendly and delighted to see him, just because he’s who he is – and he’s wonderful. I shouldn’t just throw the kids at him and then go lay down for a while.
I do attempt to do good wife things – I want for him to be happy. I do his laundry, and make sure he has a nice hot supper waiting for him. I clean the house, sort of, well, I try, but it’s hard with Sam constantly taking the couch apart to make a fort and Jessie’s art projects all over the place. And mostly, the dinner is cold by the time he gets around to eating it – but hey, that’s what we have a microwave for, right?
So, Marc, if you’re reading this (and I know you are), please know that I have the very best of intentions – and I do love you more than anything. I’m sorry you don’t get a martini and freshly scrubbed kids and a smiling wife. But even though your kids have dirty faces, they’re truly delighted to have you home. And even though I haven’t brushed my hair since yesterday, and I’ve got stuff from Sammy’s lunch all over my shirt, and I’m so tired I could cry – I am happy to see you – just for you. But please drive faster on your way home – because I also REALLY need a break.