My husband and I have nothing in common. Our lives could not be more dissimilar – his all independence and rife with options; mine blind exhaustion in a vacuum of appreciation. The chasm of our marriage rivals that of our dining table and it’s widening. Hello. Hollow.
It’s so exhausting, isn’t it? Yet another thing that needs work, requiring time and attention when the only thing left in my well is vapor, child scent. Grumble. Growl. Get to the back burner. I have to cook a dinner that will get spit on the floor which I will wash with my shirt that I will launder and put away before the sun shits puppies and rose petals. Love me?
Thank goodness there are other writers, better writers who can lift the veil on the gnawed corners of my marriage:
“But, to be truthful, my goal for the next four years is survival. I’m just hoping I’ll make it until they’re all three in school and wiping their own butts and understanding the reasons why we don’t run into oncoming traffic.
If I make it that far then, perhaps, I’ll work on becoming a better, more likable person.
Until then, I’m just happy that at the end of the day, he’s still there. That in this season of small kids, we’re sticking it out for each other.” – from The Season of Marriage by Kimberly Scanga
And what about me, Where The Well Runs Dry? I found the perfect words for her too from Kate Parlin’s Being a Good Mom Is Making Me a Bad Wife:
“My husband never sees me at my best.
At my best, I’m witty, creative, and enthusiastic. At my worst, I’m short-tempered, grouchy, and cold. I can usually be found somewhere between those two, and although my kids often get my best, and my writing sometimes does, my husband just doesn’t.
I worry that this is how marriages fall apart.”
This is the truest thing about myself written by someone else:
“I worry that he thinks I’m always stressed out and yelling when I’m home alone with the kids. Because I’m not. He doesn’t see me on a good day at about 10 a.m. when I’ve had coffee and the morning rush is over. Sometimes I’ve managed to clean the kitchen, brush my teeth, and maybe even sneak in a shower by then. That’s when we snuggle and have a book-reading marathon. Or we dance. Or I decide it’s a good idea to take out some pipe cleaners and glue and make a “craft.” That’s when I have fun with my kids and they get my best self.
But my husband? He sees me first thing in the morning when I’m groggy and up to my eyeballs in cups of milk and custom orders for toast. Then he sees me at the end of the day, when I’m just plain worn out.”
I worry too but today I worry less because I know I’m not alone. Thank you Wives and Mothers. Thank you from the bottom of my well. Love, me.