Sometimes I feel that I am the only mother alive that thinks this is hard. Are there others out there? Is there anyone else who thinks that perhaps, just maybe, they weren’t cut out for this mothering s***. Are you out there? I’m sending out a life-line. If you’re out there raise your Zooloft prescriptions high. I need to know.
 
I have spent the better part of the last two years wanting to kill my husband. This is caused by full sleep deprivation, stress, and oh, that he is a total asshole. By asshole I mean that he doesn’t read my mind and anticipate my every need. I am now at a place where I no longer want to stab him in his sleep but simply throw a blunt object at his head. I consider this progress.
 
I have recently discovered that two of my girlfriends, both successful attorneys, thankfully feel the way I do. The first gave birth to her second son six weeks ago. She admitted to me that neither she nor her husband has actually had both children alone yet. She has employed 2 full time nannies to be at the house for 80 hours a week. “I feel kind of bad,” she says. “Are you kidding?” I said. “We all should be so lucky. There is no medal for being the most exhausted, irritable woman on the block.” In fact, I believe, there should be government-funded mandatory day care anytime we have to spend more than 8 hours alone with our kids. It’s torture. Put me on a box, throw a hood over my head and hook me up to electrodes. Please, I could use the privacy and hell, might even enjoy the buzz.
 
And then there are the “others”. The women who some how are waltzing through this with nary a complaint. I want to know their secret. What channel do they set their mind to everyday that makes this palatable? Do they have the secret equation – the right balance – between roles of husband and wife that seem to make sense?
 
It seems the most obvious solve would be to have a thorough understanding of each other’s roles in the parental relationship. My husband and I, for example, have a 50/50 relationship. I can count with neuron-splicing accuracy how many hours, minutes and seconds I have spent watching the kids before it is “his” turn. I am ruthless. “Geez,” he says “does it always have to be so exact? Can’t we sometimes have a give and take?”. “No” is my reply. And I know this because if it has crossed over to “his” turn to take them and he is, for example, still in the bathroom, I have no qualms about throwing them in there and saying “see ya”.
 
Do I hate my kids. No, they are great. But why was it okay for an entire generation of men in the 50s to come home from work, want an hour to relax and eat their dinner before they had to engage with their children. I’m not asking for anything different than an entire generation of men, who quiet frankly, had the damn right idea. Perhaps I am growing a penis.
 
The list. Do you have it? Either written down on a piece of paper or just in your head? It’s the list that keeps track of how much you are doing and how much they are doing. No matter the side you are on, your list is always longer. The aforementioned attorney and her husband wrote theirs down the other day. She read through to the bottom then cackled. “You don’t get to put ‘killing spiders’ on your list.” I think this kind of sums it up. Men’s brains have been programmed to be providers. That’s really as long as their lists get. But when both partners are pulling down the same 100k + salaries the ‘provider’ lines negate each other. The items need to be what you are doing on a consistent basis to raise your family. And no, ‘killing spiders’ doesn’t cut it.
 
My husband thinks I’m fortunate that he is a 50/50 husband. He doesn’t hesitate to remind me that “I do more than almost all the fathers I know.” And my reply is “I can’t help it that other women are stupid and don’t make their men do half the work.” Seriously. At this point in my life, as a woman of two young children, and a full-time employee I am still ‘expected’ to do the “majority of the child rearing.” I call bull shit! I explained this to my husband in my most sweet and non-aggressive voice “You don’t get credit for doing 50%. That’s like getting an award for not killing someone today. You don’t get a button for doing what is right.” I on the other hand, pull my 50% and am somehow wearing a scarlett letter for being the mom who only gets up with the kids every other day and puts them down every other night.
 
But back to the “others”. I don’t really get them. And believe me, I do want to get them. I want to understand. Are they physiologically different than me? Do they just have more patience then I do? When both children are pulling on you like two bags of wet cement, doesn’t this irritate them? I humbly succumb to their wisdom.
 
Until then, I raise my glass of scotch with a side of valium to them, and you.
 
Cheers.
 
 
Whitney Cicero is not a professional writer; she’s just a wannabe. She gets really annoyed by people who chew gum or those that sneeze three times in a row. Her alter ego works for Coca-Cola creating marketing campaigns for new brand launches. She lives in San Mateo with a four year old and two year old. She can sing every “Wiggles” song by heart. If she wins this essay contest she’d like to thank Dora for teaching her Spanish and to the WonderPets for learning the value of teamwork.