my motherhood martyr routine
The girl we were just born was picky and sad, she cried when I put her down and I didn\'t know how I was going to eat anything that day or go to the bathroom.
As the mother of two children, this is one of the incredible memories now.
Babies are always hard and it\'s harmless to make her cry for a while.
But I am a new parent, learning the ropes.
There\'s another reason I contacted him.
I want to make sure my husband knows that my situation is very bad when he is at work-whenever he wants coffee.
I deliberately wore a dirty jersey that day so that when I announced \"it\'s too hard\" he would not only hear it but also see it.
\"I have been involved in more of these elaborate moments than I want to count, and I am not alone;
Many moms I know like to discuss how hard it is to be a mother and how our husband doesn\'t know how to do anything.
But instead of simply acknowledging this, I asked for a cold martini at the end of the day, but rather boldly tried to make my life sacred --
The fact that the ruins of the world, when my daughter was 5 months old, I lost my job exacerbated this practice.
Complaining can be a pleasant pastime like group therapy, but lately I\'m starting to wonder if I\'m enjoying a little too much.
Throughout the gender role debate, I found my crazy superiority tired.
I became Martin a few months ago and I found myself in the restroom in the pediatrician\'s office to help me with my current 5-year-
The old daughter urinated in the Cup for suspected urinary tract infection while trying to get my 2-year-
Catch the old son of a couple (
Clean, thank God)
Sample cups and run riot on tiles, grab them on top of head and do fist pump.
Managing this situation, almost nothing, a smug idea came up and seemed to offer some much-needed honor: my husband he could never deal with it.
In the next game, I found myself wondering why my obvious achievements in this particular skill and his lack were the reasons to celebrate.
Besides, we all have work to do that day.
Why didn\'t I ask him to take the baby, and then once I decided that instead of arranging a babysitter, I had both children take my eye test, when the kind doctor was busy in the small room, they smiled nervously and approached the expensive optics in an unstable way, and when he looked deeply into my eyes, I thought, perhaps, my soul.
Is my husband able to survive due to lack of experience, but I also doubt that he will consider this mission as an important conquest feat as I do.
Mainly I sent complaints, sighs, complaints or sharp text messages about the injustice imposed on me.
But sometimes I will calm down quietly and hopefully the situation will become obvious.
On a weekday morning, I sometimes make breakfast for the kids in the kitchen, make coffee for us, and I still wear bathrobes when my husband prepares the day.
Do I have time to take a shower, maybe not, but at least my trial-as evidenced by my untidy state-will be further legalized.
These isolated examples certainly cannot describe the full experience of my parents, a pleasant whirlwind that includes the best years my husband and I have spent as a couple, many happy days are marked by these feelings and spent with my lovely, funny children.
But recently-perhaps because of the awareness that I am an example of my daughter who is now very observant-there seems to be too many examples of the victim complex.
I don\'t like myself when I try to win the \"Who\'s hardest\" match with my husband;
I should have noticed that I seem to be the only participant with a perception.
This kind of behavior is not part of my life plan at all.
In the process of growing up, I set a good example in my mother.
She has never acted so painfully, or at least I have never noticed her doing so.
She bought a consulting firm when she was pregnant with me and then returned to work.
I was president when I was six weeks old.
My father is full of work.
The same is true of time. They hired a well-educated nanny to look at me during the day and finally my little brother.
When we grow up, we have a family dinner together every night.
We had an unforgettable holiday and weekend outside of Washington. C.
Take a carousel at the National Mall and visit the Smithsonian Museum.
Until today, I have a close relationship with my parents, a mother who has never betrayed a sense of guilt, regret or resentment about her choice or the role she has to manage.
If so, I\'m afraid I don\'t have a strong parent like her.
That\'s another reason I\'m trying to adjust my mind. set.
I may not be completely calm about my work.
Family balance at the moment-while I know it\'s not everyone\'s, I \'ve always envisioned being a working mother, just like my own-but I\'m pretty sure, the solution is not a random self-contest. pity.
Now, of course, it is forgiven for a new mother to adopt the child --up-
In the early days of the game, the cloak of martyrdom was embedded.
There is an invisible badge of honor, and one suffers with a newborn in the trenches.
I regret that I have been clinging to the remnants of this feeling for so long.
It\'s hard to be a mother.
But have I been making it all these years, and I don\'t know why it took me so long to realize that my husband is not only responsible for coming forward, but I am responsible for stepping down.
So, I\'m trying.
I recently told my husband: \"I noticed that the children only asked me to cook food for them when they were hungry, so I would guide them more often.
\"There was no apology or a frustrating narrative of my other duties.
He made a simple statement, and then he agreed and promised to help resolve the issue.
One night in November, when the two of us were lying in bed after a long day, I was anxiously thinking about the upcoming holiday road trip.
I made a suggestion instead of bashing the stress of the trip and the impact I was affected.
\"Listen,\" I said.
\"It seems arbitrary, but when we leave this Thanksgiving, I hope you can pack your bags for the kids.
He took a sip of tea and nodded resolutely. “OK,” he said.
My understanding has been slow, but I know that when I get rid of these symbolic hair shirts from my mother, I get the mental space and energy to meet the more pressing needs: writing, working
When others do the job, look for or simply get the mental health benefits of downtime.
I certainly recognize that this theme is a luxury for some parents, and that many of the more pressing issues, such as financial difficulties or illness, cover up the theme of the role of parents.
But for me, in my particular family, the way to solve a permanent, rather unattractive \"I am in trouble\" state seems to be much more complicated than it once appeared.
I just want to ask what I want.
So I tried to drive the martyrs out forever and instead sought help that I had been trying to prove I didn\'t need.
That\'s what I \'ve been doing for the last few months, and when I\'m tired of the day of cooking and breaking up, I tell my husband if he doesn\'t mind, I would love to have him shower the kids and start sleeping without me.
I try to avoid the headache of verifying the request-
The Chronicle of guiding children\'s behavior and its influence on my psychology is nothing more than a simple reason: \"I need to take a rest.
This is an honest exchange.
He said yes, because he knew what the day was like with two young children, and I didn\'t have to let go of the relentless reminder.
In the last 10 minutes of the ceremony to read the books at night, I was with them, with my arms around the middle of my daughter, and the four of us snuggled in tiny spaces.
My son, who is only 2 years old, is sometimes bored with the book and often climbs up to me on the half way, sticking his soft cheek to my chest.
Yes, it\'s hard to be a mother.
But if you let yourself have them, there are countless wonderful moments.