To My Dear Husband,
This is an open apology letter to you, because quite frankly, I’ve been a crappy wife. There, I said it. Out loud for the free world to read. Things have been stressful and overwhelming between kids, and work, and well, life in general. On the outside I’m all cool and “super mom,” but in reality, on the inside I’m on the verge of losing my $*!# and you’re the lucky one who gets to watch it go down. You might be wondering why I’ve chosen to write this letter to you via the blogosphere, where thousands of people will read it and catch a glimpse into our beautifully flawed marriage. The truth is, this is meant to be a romantic gesture. This is me trying to kiss up in a major way. I’ve come to realize, Dear, that I may have become a
little lot difficult to live with lately and I’m sorry.
All day long I deal with work stuff that drives me crazy, yet I play Mrs. Nice Lady, putting up a polite and passive front. When the work day is over, I dreamily head over to pick the kids up, excited to see them and happy knowing that just seeing their faces will make the day better. Usually, that bubble is busted within no time as one begins screaming because they’re hungry, and I’m picking them up too close to dinner time, or the other has an epic meltdown because they can’t find the 2 inch Lego man they swore they brought home from grandma’s house. On days like these, which lately feel more often than not, my nerves are tethered before I even make it home. I keep my mommy voice in check, but then I open the door to let the dogs out and one of them has had a massive poop explosion all over the laundry room, or I look at the kitchen, which I left spotless this morning, and you’ve left trails of cereal crumbs, coffee pods, and a toothpick on the counter. This is time, My Dear Love, where that teetering switch between sane and hot mess flips and I’m. Ready. To. Blow. I swallow hard and give all my might to keep playing it cool, but I know it’s about to get real.
Then, you come home and you’re all happy and the kids are all “Yay, Daddy!” And you’ve been at work all day too, and you’ve even had to fight traffic on your 45 minute commute home…But I do not feel sympathy for you. I am angry with you for my bad day. Your fun guy attitude does nothing but chap me further. I greet you by snapping at you about your mess from breakfast. Then it starts…the nagging, the barking… “feed the dogs, take the baby so I can start dinner, please fix the light that’s out and when are you ever going to get to the lawn, it looks horrid, etc.” Yes, My Love, I am admitting it- I have a touch of control-freak syndrome, and I am a nag. Sometimes I even have an out of body experience where I hear myself nagging and I think “Oh God, is this really what I’ve become???” But it doesn’t stop me, I just keep on going.
I am SO tired, SO mentally and physically drained. I look at you and you’re SO not. I’m not gonna lie…I resent you a little for that. Maybe it’s true what they say, maybe misery really does love company…
You should snap back at me and tell me how awful I’m being. You should call me every name in the book. You should dread coming home to me (I would). But, you don’t. You look at me and know that I need a big bear hug. Even when I resist it, you embrace me and say “Hello Sweetheart.” You tell me you love me. You love on the kids and help me with the chores I’ve rattled off, and without even knowing you’re doing it, you settle me. Your happy-go-lucky presence saves the day. You get me out of my own head and help me realize that it’s not that bad. Nothing is that bad- it’s actually kind of great.
We’re very far from perfect. We’re definitely more of a Ray and Debra than Ross and Rachel, but we’re a pretty darn good team. We balance each other. When I’m low, you lift me up, and I’d like to think vice versa. Thank you for loving me even when I’m impossible, for making me laugh every single day, and for being annoyingly chipper most of the time. You’re my person, my partner in love and chaos. We’ve come a long way, and I know we’ve got a long way to go, but I’m thankful I get to travel that road with you.