My Big Fucking Messy House

I should like to make my own living Published ...

So perhaps it goes without saying that my house is a mess. I mean, I have 2 kids. And they’re homeschooled, which means our house….IS the school. And there’s art shit everywhere, textbooks, just…stuff.

Not that that in itself is an excuse. It’s not so much the stuff. It’s the TIME. From the time I wake up, it’s feed the kids, teach the kids, walk/drive the kids to whatever fucking activity they have, the kids, the kids, the kids, the kids. My life revolves around the kids. And yes, I could probably do a better job of making sure they clean. But we’re busy and we’re having fun, and as long as there is not actual GRIME, some untidiness will annoy me, yes, but not to the point where I am mistreating my children and yelling at them about it.

Unfortunately, my lack of skill in this area, combined with the Tech Guru’s complete ANAL-FUCKING-NESS about it, just led to a huge blowup in our house, which included him yelling, me yelling and ended with me crying in the bathroom. What the fuck is THAT all about? And now, I have to deal with Punksin sitting on my lap begging me not to get a divorce.

I need this shit?

Mind you the divorce word never came up. But I’m not going to lie, it crossed my mind that I am…stuck. Here I am, no paycheck to speak of, dependent on someone who is the sole breadwinner in this house. If shit were to get to that point, what would I do? Where would I go? He could beat the shit out of me, and I’d certainly consider a shelter before I stood for THAT nonsense, but really? Is that what I want for my kids?

And this is where so many people find it amazing that I am at home to begin with. Because most people who know me know how freakishly independent I am. Giving that up was by no means a small feat, and I will admit that the first few months without my own paycheck coming in did tax my nerves severely. But I was so wrapped up in the beauty of my then-newborn daughter that it was easy to lapse into a coma about the serenity of it all.

But I REALLY REALLY don’t like being without an escape route and this just brought that all rushing back to me, how desperately DEPENDENT I am, all the more so because of my two children, for whom I would give up my life. For all intents and purposes, I practically have.

I really, really, really need to do some thinking. There’s a lot of shit I am just fucking TIRED of, a lot of feelings, a lot of my kids’ feelings, a lot of stress all around, and I’ve kind of just fucking had it. The irony is, this all comes on the heels of a weekend in which I busted my ass trying to get some shit moving around here that would get things more organized because I KNOW how much it stresses him out. Apparently, that is not enough. Real effort is not enough. The kids being happy and intelligent is not enough. We can all be stupid and starve as long as we clean our asses off.

I’m reminded of something my aunt told me. When she had my cousin/little sister 30 years ago, her husband didn’t want her to go back to work. And for a year or so, she tried the stay-at-home mom thing, which I do remember clearly. But then he would come home, and bitch about the house. This wasn’t closed, that wasn’t put away, this wasn’t done. Until finally one day, she had enough, and she found a job. When he expressed dismay about it, she told him, “You’re always bitching about this shit, so now guess what? You and I will BOTH go out to work and come home to the SAME mess, and now it won’t be my fault.”

And she sure as fuck did. Didn’t stop working from then until last September. This is why so many women DO go back to work. To retain their independence and not be harassed by some man who has no clue what the fuck it takes to really RUN A HOUSE. In my case, the work is extra because I am not packing kids off to school with a full day ahead of me to focus on “Gee, what should I clean TODAY?” Nope. I am teacher/chauffeur/playmate/housemaid/chef – with NO FUCKING INCOME. WHATSOEVER. NO fucking time to myself. WHATSOEVER. But that doesn’t count for shit apparently. Not when I left my nail polish in the living room and the dining room table is covered with textbooks and the chairs have laundry on them that I haven’t gotten to fold.

As I said. I. NEED. TO. THINK.

 

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