I came home yesterday, and as our schedule typically is, Brett had been with the kids while I went to the gym after work (or more likely just stayed at work with an extra coffee to chip away at the email pile, as had been the case this time). He told me about D's latest issues, for which he'd already punished her. He's telling me this, while she's already sitting back in time-out for sass mouthing. A mini-me she is, and my mother is loving this.
Then he tells me that she hit Ravi, although he had hit her first. He's 1. I flew off the handle. Her sassing time-out was quickly taken up a notch by my laying into her till she was bawling. "Good - CRY about it!" and I stormed off.
I totally overreacted, but I was LIVID. Why? This crap happens every day. They're kids. But still, I was just so angry and wanted her to KNOW it. And then I was angry at my own temper. And angry that Brett was telling me to calm down. Angry because he was right. Angry that she hit. Angry at my own expectations that she not do things that kids just do. As if this little sibling smackdown (which is not a big deal but emotions were in the way) somehow would not have occurred had I been there to parent more. This is not even logical.
And then he said it.
"You know, I took care of this before you got home. You don't have to overcompensate just because you weren't here."
Oh.
My.
You know you're with the right person when they floor you with a spot-on observation about yourself and render you speechless. The guilt monster strikes again.
When I travel for work, I feel like Brett's doing me a favor for letting me. This isn't helped when people ask "Aw, who takes care of your kids when you're gone?" No one asks a man that. "Letting" me. Is my head in 1950?
When I go for a run or an evening out, it's like I'm taking advantage of him. I have been skipping proper post-run stretches just so I can hurry in and relieve him. And my calves are paying. "Relieve" him? WHO AM I?
To be clear, he doesn't see it this way. And when the roles are reversed, I'm not doing any favors. Zero guilt. Men just don't do this. You can blame him if you find this sexist.
This is all me. It's woman behavior. We apologize too much. We don't ask for help for fear of looking incompetent. We stay up till 2am to prove that we can work through the fresh produce from this week's CSA. Because if you throw away that lettuce for lack of time to wash and dry, what kind of mother are you?
Go read
this Newsweek article. She pretty much says women don't rely on others enough and she's right. This is in my own hands.
Starting now: I pledge to be more conscious of how much guilt and pride drives my behavior. If we have this in common, you should too.
I will leave the kids with Brett guilt-free.
I will not overcompensate.
I will take help from friends.
My current test.
Brett's out of town for the next four days. A friend had offered to take Dilan for a play date if I needed some help. My thought at the time: "That's nice so of her. I could go for a run with Ravi. But no, that's so frivolous. I can't ask her to do that. What will she think? I can only ask help if there's an emergency. No help. I am woman! I can handle myself."
Is that the definition of woman strength? If my mom lived here, I wouldn't think twice about asking for weekend help. Asking a mom friend makes me feel indulgent. This is DUMB.
I swallowed my pride and emailed her 5 minutes ago. I already feel bad for asking. But I asked and will now commence to hit refresh in my gmail 14 times.
The request for help is out there in the internet. I did it. I will go running. And maybe stretch. Hear me roar.