Dear Husband,
I’m sorry for picking fights with you lately. Truly, I am. The more I think about it, the more I realize my fury is less a result of anything you’ve done and more a consequence of my resentment for all the things you can do, but I can’t. Because, if we’re being completely honest, I’m really f*cking jealous of you right now.
I’m jealous that I can’t just leave a room without letting everyone else know where they can find me.
I’m jealous that I can’t shut myself in the bathroom for 20 minutes and trust that everything is going to be OK when I come out.
I’m jealous that I can’t turn my brain off at night and sleep without worrying about whether our child is still breathing or sick or in pain.
I’m jealous that I can’t walk out the door in the morning and shift my focus completely to the job at hand, instead of what’s going on at the home front.
I’m jealous that I can’t say “F*ck it!” to nap schedules and meal times and bedtime routines without worrying about how it’s going to screw up that night’s sleep.
I’m jealous that I can’t go somewhere for myself without calculating exactly when I need to get back.
I’m jealous that I can’t be the “fun” parent all the time because I’m too f*cking tired or I’m too f*cking over it.
I’m jealous that I can’t show up when it’s time to go and know that snacks have been packed, the diaper bag is full and everyone is ready.
I’m jealous that I can’t be so nonchalant, carefree and spontaneous.
I’m jealous that I can’t dictate my own schedule instead of having it be dictated by everyone else.
I’m jealous that I can’t be so nonchalant, carefree and spontaneous.
I’m jealous that I can’t, but you can.
I know some of this is my doing.
I know I need to let go of the guilt.
I know I should delegate more.
I know I need to stop being such a damn martyr.
I know I should be more like, well, you.
But at the same time, sh*t needs to get DONE.
And if it doesn’t?
Guess who has to deal with the consequences?
I’ll give you a hint: It isn't you.
So, I’m sorry, husband, for being a raging bitch sometimes.
But I’m just so f*cking jealous of you.
