In my next life I want to come back as a man. I love being a woman. I am proud to be a woman. I believe in the strength of a woman, and I want to raise strong women. I think that women are remarkable creatures; beautiful, powerful, sensual, life-giving creatures, but sometimes, just sometimes, I wish that I could be a man.
I find myself longing for the pure and simple bliss that is a man’s life (maybe I’m unfairly painting all men with the same brush, but I think, for the most part, women can agree); not worrying, not stressing, not feeling anxious, being able to unapologetically take time for self-care. My hubby always gets to be Mr. Cool, fun Dad and play with the kids while I try to accomplish a gazillion things. I am envious of his ability to just shrug things off…knowing that it will all work itself out and it will all get done one way or another. I’m envious of his ability to never lose a night’s sleep because he’s thinking about how he is going to complete everything. I’m envious of his ability to not feel guilty when things are left undone.
My hubby is one of the best. Trust me, I know. I’m so grateful for my hubby, but at the end of the day, it’s just not “equal” when it comes to our kids and the household tasks. My husband goes to work earlier than me, so he gets ready for work in peace and quiet, blissfully enjoying a 20+ minute shower, quietly eating his breakfast and sipping his coffee alone with his thoughts; not having to fight with 4 kids about what they are going to wear that day, or what they are going to have for breakfast, or having to negotiate with them to have at least one more bite, or having to chase our toddler around the house for 20 minutes to get her diaper changed and get dressed, often times giving up the fight and letting her wear whatever inappropriate thing that her big sister “helped” get her dressed into. By the time I have K&B loaded onto the bus and L&L in the van I am ready for a nap and a HUGE glass of wine….and it’s only 8:30am. Hubby has no idea what the morning routine (and by routine I mean shitshow) is like, and I’m sure he thinks that I’m overreacting every time he gets a frantic call from me and I’m crying or venting and telling him that I just can’t do it all. My husband gets to go to work and focus on the task at hand, he just works. He doesn’t worry about what to make for dinner, or about sending out the invitations for baby’s birthday party or baptism, or wondering when he’s going to get time to pack for all 6 people in our family so that we can leave for said baptism. He doesn’t feel guilty about the fact that he yelled at K this morning, or that B might not be dressed warm enough. After work, he can drop everything in a moment’s notice to go play a game of pick up volleyball, or football, or baseball. He doesn’t worry about my well-being when he leaves, but if I go to a spin class I stress about it all day and I feel guilty that I’ve left and worry while I’m gone. His whole day is just so much simpler and worry-free….I want that. I have tried. I have tried not to worry, not to overthink, not to stress, not to feel guilty, but for some reason, it’s pre-programmed in my brain to feel these things…..and it’s pre-programmed in his brain not to.
So, in my next life, I’d like to come back as a blissful, worry-free, guilt-free, Mr. Cool, man.