I've spent the weekend in a fog. Except for brief moments of clarity offered by a bunch of rowdy toddlers at a water park and dan-dan noodles burning a hole in the left upper quadrant of my mouth, I've been sulking.
Yup. A downright pathetic bitter pity fest for myself.
Sure. I've owned up to my choice of becoming a mother, and leaving my successful career as a college professor. And while being a mostly stay-at-home-mother has afforded me great opportunities in the online realm, in the real world, I feel like a 2nd class citizen. Even in my own home.
I didn't expect to be treated like a rock star once I pushed my daughter out of my nether regions, but I didn't think my identity as the cool, smart and attractive woman would be replaced by "caretaker, housekeeper, and babysitter extraordinaire." And while I had some hand in allowing myself to be sucked into that new role, I can't seem to make any progress in changing the minds of others.
Shit. We might has well be illegal aliens. "Build a fence around your house to keep the moms in and away from us." I can practically smell the damn "minute man militia" on my ass. If you walk in anywhere other than a toy store or baby boutique with a kid on your hip, I sware they have a special button that says "watch out, crazy lunatic clueless breeder incoming." People roll their eyes at your at restaurants, department stores, and the post office - just because you have a kid. And they don't call you when they have a fun day planned, a girls night out, or a cool party. Right. The kid. I forgot.
And it's not just random people on the street. It doesn't help that "other halves" (particularly of the male species) automatically assume that if you choose to stay home, your feelings and needs are no longer important. Because your existence is for the kid. So, if he wants to go out all day and all night, or leave the house to "grab some take out" and comes back 2 hours later after a stop off at the bar or play Beer Pong for 6 hours and then sleep in because *wah* he's tired, that's just how it is. It's my job. I'm one with house. Automatically available for childcare and meals. Like a fucking diner with day care.
I'm tired of being lonely and alone, and feeling like an idiot who is worthy of nothing but managing the daily existence of a 2-year-old. Don't get me wrong. It's an honorable job - more so than anything I ever had or will ever have. However, people don't get that. For the most part, my husband doesn't get that. And I'm bitter about this perception of motherhood.
So if putting my foot down, offering my valid and wise opinions on any variety of topics, and desiring some moments of peace, quiet, and kidlessness means I'm a "bitch nazi," then so be it. Because these days, anything seems better than what the title of "mother" affords me.