Dear husband,
I love you dearly. But if you respond to my mama rants about the kids eating their boogers, finding poop in the most unusual of places, breaking up fights about who gets to play with the baby's belly button, and the kids just being a-holes in general with— "but you chose this" —one more time...I might seriously lose my shit. And let's be honest. There's not much more to lose.
There is no one who loves our kids quite like I do. I'm not always patient. I'm not always kind. But I love those little a-holes with my whole heart. On their best days and their absolute worst days.
I dreamt about becoming a mama ever since I was a little girl. I dreamt about newborn snuggles. Squishy baby cheeks. Sweet baby smell. Someone calling me mama. Infectious giggles and deep belly laughs.
What I got was a whole lot more. Sleepless nights. Cracked nipples. Engorged boobies. A floppy....well, you know. Stretch marks. Chunks of hair in the shower drain. Mental exhaustion. Physical exhaustion. I mean, near death exhaustion. Like there have been times I actually thought I MIGHT DIE.
I know most of this is foreign to you. Not necessarily by choice, but just because you're not a mom.
I wake with every little cough, sneeze or noise our babies make. I roll out of bed and tip toe down the hallway into their bedrooms to make sure they are okay. I wake to the cries of a teething baby. A sick baby. A hungry baby. A I-just-want-to-be-held baby. A I-had-a-bad-dream-baby. I can't tell you the last time I actually slept a solid 8 hours. (Without drugging myself silly). But your snores tell me you sleep pretty damn good most nights.
And I let you. Because come 4am I know your alarm will go off and you'll head off to the gym for some much needed you-time before putting in a physically and mentally grueling 10-12 hour day. I let you because I know come 5 o'clock in the evening when I hear the garage door open and your car pull in that I have back up and as soon as you walk in the door I'll hand you a kid. I let you because there are evenings I can barely move from the couch and you do dinner and dishes and entertain all while still in your work clothes. I let you because I know the last thing you want to hear after a long day is how your wife didn't get to the laundry or go to the grocery store because she spent all day saying things like "no your penis doesn't go there" and "no we don't eat our boogers" and "because I said so."
I know it seems like I do a lot of complaining. Adulting is hard. Being a parent is hard. And sometimes I just need to vent. Sometimes I just need someone to tell me I'm not crazy. That I'm doing a good job. Or an OK job, at least. I need my partner and my other half to just listen and get it. I need you to get that some days are JUST PLAIN HARD. But that deep down, despite my complaints and utter exhaustion, I wouldn't have it any other way. Even if I don't say it.
Yes, my dear, in a way, I chose this. But there are a lot of things about motherhood I didn't bargain for. Such is life. Sometimes I just need you to get it. Even if that means faking it. Please, for the love. Just. Fake. It.
Hug me. Wipe away my tears. Make me laugh. Pray for me. Like, a lot.
Because I may not have chosen all that motherhood entailed, but God chose me.
I'm teaching our babies how to do things. Spelling and counting and manners and grammar. I'm teaching them about sharing and caring and daring to be who God made them to be despite a world that wants them to conform. I'm teaching them patience and the value of hard work. Shoe tying and potty training. That rocks are for collecting and not eating. And so. Much. More.
And it's exhausting. Rewarding, but exhausting. So when I vent and rant and complain please, don't tell me that I "chose this." Instead, tell me that you choose me. Tell me you're going to be there for me. That I'm not alone in this crazy wild ride. Remind me it's just a season. And that someday I'll really miss it. Because some days, I already really do.
I love you. Dear dear husband. And I love love love our little a-holes too. And I will forever choose all of you.
