Diary of a guilty mom

“Uhhh” I moaned as I rolled over. The baby was in the crib hollering. He must have been crying for a while because he was already standing up but his eyes were still shut. I turned on the side table lamp and glanced over at my husband, sound asleep. 

“Uhhh” I moaned louder hoping to stir him, but nothing. Stiff as a log he slept there. He had always been a heavy sleeper. I thought I had been a heavy sleeper at one time, but then we had kids. And now only he slept. Lucky bastard.

I hoisted myself up and trudged over to the crib on the other side of the room. My feet were heavy like mud, the distance from our bed to the crib seeming like a mile instead of just a few feet. 

My newest baby wasn’t really crying anymore just waiting for mommy to pick him up. He was a cuddler always sleeping in my arms and never wanting to be put down. That was fine 6 months ago when he was brand new but now mommy’s arms were tired as I stared at him in disbelief. 

I had just laid down not thirty minutes ago for the night at 1 am. Only after cleaning up after dinner, getting the toys in the playroom picked up, packing my husband's lunch for work and finally getting the baby to sleep. A typical night, and my husband had been in bed for hours so he could be ready to go to work early in the morning.

I remember going to work, seeing other adults and having conversations about something other than crayon colors and food. I remember getting coffee on the way in and drinks with friends on the way home. All before kids, now I sit at home and husband gets to go to work. When he comes home he’s not much help either, complains about a hard day at the office and wants to sit with a beer or cuddle up with me. But he does not see that I’m still clocked in and working here at home and I don’t get breaks or a chance to go out anymore.

I pick up the baby and rock him back and forth in my arms. A heavy potato sack I’ve been carrying all day finally weighing me down so much I have to sit. I’m no longer in control of my body, I'm just running on autopilot. Somehow I manage to attach him to my breast and he sucks himself to sleep once again. Like diffusing a dangerous bomb I carefully laid him back in the crib and made my way back to my bed, where my husband is still sleeping. 

When my head hits the pillow once more I let out a sigh of relief. “Maybe, I’ll get some rest now” I hoped closing my eyes 

145am

“Nooo” I want to scream but I don’t lest I risk waking up the other two children.

The baby is crying again and it feels like I just got to shut my eyes. I reach over to turn the side lamp on, only to realize I’ve turned it off. I flip the switch again exasperated. I look over and see my husband is still asleep. Mouth open, drool hanging and his head bent in what seemed like an uncomfortable setting, with half the beds covers bunched around him.

I roll off the bed and trudge through the mud that is my bedroom carpet over to the crib, when I trip over something. I let out a small yelp as I fall onto my knees. I must have startled the baby because he is no longer crying his soft cry but has now escalated his volume. I looked up at the bed from the floor to see my husband still sleeping.

I pick myself up off the ground and pull myself up to pick up my wailing baby. I sit down on the bed and nurse him back to sleep. As the sucks begins to slow and his eyelids close for sleep my husband lets out a loud cough like a car backfiring in an ally. That was enough to startle the baby awake again and this time he was mad and crying loudly. I try and comfort him, holding him close and shushing him rhythmically, but no no avail. I glance up to see if my husband has woken up after such a violent cough. No such luck. He has turned over, taking the rest of the covers with him and sound asleep.

“What the fuck” I say in disbelief. “How can this man get so much fucking rest when I am over here about to fucking loose it.” Still cradling the baby I stomped to the crib and put him down and pick up one of the throw pillows and launch it with decent accuracy at my husbands head. He still sleeps. I pick up the pillow and mash him in the head over and over. “How can you just sleep. I want to sleep” I say over and over as I continue to bash him with the oversized pillow. I’m not sure when he finally woke up during the beating but when he sat up I tossed the pillow one final time and stormed out the door. 

“I need a break” I said and I made my way to the front door, grabbing the keys and my purse before going out to the car.

215am

Idling in the Jack in the box drive thru window as the women hands me the food I’ve ordered. As she hands me the three drinks and 3 meals I see her glancing into my car, probably wondering who I could be feeding so late.

I place my food bags in the passenger seat and pull off and park in front of the food place. I begin to devour the food I’ve ordered, despite some of it being extremely hot, fresh out of the fryer. It’s been forever since I’ve had a meal to myself, usually feeding my children as I try to feed myself is a challenge, and I usually get just bits and pieces of a meal. Over the last few months I’ve had a tendency to binge at night after everyone has gone to bed and feel like crap about it later. There was a slight pull of guilt as I sucked up my strawberry shake and followed it with a fist full of fries.

 I reached into the next bag and pulled open a box that I had hoped would be onion rings but instead they were chicken stars. Our oldest was 5 and she loved chicken stars. It was one of her main food groups since starting preschool, I loved to see her eyes light up whenever her dad would bring them home for dinner when he knew I hadn’t had time to cook. I looked at the little fried crispy stars and felt myself heave and then sobb. I kept eating the chicken stars one by one loosing all ability to see them through my tears. 

I reached back into the bag and shoved more fries into my mouth and took another gulp of my strawberry shake. My shirt began to feel damp and I looked down to see my nipple had begun to leak. This made me cry harder. I couldn’t even go out for a meal on my own without my body missing my kids. And it wasn’t just my boobs or my tears, I found myself glancing at the back seat to check on the empty car seats.

I reached into the back seat and retrieved my purse,  rummaging around for my phone.  I only found it in the dark abyss when it lit up from a missed call. I checked the call log and saw that my husband had called 10 times and had sent several text messages all escalating in urgency. I looked at a message and saw “PLEASE COME BACK HOME. I LOVE YOU”  guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. I just left my husband and crying baby at home, what kind of mother and wife am I. “one that needs a break” a nagging thought bubbled up. “Yeah a break not to abandon them though” I argued with myself

I turned the ignition over and put the car in gear and headed back home. From the driveway I could see that every light in the house was on. The other kids must have woken up from the baby's cries. Our oldest was a light sleeper and had been having trouble since we had brought the baby home from the hospital. 

I turned off the car and headed up to the front door, taking deep breaths as I turned the door knob. I prepared myself for the rush of chaos. When I pushed the door open there was my husband on the ground of the front hall. He was on his knees with the baby in his arms. The baby was wailing at the top of his lungs and naked. I shook my head in confusion. On the floor beside him were our other two children also sobbing big crocodile tears asking “where’s mom” over and over again.

This nearly broke my heart. I was so jealous of my husband, and how he was able to escape all the time for work and all the sleep he got. But my kids need and love me and are always looking for me. Something had to change, we had to find balance. But not tonight. Tonight I would put my family to bed and we would revisit this another day. 

“Mommys here” I whispered. My family looked up at me like I was a ghost in shock. They all got off the floor and practically tackled me to the ground with kisses, hugs and lots of questions.

“Where did you go” My middle child asked

“Just to get a snack” I revealed and pointed to my purse by the door that had the fast food bag hanging out of it, fries spilling out onto the floor. 

“Ohhh” my husband said confusion covering his face

But the kids were already going through my purse to see what kind of food mom had brought home.

“Oh damn” my husband explained, I looked away from the kids and my purse to my husband who was still holding the naked baby, who was peeing on him. 

“Here I’ll help you clean up” I said.