I’m done with being on the road. I don’t really have a choice. But I have a choice to bitch. And tonight, I’m bitching. I’m done. I sat at a filthy and brightly lit (that’s important) bar. I never sit at the bar. The restaurant bar is designed for single people. I’m really good at eating alone. Like super good. Sometimes I prefer it. It’s what I do. But I’d rather sit with other people. I don’t sit at the bar unless I really have to and tonight 15 minutes was too long to wait for shitty food. But tonight I became sick of.
My “On the Road” is only one night a week (i.e. two full days of away-ness), but I’m done. Today I listened to a woman say that working moms were the downfall of civilization. To her, any woman who leaves the home and has her children raised by other women are the ruination of the modern society. She kept saying, “I feel.” I don’t agree. I don’t even feel like I agree. And the woman taking calls didn’t agree. But it didn’t matter. I heard it and felt like shit. I felt like deep shit for a couple seconds. And then I drove three more miles away from my family because I had to.
And here’s the truth. I drove because I also secretly wanted to. As a woman, I like the alone time. I like feeling like a woman. Not a mom or a partner, but a person. I like me. This is why I can tell you the benefits of daycare. I can tell you the benefits of being completely away from the home. I can tell you the benefits of having a completely capable husband. And I have to believe that my kids are better for it. If you tell me they aren’t, I’ll fight and argue until I make you cry. Trust me. I’ll do it. You might not cry in front of me, but you’ll feel like shit. That’s what Moms are good at. Feeling like shit. Tonight, I feel like piles of it. Because l have my breaking point.
Being a working mom is hard. Being a working mom who is completely away from the home once a week (sometimes…most times… two full days a week) is hard. But it is what it is. And next week, I’ll be ok with it.
But that’s next week.