I am writing this letter to apologize. Today I had a psychotic episode. Now, I know that you are partly used to them but the thing is, today I can’t blame it on my hormones.
Today I walked into the laundry for the first time this week and I saw clothes… lots of clothes. There were clothes everywhere. So many clothes that I could have mistaken my laundry for… well, a laundry. For the last week I have been engrossed in penning my half written novel (you know the novel that I wanted to write many, many years ago but didn’t because… well… things have been popping up for 13 years?) and everything else here at home has taken a back seat.
Last week you saw my new found love for my computer and my excitement at tapping away at my keyboard and – being the hero that you are – you set out to do as many of my jobs around the house as you could so that I could continue writing, undisturbed. I am truly grateful. Of course you wouldn’t know how grateful I am because last night while we were out – instead of telling you – I told our friend. I told her what a wonderful support you have been not only helping around the house but for affording me some extra time to write by picking up the slack here at home. You gave me uninterrupted time to write – not for money or because I am contracted to (or because I told an editor I was finished) – but because I want to. You gave me what precious time you could because you know it’s been a dream of mine and finally I’ve made found made some time. I told our friend all of this. But I didn’t tell you. No, no instead I yelled at you because there were clothes in the laundry… and they were everywhere. I was being a little crap.
You see, today those clothes in the laundry weren’t just clothes, they were everything that I hadn’t been doing around the house this week in my role as wife – you know the fact that if I don’t wipe down my benches three times a day after every little crumb I might die? Yes, those clothes were a reminder that this week I had put myself first, and…I had put my writing first. And my housewife duties came in a sloppy second. And I felt guilt. I know you say it doesn’t matter if the house isn’t perfect and deep down (way, way deep down!) I guess I know it too, but those clothes right there – sprawled out over our laundry bench – well they were singing a different tune.
Today I got to experience firsthand, a severe case of mummy guilt. And it sucked balls. I yelled at you. And I am angry that I got angry. It wasn’t your fault. I had led myself to believe that those clothes – all over the place – well that they were an indication of how good (or rather, not so good) of a wife and mother I am. And that is stupid. Really freakin’ stupid.
So, I am sorry. I am sorry that I yelled at you when you have been so patient with me. I am sorry that in that moment this morning I based my worth – as your wife and the mother of your children – on the state of that laundry. I am so very sorry for what I said to you when I was guilt-ing!
I want to say thank you. Thank you for everything you do for me, you will never know how lucky I feel to have you.
Lots of Love, your wifey xx
PS – I DID mean what I said about me being the CAPTAIN. Regardless of the state of the ship, I’m still in charge!
PPS – Any chance we can clean up the laundry now?
Happy Father’s Day!