It’s a little after 10PM. We’ve had a busy day. Jazmine is in the bed. My mom calls; I talk to her. I finish our call and briefly talk to my tired husband. I am finished all of my roles for the day. I’ve Mommied, wifed, and daughtered. I was beginning to settle in to time for Xara.
I had no real plans but somewhere in the options was a shower, read a book, watch a show, and/or relax on the couch before bed. I see one Jazmine item still left out. I pick it up to put it away when my husband asks me to rub his foot.
Instantly, I am incensed. Hadn’t I done enough already? I took care of everyone else. I am finished now. I want to take care of me now. Why does one wait until I look like I am about to rest to have an ‘oh but wait, can you do’ moment?
I sat down, quite resentfully, next to my husband and rubbed his foot. It was not mechanical but neither was it loving. I did provide some warmth to my touch but the emotional resentment was there. I could feel the tears in the back of my eyes. I blinked them away.
When is enough enough for the day? When can I say ‘no, I’m done’? And here I am, wanting more children. Maybe that is why I haven’t conceived. I flare up at the Wifommy responsibilities I have now and I have the nerve to want to add more children to the mix?
I really had to blink hard then to keep the tears at bay. That line of thinking made me feel bad on top of worse. How can I yearn for more and inwardly fuss at what I have?
So now, I am doing nothing on my original things to do list. Now, I am writing a post about how discouraged I feel about not being able to call an end to my Wifommy day, being angry with my husband for wanting me to rub his feet, and being ashamed about wanting more children given my inward outburst about what my current household size requires.