Okay, first a bit of background on this cranky pants post.
Mr Surfer was just about to finish up his 3 months of paternity leave last year, during which time I did some study, I started doing some part-time work…I was using my brain cells again!!! The twinlets weren’t in daycare yet and I was dreading the idea of going back to being a full-time, day in day out SAHM.
All is good now…kinda, sorta. Well, it’s better than when I wrote this post, last December 😉
Unfortunately, this is not going to be a joyous post welcoming the new week.
But I need to spit it out: I’m pissed.
My husband is copping the brunt of this anger, but deep down I know it’s society that I should be most upset with. And with him going back to work after paternity leave; me having to return my ticket to freedom; I always knew it was going to get ugly.
It was just a time bomb in my head waiting to happen.
I got a taste of what I could potentially do again. How to rebuild my career. To only have my hands tied again and return to my role as a mum.
Not complaining about the “mum” bit.
Yes, I DID sign up for that. No questions or doubt.
But, I don’t see how it’s fair that the assumed bread winner of the family goes back to a life where he has his own controlled environment at work. Where he can simply continue to pick up where he left off. Where it is actually expected of him that he does.
My gripe is that – way before twinlets and baby vomit – I was on a good wicket too. And at one stage – at its peak – it was even better than my husband’s.
So, I sit here, knowing full well that if I really wanted to, if I was given half the chance, if we weren’t having to contend with stupidly unending waiting lists for day care centres, I could in fact, be the one bringing home the bacon. And then some.
Instead, I am the one who needs to be accomodating.
I’m supposed to be understanding of his schedule.
And yet, with whatever I do – professionally or as a mum – it all needs to be accountable. My schedule is on precise Swiss time because if not, dinner doesn’t get prepared and from there all hell breaks lose.
And here is the part where I want to scream at society.
The bread winner on the other hand, he can drive off to work and that’s it. Whatever his activities and movements are throughout the day – they are all unbeknownst to the one at home who’s dealing with toddler meltdowns.
Corporate lifestyle demands from their employees the mandatory attendance to fluffy, rah-rah work “conferences”. (How coincidental that they also happen to be held at glamourous destinations like a beach resort or a winery…). Functions where the big executive egos use it as an opportunity to scratch themselves from the inside of their front pockets while talking senseless crap.
(I can say these things, because at one stage in my life, I was there at these God-awful events).
But on the flip-side ? My situation ? I’m busting to have my brain cells used again. Just to relish in one little ounce of much needed mental stimulation. Only to be forced to missing my final Nutrition class because my mandatory attendance is at home.
You all know how great my husband has been over the past 3 months. He dived right into his full-time parenting role without reservation and complete commitment.
So, this is not about him.
But the bizarre thing about it all ? Now that it’s all over and we’re back to returning to our original roles, I’m left wondering…and pissed off.