Look, I love my children and I feel very happy with my situation in life. I’m glad I work from home so that we don’t have to cover childcare costs, and all the wonderful things that come from being a work-at-home parent. I’m grateful, thankful, appreciative and happy that our hard work has allowed me this choice of job.
I’ve loved being home with my kids all summer long. It’s been a real challenge staying on top of my work, but I have amazing, understanding clients. They know it’s not easy to work with two kids at home, and they’re ok with me pushing deadlines.
But it has been nearly ten weeks of being with my kids nearly 24 hours a day, seven days a week, and I’m done. I’m cooked. I need a break. A couple dinners or afternoons out hasn’t cut it for me, and I’m overwhelmed, in need of some peace and quiet, and looking forward to school’s pending return.
Then I hear the guilt trips.
“You’re so lucky to be there, you should appreciate being with them more.”
“Time flies, they’re only little once. Enjoy it.”
“I wish I could just sit home and relax with my kids all day.”
Just shut up. Just shut right up.
I appreciate my kids, and I know just how fast time flies. My daughter will be turning nine soon, and I can hardly believe it. I know I will blink and she’ll be grown up. I love conversations with my children, and even take solace in their tantrums, because I know that’s how they test the boundaries, shaping themselves in this crazy world around us. I spend unplugged time with them every single day, and sit playing games and doing crafts and reading to them. We go on walks, adventures, and do fun things. They play with friends, watch movies… we do all the things.
Everyone’s entitled to feeling overwhelmed.
There comes a time when we need a break from one another, and I’m sick of feeling guilty for admitting that. Yesterday, after a particularly rough two days, I plunked myself down on my bed and sobbed.
I’m ready for a break. They’re ready for routine again.
And the next person to lay guilt on me for this is going to get an earful of the most unpleasant language I can muster.