Lately William… says “Wow!” and “Oh wow!” and gasps when he is impressed… Totes around his sister’s “beh-bey” dolls, feeds them and rocks them in his rocking chair… says “Yeah!” and “Oh yeah!” if he wants what you’ve asked about… steals snacks when the refrigerator is open… smells flowers (!!! This one is so cute!)… and hides behind things giggling ferociously at how clever he is.

I’m having issues with being a housewife today.

And maybe it is also from living where my husband grew up and not anywhere near where I grew up, but I feel like I don’t get to be me.

I get to be me with my husband. He’s my best friend. In a way that should be all that matters. In a way that is all that matters, but I should get to be me all the time.

Instead I am somebody’s mom or somebody’s wife. There’s always a qualifier. There is no one that is my friend just because they like me. Everyone knew him first. I have friends but I don’t have any ownership. Maybe ownership shouldn’t matter but it feels like it matters when I’m always once removed.

I am his world and he is mine, and I promise that I know how amazing that is. I guess I shouldn’t complain but there is a hole that nags at me. There is self doubt that swirls around my head, about if even half of them actually like me or if they just like me because they know I’m his world, I’m part of the package. I love that he makes me part of the package, he goes out of his way to include me because I’ve always followed him for work and he knows how hard it is for me to not have my people close by.

It’s not his fault I feel this way but he gets the brunt of the shit storm every time I fall to pieces about this little nagging hole. There is no way to explain to him how this feels. He is out going, friendly, the boy next door. If roles were reversed he would have made his own friends by now. He would take ownership of his life.

But I am riddled with anxiety, my chest gets tight, my throat gets dry, I stumble over words and talk too quietly or too loudly. I make weird first impression. I’m quiet so people think I’m snobby and then they hear I’m from New Jersey or he innocently tells them about my parents’ house or cars, or the schools I went to and they are probably thinking- yep, snob.

I just want some ownership of who I am. I want friends who were friends with me first and accept him as part of my package deal. I want to have someone invite me for a beer after work. But I don’t have work, or co-workers for that matter. I just have me, day in and day out, minute by minute in this house. I adore being somebody’s wife and my heart beats for my children, I love being somebody’s mother.

It would just be nice, every so often, to feel like I am a somebody.

Because I am a somebody. I’m somebody fantastic.

I have heard a lot of Mirena horror stories but nothing negative about the Paraguard - Copper IUD. Any feedback for me? I’m terrified of having something inside me just chillin’ like that but at the same time I kind of want to try it. I like that it is non-hormonal. My doctor, who I have a lot of trust in, says that he has only had to remove a handful of them and none of the ones he removed were placed by him. I guess implying that he is really good at placing them? Which seems weird… Anyway, feedback is welcome.

thedefinitionofmycharacter:

mommatomycrabcakes:

Successfully moving your sleeping child from their car seat to their crib is one of the best feelings in the world.

Legit.

Holding out hope that someday I too can feel this feeling… but 4 years and two kids later my track record isn’t so hot.

The thing about being the partner that continually fails to reload the toilet paper when I use the last piece is… sometimes I pee and look over and see that my other half has failed to put a new roll on and I can’t even say a damn thing because he will deny it and statistically speaking it was more likely me. And so I’m just like “well played sir,” as I reach for a Puffs Plus to solve my problem.

Being the lazy one has lame consequences.

But thank goodness for seasonal allergies, there’s always tissues in this house.

Also, whoever says that men don’t do things like reload the toilet paper but women do has never met me and my husband.

Additionally of note, my husband calls tissues Kleenex but only buys Puffs. I call them tissues but grew up using Kleenex. And now when I blow my nose at my mom’s house I’m like, “how do you people blow your nose with this thin sandpaper?!” (He’s also converted me to quilted TP and using the toilet at my parents’ house is now one ply hell.)

The weather radio just went off. I’ve never moved so fast. Just a watch for now. And it could end up being nothing. I just got done watching footage of Oklahoma. I brought the bike helmets in and put them in the basement safe area. Life is short, I would rather over react than not.

Praying for Oklahoma and the people of Moore especially.