No one is going to feel sorry for me when I say that I am bored.
It sounds privileged and snotty even to me, but there you have it. I am.
I am on average either completely alone (someone's napping or asleep therefore leaving me by myself) or with a 2-year old the majority of my day. I get adult interaction for roughly an hour in the morning consisting of, "What do you want for breakfast?", "Please take the trash out," "Don't forget your lunch," and "Bye, love you!" kiss, kiss; and for approximately 3 hours in the evening, which then includes "How was your day, dear?" "Do you want wine/beer/seconds?" a walk around the block and a [usually] quite pleasant chat about who's going to launch the bedtime sequence followed by a little Hulu or a movie or a nightcap.
Not all that bad, right??
Well, here's the thing: I don't really know who that person is. This woman in a box. I can coerce friends to hang out with me and my little 2 year old pal about twice a month. If you multiply that by maybe 2-3 friends, that's maybe 6 adult interactions, which last no more than 2 hours each. That's 12 hours of grown-up time on my own terms (and even then that's being largely generous for two reasons: 1) "my terms" aren't even remotely close to what I have and 2) I think I usually see one friend once a month - the other numbers are purely fantasy). Add to that Anthony's travel schedule and for a large part of the time I'm 100% on my own.
Today I ran errands and kept seeing UPS trucks zipping around. Their drivers so full of energy, things to do, places to go, deadlines to keep, and I was jealous. Jealous that I have to scramble to fill a day with a wonderfully precocious, inquisitive little boy in order to do right by him. This should come easily to me, right? If I were a good mother, I wouldn't have to work so hard to be present or real or energetic. I wish I had a schedule of deliveries just like those men in brown.
I know there are some of you out there rolling your eyes at me as you juggle full- or part-time jobs, exes, and multiple children and you think I'm spoiled or just plain ridiculous. But here's the bottom line: I have too much time on my hands. When I was working, going to school, being pregnant, decorating a house, nursing an infant, raising a baby, whatever, I was so busy that I didn't even think about boredom or loneliness. There's a reason why so many people bury themselves in work/their kids/whatever: it's distracting from the rest of their lives and they don't have to feel badly about themselves.
I don't have that luxury. Hollis is so easy, and leaping into full-blown independence. My marriage is intact and a safe haven. My family is nearby and supportive. My health is solid. I don't have anything to immerse myself into anymore and I am adrift and overwrought with time, plain and simple.
If I were simply trying to survive this wouldn't be a problem. If all I did was think about how to connect the next dot this wouldn't be a problem. But I don't, because I am privileged. My partner makes plenty of money for me to stay home with Hollis. I am a minority. I am oh, so lucky. I am also, oh so confused.
I've seriously been considering getting a job, but we plan on leaving the state soon and so that's an obstacle to work; we're also planning on expanding our family which means that starting a career here is a little less than futile. I'm also not entirely ok with the idea of putting Hollis into daycare just because I'm having a hard time - never mind the fact that what kind of work could I possibly do that would pay for the day care?? Anyway, you see where I'm going with this. Yes, I'm privileged to stay home, but we really can't afford for me to work only part-time or make less than a full-blown salary, either.
Being a stay at home mom is a balancing act of finesse, skill, determination, and intelligence and right now the scales are tipped off balance leaving me restless, bored, sad, and guilt-ridden. I love Hollis more than anything else, adore what I do with him day in and day out, but I am left somehow hollow. How can this be??
I don't know what else to say except that, again, I am struggling. Confused. Restless.
Always fucking struggling. I'm so tired of this.
I wish a UPS truck would just come and deliver me. Somewhere. Anywhere. Just for a weekend. I feel like if I could just get a weekend by myself, as myself, I could feel right again. I just need a tracking number...