I'm free. I would put an exclamation point on that, but I'm not sure yet how excited I am. I know I will be excited, but it hasn't happened, yet.
Tonight, we dropped the boys off at Al's parents' house for three days, as I am headed off for a trip to Houston. Without my children. Without my husband. It's like I'm a single woman! Except that I'll be with my parents, so it's like I'm a single woman without a life. Hey, I'll take what I can get.
This is my first time away from the baby and one of only a handful of times away from Pants. That's why the lack of exclamation point: I'm suffering from separation anxiety. However, this is nothing that a little sleep and shopping therapy can't solve. Did I mention I'm staying in my own private hotel room? Did I mention the sleep thing? This may be the best Christmas gift I've ever received. Aah, sleeping more than a few hours at a time. Sleeping without one ear listening for cries in the middle of the night. The sleep of the dead. The sleep of the Not-a-Mama.
I'm about ready for that exclamation point now.
As I sit here, after midnight, not washing the laundry that should already be packed to go in the morning, I'm wondering what this trip will really cost me, though. Sure, it's free (thanks Mom & Dad), but what if it's not really...
I'm thinking this trip is going to cost me my martyrdom. Yep, that's right-- my role as the stay-at-home martyr that I have developed so diligently. Will this trip mean I have to cash in my "I never get any time for myself" chip? Man, that is going to suck, because I work that chip like a $3 whore.
This behavior is apparently referred to as sandbagging. Not officially, I don't think, but about as "officially" as those fluff TODAY Show pieces get, which is where I first heard of this and winced as I recognized my own marriage. Kelly Corrigan's column (reproduced on her blog) was the source for this particular segment. An excellent explanation and definitely worth the read.
Sandbagging is all about hedging your bets. You have a good day at home or at work, but then in an effort to prevent your spouse from thinking you've got it too good, you leave out the "good" details of your day and focus on the rough spots instead. I absolutely admit that I do this. I've mentioned these good days before, but you better believe that I didn't necessarily portray them as so carefree and laid-back at the time when my husband prompted for my daily report.
I'm fairly certain that I probably mumbled something about having a million things to do, housework being impossible with Cheeks needing so much baby-attention, and Pants not cooperating fully. Blah blah blah, right? But I'm damn sure to get it on the record that I'm slaving away at home while ole' hubby there is surely kicked back, enjoying leisurely lunches, coffee whenever he wants it, potty breaks without a baby on your lap and a toddler at the door, not to mention all the adult-interaction you can shake a stick at. Just for the record.
Which is exactly why my husband must then sandbag me. In fact, he did it just the other day. I find out at the end of the day (from my mother, who was also sandbagged by my father) that there was a business picnic that day at my husband's office; an outdoor crawfish boil with all the delicious atmosphere that only crawfish boils can deliver. Funny, he didn't mention an office party today. Why not? I'll have to ask him:
Me: So, how was today?
Office Drone: Fine. Oh, yeah, there was this office thing. We had to stay there forever. (collapsing on the couch, worn out)
Me: You mean the crawfish boil?
Drone: Yeah, well, it was just a pain. Went on and on. (glancing at me to see if I'm buying this)
Me: Hmmm, that sounds rough. You must be tired... (thinking, "...from all of that crawfish, beer, fresh air, and guy talk with your friends" --his friends do happen to work with him, yes)
Why do we do this? I mean, we do it to each other. Why can't I just say, "Honey, we had a great day. We played all day, the boys were dolls-- I loved it." Why can't he just say, "I had an easy day today. We had a long lunch at that great new restaurant you've been wanting to go to and nothing big came across my desk. It was nice."
I think we do it because we don't want to forfeit our defenses. When the other has had a bad day, it seems like it will only make it worse if they think we had it easy. So we hedge, just in case they did have a bad day. Just in case they are going to think we do have it too easy and will then mound up some more responsibility on our backs.
As though since you had such a good day, why don't you do the dishes and give the kids a bath tonight while I recover from my miserable day? Well, huh? All that fresh air and good feelings wiped you out? Get back to work!
As a stay-at-home mom with a baby and toddler, I've sort of hedged my whole existence at home. That's awful to admit, but it's true. Now, we all know how challenging being at home full time can be, but it's not hard every.single.day. It just isn't. Spoonfed has got me pegged on that one with another great post on sandbagging. Yet I've sort of hedged myself into a corner... and I can sense that big sign splashed with "Martyr" hanging over my head.
I need to remove that rickety old sign. I need to cash in my "woe is me" chip. I need to embrace that damn exclamation point.
I'm going to Houston. I'm going to have a ball. I'm going to go see Cirque du Soleil for the millionth time, shop until I drop, and sleep like I haven't slept in exactly 2 years and 8 months. Then I'm going to come home and not sigh my "I knew it" sigh when Maguire says, "But you just got to go to Houston by yourself."
Nope, my response this time is going to be, "You are right and I loved it. So, what shirts did you say you needed for the tennis game you have in, hmmm, what was that, 10 minutes? No problem, dear. Please, no, you go back to playing guitar for the nth hour. I know you had a hard day. I'm happy to do it."
And I'll try to mean it. Because we all deserve good days. I plan on taking three of them in a row starting now.
Writer. Mother.
