Done being Mommy.

I need some time alone every day.  I crave that time alone, and have been known to become rather cantankerous when I don't get enough of it.  When I've been engaged in conversations for long periods of time, I feel my energy draining and my ability to interact deteriorates.  I've taken the Myers-Briggs test enough times to know that I am a classic introvert.  I am comfortable with that label.  It suits me fine.

My kids, however, exhibit extroverted tendencies at their young, tender ages.  While I realize their personalities are still developing and emerging, it would not surprise The Husband and me if they all grow up to be gregarious extroverts like their father. 

Needless to say, the introvert in me is zapped by the constant  People Time that defines my day as Mommy.  By the time The Husband gets home, I've had as much interaction as I can take.  I am Done.  Done with questions that mostly involve the word Why.  Done with requests for 337 snacks.  Done with distracting, re-directing, diverting, etc.  Done with Dora, Barbie, Tinker Toys, Legos, Curious George and every other single toy-game-book we have in the house.  Done with tantrums, sibling altercations and end-of-the-day whining.   I am Done with being Mommy.  Done.  Done.  Done.

Fortunately, The Husband is an excellent Husband and Daddy who understands introverted Mommy is a better Mommy and Wife after she's had her alone time.  He tries to give me as much of a break as possible once he steps through the door.  The children are delighted to see their daddy and vice versa, so I quickly make my escape.  I hole up in the farthest point in the house away from everyone and rock in a corner attempt to reset.  I read.  I knit.  I catch up on the internet.  Anything, as long as it is done in solitude.

Soon, way too soon, however, I hear The Husband calling for me.  Or the kids come find me.  It's Family Time.  Dinner.  More conversation.  I try not to snap at The Husband, who just wants to talk to me, to find out about our day.  I feel attacked from all sides as the four people I love most in the world will.not.shut.up.

The bedtime routine is the final straw.  Doing jammies, teeth, books, songs, prayers, tuck-ins--and heaven forbid it be a bath night!--absolutely does me in since none of it can be done in complete silence.  I collapse at the end of it, unable to form coherent sentences, with my eyes glazed over and my mind gasping for alcohol and a padded room complete isolation.

And the next day, it begins all over again...

Adapted from her blog for DC Metro Moms.

Michelle really does love her life as a Wife and Mommy!