It’s probably not a good sign when I title my post with alcoholic references before 7am. But that is what comes with dealing with 4 sons and a husband in various stages of “duh” on a 24/7/365 basis. Sometimes I almost believe it is a Y-chromosomal conspiracy to force me into a corner, babbling and drooling unattractively. Either that, or it is some kind of contest among the 5 of them to see who drives me insane first. If it is the latter, they are fairly evenly matched at the moment, but the day is young so that is sure to change by bed time.
Being the lone female in a house of menfolk can be a lot like living in a locker room, without the hot, rich men in tight pants. It can be smelly, loud, obnoxious and frequently male-exclusive. It is like what I imagine living among aliens with a superiority complex over humans would be like, without the nasty anal probing, of course. In other words, I am adrift in a sea of testosterone. Without a paddle. Without a life boat for that paddle. Hell, most days I don’t even have the dinky red and white floating ring. Vodka would help.
I remember the days when I still had an identity. You know, something other than “But, Mom,…” or “Honey, do you know where,…”. <insert sigh> Once I was a soldier; I had a purpose, a mission. I helped other soldiers. Then I traded my combat boots for flip flops, and apparently lost my identity as a person right along with them. Being a SAHM is not an easy job. The pay is crappy, the benefits few and far between. There is no chance for promotion. Acknowledgment and appreciation are rare, and usually are recieved with the attitude of a lion tamer facing a truly pissed off lion. You know the one,… the “I need to calm this bitch down” attitude. All words, no sincerity. You lose all sense of yourself as an individual. Sometimes I feel more camouflaged now than I ever did when I actually wore camouflage! They don’t see me, Kim. They look right through me. Until they need something.
It’s kind of funny, in a really not so funny way. So much of life in this house revolves around all of them. They are each wholly concerned with themselves and their own lives, interests, and needs. All those things that are so important to them, but when the role is reversed, my own life, interests, and needs are treated as impositions, as burdens. As if by trying to be me as opposed to Mom/Wife, I am intruding on their lives. But yet I am the one that runs the household, takes care of everyone. I am the one that everyone comes to for help.
I miss Kim. I miss me. So,… where’s the vodka?!