Retreating into Corners

I read that Huffington Post blog, What We Mean When We Say We Need a Break by Amanda King (see below) and I thought, Yes, I get it.  I’m with her.  Moms need mental breaks.  I was so pumped by this blog, I asked my husband to read it. It triggered a debate/ borderline argument.  From his point of view, he felt slighted.  In our family he is the main provider and he felt his day-to-day stresses were sloughed off with a jaunty disregard and an off-hand wave of thank you. I disagreed with him in a ‘cross my arms across the chest’ kind of way.  After all, the blog was written about how the mom feels about her short breathing space in the middle of her otherwise sealed way of life.  We both have our point of views.  They are both acknowledged in the post. 

And then I remembered about 2 months ago, I had a long few weeks and I was DONE.  Not in a bad way, just in a normal way from a mom with 2 young kids.  You know, in need of a mental break.  I couldn’t even motivate myself to wipe a butt over the weekend.  I left my husband for that.  He kind of did everything from soup to nuts that weekend, bless his soul.  We were at my parent’s house, which helped.  I just sat.  At the end of the 2 days, I found my husband upstairs in a back room with the door closed.  I opened the door at 8:30 pm and looked at him.  “Now you know why I retreat into corners,” I said.  He laughed.  He got it.  2 days and he got it.  “I’m sorry I didn’t help much.  I just needed a break.”  He understood.  More importantly, he sees how hard motherhood is.  Not parenting.  Nope.  Motherhood.  Being the mom.  Maybe he does get it?  Or maybe he just wants recognition as well…

I concede all of us need a short rest while in the middle of our lives. I reflect; take a breath, a break.  I do it often.  It is the only way to survive.  Before children and marriage, I used to shut my bedroom door, light a few candles and watch “My Best Friend’s Wedding” over and over again.  I used to fall asleep watching the same 3-4 movies.  I wrote in a journal, let calls go to voicemail, and found my balance.

Now, I don't have that kind of time.  When my husband walks in the door from work, sometimes I disappear.  Literally.  I’ll hear them saying in the background, “Where did mommy go?  Where’s mommy?”  I’m off in my corner.  I call it, Retreating into Corners.  That is where I’ll be.  That is where mommy is, in her time-out corner.  I’ll hear them.  I’ll kind of roll my eyes and say to myself, “Please don’t find me.”  Or I’ll hear, “awww, how cute, show mommy how cute you look.”  I want to say, “I KNOW!” I’ve seen it all day.  Now I need to NOT see it.”  Don’t find me.  I’m hiding in the closet.  Or, I’ll be in the chair with a book…next to my bed with a computer on my lap…sitting in the basement staring off into space. “Honey, what are you doing?” “ “Just sitting,” ie. leave me alone.

For me, retreating into corners is my way of shutting out the fights over dolls and toys.  Forgetting about how many times I am fulfilling requests and answering questions.  I try and tune out catching spilled milk before it happens and whatever else drama I try and avoid throughout the day.  My husband's way of retreating into corners or getting that so-called break is playing golf, watching football, toying with fantasy football, sitting on the can, and/or ignoring the trash can for a day.

We all need a mental break; men and women alike.  They need to know we understand.  We need to know they understand.  We ALL need to find our corners.  Whatever we do in our corners is well…up to us.

Nothing has changed. This has been the argument since the beginning of time.  Even though we argued about it, I know we both understand each other.  In the end, we just want understanding.  It’s a human need.  It is called empathy.

I wonder what Mrs. Cavewoman would say to Mr. Caveman, maybe how dark the cave is, how her little cave rugrats were testing her cave patience from sunup to sundown, how she couldn’t get the lice out of all the hair and fur lying around… how he was gone too long hunting game and fish, how she had to light the fire to keep out the wild animals at the door…Maybe just maybe he understood even as he labored home with the winter’s store up of food on his shoulders, maybe he winked at Mrs. Caveman and took the kid’s berry picking or kicking the stones around the barren ground, just maybe…

And then Mrs. Cavewoman would pick up a pictured stone to read, put up her hairy feet and watch the sun go down content with the thought that he understands.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/amanda-king/stay-at-home-parent_b_2558642.html