I Know I'm Not Supposed to Say This

I'm Tired.

I've been really tired lately. Not in the I need a nap sense, although I could use a nap, and we all know how much I love napping, but in the working, mothering, wifing, and taking care of the house sense, I'm just tired. Of course, I increased my hours at work, but really I should be able to handle that.

Should is a word I use quite often. I should clean house, do laundry, shampoo the carpets, stock up the cupboards, make appointments, pay the bills, clear clutter and so on. I should do a lot of things, and I shouldn't really complain about any of it. I try not too.

I know women who manage these things so much better than I do. I shouldn't compare, situations are different.

My mother did all of these things with 3 kids. She was a nurse, and she was tired. She didn't even make it until her retirement age before her back gave out. She just couldn't do it anymore. Sometimes I think I'm like my mother, and that I will continue doing what I'm doing until my back can't take it anymore. She was a feminist, went to nursing school at age 17 and worked as a nurse for 30 years.

She told us girls, make sure you can support yourself, my dad made more money than she did, but her income made a huge difference. She did it all, and I wonder now if she thought it was worth it.

I told myself, I will be there for my kid. My mom was there, but there were times she was not physically present, and those were hard times for us kids. I still work outside the home like my mom did, but I work part-time, and I am home in the evenings, and at night. I could work full-time, but I honestly don't think I can handle more to deal with in less time. Two days off a week is just not enough anymore.

My father worked the grave yard shift for as long as I can remember. He still does. He's past retirement age, but he is scared to retire because of gas prices. He puts off his retirement for six months at a time. Now, he might retire in October. He has hardly missed a day of work in 30 years. He often cashes in his vacation hours, instead of taking vacation.

My husband works his butt off on an oil rig. He is gone for a week at a time, and then home for a week. He drives 9 hours to get to his job. He makes more than a lot of college graduates. He never complains, but I know he's tired too. His body hurts, he tells me every week that his shoulder hurts, and wonders what is wrong with it. His week off goes so very fast. I feel horrible when he gets in that car to start his long journey back.

I guess we're all happy. The funny thing is what people do with the money they make. They spend their whole lives working for a big house, newer cars, and all the stuff that fills these spaces up, then they die, and all that stuff is given away, or donated to goodwill. They get old and want a smaller house, with a smaller yard, they sell the big house, and downsize, the money ends up being spent on health care, or assisted living, if they are fortunate and the government permits it, they are able to leave a small amount of an inheritance to their children, who will most likely spend it on a new car, or a down payment on a new home, or pay off credit card debt.

As my dad says, "you never see any U-hauls at the cemetery". And he's right you know.

Although I've thought about going full-time to help with the ever increasing demand for our money, I don't really think it's worth it, yes, I have that luxury because my husband works full-time, he also makes 4 times what I make. Because of this, I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to make sure that he has all the comforts he wants when he is home. That means coming home to a clean house, nice meals, and clean clothes.

I drop the ball about half the time. I've spread myself too thin at times. I probably spend more time relaxing than I should. I probably should spend more time cleaning, and so on. When he comes home we enjoy spending every waking moment we have together. I don't get a lot done when he is home, but it sure is nice to spend time with him. He likes it too.

What am I complaining about? I think we have a good life even if our home is not fancy, or clean, or well decorated. Priorities. That's what is needed.