The Night Mommy Ran Away

Well, not quite.....but I seriously wanted to.

I love my family.....I love my kids and my husband.....and I love being a mom.  But sometimes.....just sometimes.....I'd like to have ONE day where I'm not taken for granted.

Overall, I'd like to think I've done a good job of keeping everything running smoothly.  When you're a military family, you do the best you can.  I will give My Marine credit though.....because when he is home, he helps out.....he'll grill, he'll clean, he'll do laundry without me asking, and he'll do so much more.  After many years, I've finally learned that it's ok to let him help and that, just because I stay home, it doesn't mean that he's criticizing me or thinking that I'm not "doing my job" when he does chip in to help.

But I DO expect our girls to do their part.  They have assigned chores for each day and I expect those chore to be done.  I'm not a mean taskmaster....but I give them what they can handle......dusting, vacuuming, keeping their rooms clean, and cleaning the bathrooms.  Yep -- my 6 and 10 year old girls clean the bathrooms now.  My 10 year old has been doing her own laundry for a year now.

But yet there is still a disconnect.....a time where I feel like all I do is nag and remind and pick up and wipe up and throw away and the list goes on and on.  I was starting to feel taken for granted.

And on Thursday I was pushed me to my breaking point.  I had one too many:

*  Snack wrappers to pick up and throw away
*  Dirty dishes to put in the sink
*  Toys to pick up
*  Laundry baskets to fold
*  Fights to break up

And then came dinner time when I discovered that we were totally out of dog food and toilet paper...(the two things the girls are responsible for letting me know when we're running low.)  And silly Mommy didn't use her magic powers of premonition to keep that mental grocery list rolling in her head.

I felt my blood pressure rising and knew that I was close to a breaking point.  I grabbed my car keys, my purse, a book and went downstairs to tell My Marine that I was leaving.  He was startled and stunned and I just told him that I needed to leave or I was going to lose it.  The girls were like "Mommy are you going somewhere....Mommy where are you going."  I didn't even answer them.....I just left.

I pulled out of the driveway, put all the windows down, opened the sunroof and turned my iPod on to my "Mad Music"......the music group, Disturbed......and turned the volume up to 20.  As I let the music seep into my soul, I didn't care who around me could hear it.  At traffic lights, I would simply just sit and take deep breaths.

I drove to Barnes and Noble.  I ordered a venti green tea frappacino with extra whipped cream.  I sat in a back section of the store, in comfy chairs surrounded by a 40-yr. old man reading comic books and laughing out loud, a 60-yr. old grandma reading books on space and aliens, and a 70+ year old man reading cookbooks.

I stayed for almost 2 hours.

When I finally did get home, I talked to My Marine and told him that he HAD to talk to the girls again about them helping out.  We're facing two weeks of training, followed shortly by 4 weeks of school for him.  I NEED them to help me out.

They're at an age now where they have to understand that while they THINK I do it all.....I CAN NOT do it all.

Oh, and I know that this is a battle as old as time......and that I will probably be in this place again and again and again......and we'll be having these talks again and again and again.......

And Mommy will probably run away again and again and again.......

But maybe....just maybe.....Mommy needs to go on strike.

Have you gone on strike?  How have you dealt with feeling of being taken for granted?  How have you gotten your family to recognize that they, too, need to help out around the house?