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19th January 2020
08:00am GMT

I’m a mom to two boys, age 6 and 3. They’re super cute. They’re also crazy as shit. But cute.
I work a very fast-paced job in the top tier of management. My job is amazing. Every day is exciting there, even if it’s extremely challenging work at times. I have amazing colleagues and the field we work in is amazing (space exploration). I’ve been in the same room as Buzz Aldrin 3 times this year. I get to travel to interesting locations. I love being at work. It’s like being paid to go to space camp everyday.
Then I come home. The house is a complete mess. There’s not a single clean area to sit down out. There’s screaming, crying, fighting from the kids nonstop. Complete chaos. My husband is a stay at home dad and he quite literally does everything for us. We made a deal that if I work and he’s at home he’ll do it all. I am grateful for how much he does, but in some ways—maybe he’s not very good at it? I can’t tell because I’ve never had to do it myself. The laundry is done and there’s dinner on the table, but the house is like a walk-in trash can, the dishes are piled up, everything is sticky, and the kids are terribly behaved. The house I’m working hard to pay for isn’t enjoyable to be in at all.
I find no joy in being home. The kids don’t listen to me. The dirtiness of the house causes me a lot of anxiety. The screaming and fighting literally gives me chest pains. I hate that everything with these kids is so hard. They won’t just listen and do what we ask—every little thing is a battle. I go on sprints and clean the house and then they just destroy it in seconds. I try to help with the kids but they’re so poorly behaved, which I sort of blame on my husband because he’s practically raising them, it feels like I’m starting with an unfair disadvantage. I can’t be sure, but I often wonder if I were the one at home raising them they’d be better behaved. I’m tired constantly because my job is mentally exhausting and then I don’t get enough sleep because the kids end up in our bed in the middle of night and wake us up.
There’s no joy in any of this.
I feel terribly terribly TERRIBLY guilty for feeling this way. I’d rather be at work. In fact I often stay late just so I can avoid being home. I love my husband and my kids so much, but I can’t find any joy when I’m at home. There’s nothing redeeming about it. Little glimpses of cuteness with the kids but they are fleeting. Definitely, I hate to say, not enough to override all the stressful parts that dominate my time with them.
Sorry for the rant. Has anyone else felt this way?
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