Dear husband (and children), Please do not take this personally, but I would prefer to not see you on Valentine’s Day. If you are stuck on what to buy as a gift, or what grand gesture to perform, please know I am easy. Skip the chocolate and roses (boring), and just… please…send me away. Give me the gift of a good night’s sleep and the ability to watch something other than Paw Patrol on TV. Book me a night in a hotel.
Every day I fantasize about sitting on the toilet alone, without having to hear, “Mommy, what you doing?” twelve hundred times from the other side of the door that I am keeping shut with my foot. I fantasize about taking a nap longer than 15 minutes, and about sleeping without the persistent and chest-tightening fear of hearing a baby cry. (Since becoming a parent, my greatest fear has shifted from clowns to being woken up as soon as I fall asleep.)
Seriously though, how horrendously awful is it to be woken up at the beginning of a sleep cycle? It’s like someone ripping the world’s largest Band-Aid off your soul.
Basically, I fantasize about being completely alone. It’s not that I don’t love you guys, because I do—and I would get in a knife fight for you—but I’m tired. And sleeping in a bed with sheets that are (probably) cleaner than my own for as long as I like sounds better than a night out with Beyonce. But just barely.
And finally, if you don’t feel comfortable sending me away, here are some other ideas: Hire a service to clean the toddler’s bathroom, your side of the sink, and the oven; get a vasectomy.
Love, your tired wife
Carrie Taylor is a freelance writer and mother of two boys.
