When I fell in love with my husband, I fell in love with all of him. He?s a funny, critical and brilliant musician and producer who loves food, satire and fighting for what?s right in the world. It never really occurred to me that the musician part was going to pose a problem.
But my husband is a touring musician, which means he?s away for long stretches?weeks, sometimes months on end?where he?s only available to talk on the phone for a few minutes at a time. There are small breaks in between when I resent him and rage because he?s messing with my flow (leaving piles of change, guitar picks and receipts like sticky obstacle courses through the house), and then we fall back in love all over again. But like everything else, his chosen profession got so much harder after we had our son.
It?s so unbelievably hard when it?s just my son and me. I feel a crushing fatigue that never really lifts, no matter how much chocolate or caffeine I inhale. I plan playdates and buy birthday presents and shuttle the small boy from parties to karate to soccer to piano. I swallow the feelings of invisibility that surround me. The person I remember myself being feels so very far away?dancing until my feet hurt, sleeping in, going to movies?it?s all gone. I?m on the treadmill to the next PA day or trip to the grocery store. Once, I got in the car and drove all the way to Ikea just so I could cry in a clean bed. And my son becomes my confidante, asking me how my day was, did...