Sometimes I hate my boyfriend.
And being a stay at home mom.
And...oh yeah, my life.
I know I'm not supposed to complain.
From an outsider's perspective things probably don't look so bad.
But sometimes I feel like a prisoner in my own home.
My boyfriend's a good guy, he really is.
He works at a job he's grown to hate just so that I can stay home and take care of our daughter and for that, I truly appreciate him but what he doesn't understand is that
I WORK TOO!
Much, much harder than he does.
Because when you're a stay at home mom, hell, ANY kind of mom
YOUR JOB NEVER ENDS.
I don't get sick time, vacation time, lunch breaks or weekends off.
Hell, I don't get to shit, shower or even shave my legs without my daughter barging her way into the bathroom with me.
Once upon a time I had a life.
I lived in Boston and took the Red line to work everyday.
I exercised at Healthworks five mornings a week, took classes at Umass part-time, and on weekends I went to the Kendall Square theater to see all of the movies Ebert had raved about the week before.
I did all of these things blissfully alone.
Now, my alone time consists of the hour or so I get before the baby wakes up each morning and the few minutes I can keep my eyes open after she goes to bed at night.
I know that this will all be worth it one day.
But today...I just needed to bitch.
