Life as an only child meant that I was the sole object of my parents’ affection and the recipient of their undivided attention. I didn’t have siblings to play with — or fight with — but I had plenty of toys and animals (real as well as stuffed) to occupy my time. I didn’t wear hand-me-down clothes, I didn’t have to wait for my turn in the bathroom, and I didn’t have to share the car.
…And then I got married and had two children.
Like it or not, feminists, my husband is head of the household in the sense that he works full-time and pays for the house, cars, utilities, and taxes. I consider myself a work-at-home mother, so my hours and pay are significantly lower. Therefore, I pay for groceries and anything the girls need. In short, he’s shelter, and I’m food and clothing. While we share financial responsibilities, he’s has tenure when it comes to household management…but I still have a voice in the matter.
Then, there are our two daughters, Ava and Maryn, aged 6 and 4 respectively. They come packaged as a unit given that they act like twins in so many ways. They share a room (and often a twin bed), play with each other’s dolls, use one another’s crayons, and drink out of the same cup when I’m not looking.
And then, there’s me. Mama’s in the middle.
I am happily married with two children whom I love, and three pets that I adore. Yet sometimes, I have to fight to be heard. I feel exactly like Noisy Nora, a product of writer Rosemary Wells, of the “Max and Ruby” cartoons on Nick Jr.
Noisy Nora is the middle mouse-child sandwiched between a brooding older sister and a squalling baby brother. If Nora wants to be heard, then she has to make considerable noise. Her ongoing fussiness becomes so routine after a while that even her noisy behaviors fall on deaf ears. It’s only when the noise stops that her family begins to listen.
A few nights ago, I was fretting over decisions that needed to be made and messes that needed to be cleaned up. I wanted someone — anyone — in the house to feel as burdened by these things as I did, yet no one seemed to care. Bags of trash needed to be taken out, loads of laundry needed sorted, the dog needed walked, the cat needed fed, homework needed checked, and baby teeth needed brushed. I became angry that no one felt as concerned about these tasks, and so I felt it was high time that I made some noise.
Noisy Nora broke a vase, and I shattered a glass in the sink. Noisy Nora flung paint all over the house, and I splattered fried chicken grease all over the cabinets. Noisy Nora slammed windows and doors, and I mashed potatoes until they resembled baby food. When Noisy Nora reached the end of her rope, she yelled at the top of her lungs, “I’M LEAVING!”. And she left.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to leave the house; I just wanted a break within it. I wanted to be a part of my family, not “apart” from them. More importantly, I didn’t want to feel guilty about it. Like Noisy Nora, I was throwing a tantrum; like the middle child, I wanted to be noticed.
Spoiled? Only the milk in the refrigerator. I wanted to be spoiled, not act spoiled. I wanted my husband, who had his priorities in order (the trash and the dishes and the dog and the cat can wait) to notice that I was upset. I wanted my children to stop finding reasons for me to get up the second a tried to sit down.
As Noisy Nora and I found out, sometimes disturbing the peace is the best way to achieve it.
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