“I don’t want to go to daycare.”
“I don’t like school.”
“I want to stay home with you, Mommy.”
I’ve been hearing a lot of these statements from Biz lately.
At first, the mom guilt sunk in. Maybe I wasn’t spending enough time with him. Maybe he’s having a hard time at preschool or daycare.
“Don’t worry, Mommy. I’ll play quietly by myself while you work in your office. I won’t bother you,” he says as he spins on the office chair reserved for clients, holding a stack of my business cards spread out like playing cards in his hands.
This one killed me. He knows I work from home and can’t entertain him if he stays home with me.
“But won’t you miss playing with your friends all day?” I try to remind him of the fun he has when he’s away from me during the day. Oftentimes, he has a hard time leaving at 4pm when I pick him up.
But he’s been unusually difficult lately. Not unruly, just constantly debating with me. About everything.
Then I realized it’s tax season. I’ve been through this before with G.
Being married to a CPA means that Dad disappears between January and April 15th. He leaves early in the morning and doesn’t come home until after the kids are in bed. As we get closer to April, I’m lucky if I see him before I go to bed. He works on weekends. Though he is religious about family dinner and movie night on Fridays and is the one that gets the kids ready for their day every morning, this absence takes its toll on everyone.
They don’t always know how to express it, but the boys miss their dad. And so do I.
There are days when it’s too much for me. There are just too many people relying on me. Or so it feels. Being the sole CEO of a business and a family 24 hours per day is taxing. (Could the word tax have more negative meaning to it?) Little things bring me to tears, and I raise my voice for no reason a few too many times.
But I also know this is only temporary. And if we really need Dad, he’ll be there for us. Like when our puppy, Hana, got stuck under the deck on a Monday morning, and I couldn’t get her out. Or when he surprised me for a quick one-night getaway to Sugarloaf. He seems to know when I’m about to crack and need some time away.
I have so much respect and admiration for single moms and military wives. I don’t know how they do it.
I also know that tax season is as hard on my husband as it is on us.
So for now, I’m lax with the rules. Dancing and singing is allowed at the dinner table. The constant loud burping and farting followed by giggles is slightly more tolerated. I’ll let them watch a little extra television or play an extra game on their tablet every now and then. We’ll read just one more book before going to bed, and I’ll give 17 more hugs before I leave them to sleep.
It’s the little things that keep us sane during tax season.
Right now, this is my theme song. Because I have to remember, it’s nice to be alive. (And, yes, I also blast this and dance with my kids. Swears and all.)
And it’s nice to be alive
It’s all right
It’s nice to be alive
“It’s Nice To Be Alive” by Ball Park Music