People with kids are 7% less happy

Several years ago, before I became a mom, I read a magazine article that included a “study” on whether or not people with kids are happier than those without. The author used quantifiers for happiness like money, sleep, leisure time, time with your spouse, vacation, etc. The finding was daunting: People with kids are LESS happy than those without. The author actually came up with a percentage and it was something like 7% LESS happiness.

I was reminded of this article Saturday night as I lay bawling my eyes out on the couch telling Mike that there is no way I can be a good wife AND a good mom and that either he or Oli was going to get the short end of the stick when it came to my energy or affection. Gone were our hopes of a relaxing Saturday night in the hot tub with a bottle of wine as snot and tears trickled down my face and shoulder shaking sobs racked my body.

Let me back up a little: 

A couple of weeks ago, we entered a new “Mommy Phase.” I’m not sure what is spurring this but suddenly Olivia needs my undivided attention 100% of the time and I am the ONLY person who can help her with anything. For instance, if she needs a glass of water, she’ll come up to me, tugging on whatever article of clothing she can grab, whine “I want water!!!!” and then throw herself on the ground if I don’t respond immediately. And if I’m busy with something else (making dinner, washing dishes, taking a pee) Mike will offer to help her. Her response? “NO DADDY DO IT!!!” She is determined that it will be ME who assists her in all things.

If I am sitting in the room with her while she is playing and my attention is on nothing else, all is happy and well. Heaven forbid though that I get a phone call or Mike and I try to have a conversation or I need to blow my nose. She will drop whatever she is doing, come find me, and demand “Mommy, I hold you!” until I pick her up. And if I don’t pick her up, she’ll grab both of my legs and bury her head between them until I do. Now, I’m not sure if the child is trying to make her way back up the birth canal or if kids are like dogs and examining your butt is a way for them to get to know you better or what and I don’t really care. The last thing I need is a rectal exam by my 2 year old.

It is exhausting and heart wrenching to not have an inch of personal space or to be able to have an uninterrupted conversation with ANYONE. The sad part is that in the morning, as I am trying to get 2 lunches packed, 2 breakfasts made, both of us dressed, teeth brushed, and the house in some kind of order, all I want to do is stop to hold her. But I can’t. Because telling my boss “Oh, I’m sorry, my kiddo needed extra snuggle time this morning,” isn't going to go very far to explain why I’m 30 minutes late.

And truthfully, there are times when I just don’t want to hold her. She’s heavy. I have a bad back. Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to eat dinner without someone sitting on my lap, putting their fingers in my food, and knocking my ice water into my lap. Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to sit on the pot in peace without having to respond to things like “Mommy, what IS that?” or “I have a booger!” Is that asking too much? Really???

This Saturday was no exception to this recent behavior and by the end of it, I was emotionally and physically spent.

Getting ready to get out of the house was challenging as I showered while Olivia banged on the shower door. I was reminded of one of those zombie movies where someone has barricaded themselves in a closet or small room while the zombies drag their hands across the surface of the door, trying to find some small entrance. And you kind of know that even though that person is safe temporarily, the zombies ARE going to find a way in and that will be the end of that character. Periodically, I would open the shower door and say "It's okay, I'm right here. I'll be out in a minute," shutting the door quickly so she couldn't climb in.

While at my nephew’s football game, things were a little better since Olivia had her cousins to play with. But, of course, during the awards ceremony, she was on a mission to find me since I was busy taking pictures for my sister. I managed to elude her only to find her later following some other brunette lady around, pathetically holding her arms up, sunglasses askew, whining “Mommy!!!” I should have yelled out to Olivia that that was not me. But, again like a zombie movie, sometimes someone has to be sacrificed so the others can get away so I just stood by and enjoyed having a moment to myself. If by some strange coincidence you are reading this, my apologies to you, poor brunette lady who apparently looks like me, for leaving you to fend for yourself against my crazed child.

My small reprieve didn't last long though.  Olivia's refusal to walk to the car by herself resulted in me carrying her as she pulled my pony tail and tried to poke me in the eye through my sunglasses. And as I felt the first drop of sweat roll leisurely down my back into my butt crack, I knew this was going to be a long afternoon.

We had plans to go to a festival downtown and check out our new city. The minute we were out of the car, the whining demand to be held was taken up with full force by The Boss Lady. In a moment of complete frustration, I said “I can’t carry you through this whole damn festival!” The audible gasps from the apparently perfect-never-say-a-curse-word-or-lose-their-patience-in-front-of-their-children parents was a sign that I was probably at the end of my rope.

The rest of the afternoon was a roller coaster of smiles and tears and when we got home, I was relieved to be able to sit down. And it was nice. Until I had to get up to make dinner. And though all was peaceful watching Happy Feet just seconds before, suddenly my audacity to get up to make dinner was just too much for my sweet daughter. Away we went once more with insistent pleas to be held, requests for crackers/water/candy/a different movie in the DVD player every 30 seconds, and my eventual relinquishment of the wine glass in favor of just drinking straight from the bottle.

During dinner, after repeated refusals to eat her dinner and stripping of her clothes, Olivia’s behavior sent me over the edge. As I sat there trying to eat, she stood by my chair whining “I sitta Mommy wap!” She tried to squeeze her little body between mine and the table as I asked her time and again to please just let me eat. At some point, I just put my head in my hands and tried to just go into my internal happy place. “You okay, Steph?” Mike asked. I shook my head "No." I couldn't even talk. What was the point of trying to explain myself? I would only be interrupted by more whining and toddler commotion.

That night, Mike gave Olivia her bath and put her to bed for the first time in 6 weeks. Let me be clear: My husband will help out with anything with Olivia but she REFUSES to let him put her to bed so I have to be out of the state for her to agree to that. However, Saturday night I think they both sensed that I needed a moment of peace.

As I sat on the couch, imagining myself on a secluded beach equipped with a never ending pina colada fountain, I started wondering “What is it that I’m doing wrong that my child feels like she has to cling to me all of the time? Am I not giving her enough attention? Am I not around enough where she feels like she gets enough time with me?”  

I got frustrated by the fact that I am not even able to have a conversation WITH MY OWN HUSBAND without her freaking out that my attention is not solely on her. It took Mike and I 3 days to finish a conversation last week. THREE DAYS!!!!

Last weekend, when he and I went for a night away for our anniversary, it was AMAZING. I loved getting to talk to him about whatever we wanted without being interrupted. I loved being able to take our time at dinner and enjoy just sitting quietly at times. It. Was. HEAVEN.

Look, I fully recognize that all of Oli’s behavior is typical 2 year old behavior. I know it’s normal. I know it’s just part of this age/phase. I know these things. But that doesn't make it easy. I miss my husband. I miss being able to talk with him. He will ALWAYS be more important to me than any other person on this planet. He is second only to God. And that’s the way it should be. But lately, I feel torn between giving my energy and affection to Olivia and having very little or nothing left over for Mike. He is gracious and understanding of this because I think he feels a little the same way, but I looked forward all day Saturday to sitting with him that night, enjoying a nice soak in the hot tub, enjoying conversation and just time with him. And that all went out the window with my sanity. That’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to me. My 7 year old self is stomping her feet, flailing her hands and yelling “IT’S NOT FAIR!!!”

I love Olivia Anne with my entire soul and I just wish I could find a way to balance her needs with my own and with Mike’s. It is really hard.

As I cried myself to sleep Saturday night, feeling like I had failed Olivia that day, feeling like I had cheated Mike, feeling like I didn't even have anything left for myself, I was reminded of that article I read so many years ago. Were we LESS happy now that we had a child?

Then Sunday happened. 

Yesterday, Mike had plans to have a guys’ day at NASCAR and I planned to stay home and spend the day with Oli. After Saturday’s events, I was a little anxious. But yesterday turned out to be the stuff that baby product commercials are made of. You know, the ones where the parents are snuggling their little babies and everyone is smiling and the baby is just so happy and the sun is shining and pretty much everyone has rainbows coming out of their tail ends?

Yeah, that was my day on Sunday. Though we did have one whining instance early in the day, the rest was very nearly perfect. We walked to the park and played for about an hour. Olivia brought her baby doll along and I got so much joy watching her help her baby slide down the slide or swing on the swings. We went to lunch, we had ice cream, she took a nap while I decorated for fall, and we finished the day with dinner at my grandparents. At bedtime, as I read her stories and sang her songs, I felt SO SAD that my day with her was ending. It was a complete 180 from the day before.

Last night, as I fell asleep, the answer to that article from so long ago came to me. For so long, I really couldn't put my finger on why people would have kids if they were going to be LESS happy than their child free counterparts. Why would anyone make themselves LESS happy?

The answer: Sunday.

The things that make you “happy” as a parent aren't all of the things you think are going to and they aren't at all quantifiable. I cannot explain the joy I got from watching my daughter put her baby doll on the slide next to her and count to 3 as they both slid down. I cannot explain how at peace I felt sitting on the patio at the ice cream shop, with 2 spoons and a giant ice cream sundae sitting in front of us. I cannot explain the overwhelming love I felt reading to my kiddo at the end of the day and smelling her freshly washed baby hair.

Try to add all of that up. There’s no calculator in the world that has a number big enough for the percentage of happiness that stuff brings.

As for the other stuff: getting to use the bathroom by myself or eating dinner without toddler fingers being in my food. Well, I’m not sure I’ll never say the word “damn” ever again but my logical self knows that this is just a phase. My more emotional self, well, she knows where we keep the wine.

The hardest part is still finding time for Mike and I to just be “us.” That’s not something I have an answer for today. BUT I feel extremely blessed that I have a husband that I can talk to and vent to when I feel overwhelmed. I am blessed to have a partner who is truly my other half, who fills in the gaps, who gives me room and space and time to find a balance. And together, we look forward to and know that there will be a day when we’ll call Olivia on the phone and ask how her kids are. She’ll vent to us about how hard it is and how she needs a break. We’ll sympathize and then tell her we have to go because our flight to some tropical beach locale is awaiting us.

In the meantime, I’ll just keep looking forward to Sundays.