Let me explain.
It’s not that I don’t love you; that I don’t like to cuddle with you; that you gross me out; or that I don’t like you touching me.
But, yes, sometimes, having your head in my lap makes my skin crawl.
It’s just that, at the end of the day, I’ve been touched too many times.
I’ve carried, and lifted, and buckled, and worn, and dressed, and undressed, and changed, and wiped, and washed, and held, and hugged, and kissed, and pushed, and pulled, and patted, and nursed, and rocked, and cuddled, and generally felt little people touching me all day.
So, when the end of the day comes, and we finally put our two, precious girls down to bed, I just want my body to myself.
I want to feel like a person—not a mom.
I think all day about how good it feels to have your arms wrapped around me, and how nice it is to cuddle on the couch and talk (uninterrupted!), and how much I miss all the casual touching of our pre-baby life—just a brush on the shoulder as you walked by.
And then reality hits, and the last thing I want is one more person asking me to simply stroke his hair.
No, don’t retreat to the other end of the couch now. Don’t leave me alone.
Because I do still need your touch, and I do still want to curl up close and hear about your day.
Just, don’t exactly expect me to look pleased when you lay on me.
I will be, eventually, but let me work up to the gratitude.
Because I love you, and I miss you when you’re gone, but I sometimes miss me, too.
Your Annoying and Complicated Wife