First world problem, and a first world syndrome.

Most days are OK. In the grand scheme of things, I do OK. I don't get too mad at the kids when they play up, act out or forget their homework in school. I take deep breaths and get on with things without snapping.

Some days are not so good.

The 2-year old will act out in play-group. He will snatch toys away from other children, or he will (it has happened) hit another boy over the head for no apparent reason. He will throw tantrums all day and nothing seem to be working to stop him. I try to diffuse the melt-downs by taking him to the playground or going for a walk, but if I'm unlucky it will only add to his frustrations and we will both end up feeling exhausted. Pick up time at school will be a nightmare because of road-works. I get there late and will miss curb-side pick up and will have to park and walk in to school and have to carry a hefty 2-year old three blocks and then back again. My back will be aching, my head will be pounding. My husband will call and tell me he'll be home late so I have to prepare dinner, help with home-work (while fighting off a jealous and attention-seeking boy from my leg), do night routine, bath routine, violin-practice, clean the rabbit hutch, tidy up and do reading with my daughter by myself. And through out this the kids will fight, argue, scream and cry. The noise level will be unbearable and I have not had a minute to myself all day. I feel exhausted, drained, un-attractive, tired and haggard, not to mention ugly and un-sexy. I'm in my mid-thirties but my body is aching like it had lived a 70-year long life.
Was this what I signed up for?
Exactly where, on the road towards starting my fabulous life did things go so horribly wrong?
Those are the days when I feel like packing a bag and just drive away from it all. Forget that I have a family. Forget that I am a mother, a wife and a person I don't really enjoy being anymore.

No, this was not what I signed up for, and yet, there seem to be no way out.
Dark days, indeed.

It doesn't seem to matter how much I try to cut down on our social life. I still feel stressed out to the point of breaking down. I have consciously not signed up the kids to too many activities. I turn down dinner and drinks invitations, and I make sure that the weekends are free from obligations, just so that we can rest, and recharge our batteries, yet it doesn't seem to be enough.
How much more can I cut down? There isn't anything else to cut from.

Is this a problem that only concerns mothers in the city? Would things get easier if we moved to small village in the country? Or do I just have to accept that this is it. My life as a broken down wreck of a thirty-something on a road to nowhere?

Dar, dark days, indeed.

I close my eyes and hope for a better, sunnier day tomorrow.

Hit him with a stick for crying out loud, and if that doesn't work, stop making his dinner for him!

I have more than one friend with this problem, but one friend in particular is annoyed with her husband for never getting up at weekends and deal with the kids. So all week, he has to sleep because he needs his beauty-S for work, and at weekends, he needs to sleep in because he's had such a stressful week at work. Well, Hello? This is such a cliche I can't believe I'm using it, but since when was home-making (I hate that word BTW) not hard work? Since when did taking care of children not require anything but the sharpest head?
- What does he think you do all day? I ask.

My friend belongs to the more dedicated of mothers, not fully an alpha, but close enough. She drives her SUV around town all day, picking up and dropping off and scheduling activities and has time to do a pot-roast and has all the tupper ware to go with it too, I mean, the woman is a Hellrazer as far as I'm concerned. At ten o'clock she's exhausted and drops dead in bed. She hasn't read a book in years. She has no idea what goes on culturally, she doesn't even know Reality TV, it was that long since she sat down in front of a screen that didn't show Elmo.

Meanwhile, after work her husband still has time to play Tennis, go to the gym, play a few rounds of golf, and comes home to home cooked-warmed up dinners, peaceful silence and no arguments over the remote control. And he gets to sleep in at weekends while she's up making pan cakes and getting the kids ready for soccer practice.
- What would he do if you wanted to go back to work? I ask her. Would he start doing his share of the work at home?
- Maybe, she says. Thing is, he doesn't really enjoy house-work?
Well, who the F*** does?
- And he wouldn't know what to do with the kids, I mean, that's my job.

Honey, your kids are your kids, not your job, and you had them with your husband, and you made this decision together. Did he think it was something that would be fun but that he didn't need to take any responsibility in dealing with them?
My friend needs to get a grip of her life and shake some sense in to that husband of hers. He's not suddenly gonna wake up one day with an urge to do something nice for his wife. She needs to beat him over the head with a stick: "This is our family, this is our home and our children, we started it together and we work it together and we share this, all of it, the good and the bad."