"I am so SICK of softball!!!!" I yelled, with tears in my eyes, fists clenched at the side of my waist.

My husband looked back at me, shock and a bit of confusion on his face, as any husband (or normal person, for that matter) would do.

He just couldn't understand why I was so upset. And even though I couldn't articulate it at that particular moment, I knew deep down why.

Every Sunday my husband, along with many other members of his family, gather at a local sports park to watch the men play softball. While at first the whole thing started out small about 2 years ago, it eventually blew up and now the teams are actually quite good and it's become almost a past time for them. They live for the game, eat, sleep, and breathe it, and I have to admit that it's brought us all closer together as a family, as we count on each Sunday seeing each other and sharing in some good clean fun.

Now don't get me wrong; I love that we all get together and that this time makes my husband so happy. Really, you should see him, excitedly chattering on about the latest bat to have come out or why a certain type of glove is better than the other with his teammates. But something has always nagged me, and sometimes that nagging came off as a negative outlook on his playing softball. I'd get angry that he got to go play every Sunday and have fun, while I had to deal with a cranky toddler in the bleachers.

I always pushed it to the back of my mind though, as I did not want to be one of THOSE wives who never let her husband do anything without her. Those are the type of men who get frustrated and feed in to the old "ball and chain" stereotype. However it always bothered me. This came to a head when, during a short period of time when he was obsessed with buying the latest bat and that was literally all he could talk about, I blew up at him and expressed this anger and resentment at him in an avalanche of tears and shouts. He was simply blown away and at first didn't know what to say.

After calming down he quietly said, "Why don't you just go do something you like to do?" HUH? I shook my head. "Why not? I'm here, go do something and I can spend time with Noah while you go have fun." Now, here's where the thing of it all comes in: My initial reaction was to say no, that I already work 40 hrs a week and that the rest of my free time, other than the occasional visits with my equally as busy mom friends, was to be with my husband and son. The GUILT, the ever infamous and torturous MOMMY GUILT was creeping in, saying that if I went to have fun I'd be a bad mom for leaving my son and that seeking my own fun without my husband and son was selfish.

I said no, after which my husband said to me, "you know, you're frustrated because you never get to do anything that's completely about you. " I couldn't believe how swiftly he'd hit the nail on the head. He was right. Other than while working, I never did anything that was completely about me, never did anything that I enjoyed doing on a regualr basis. I've always dreamed of writing, I love dancing, and I would love to take dance classes and learn to do hair and makeup someday. But I always stifled these desires.This in turn produced frustration on my part towards him for "getting" to go have fun while I still played mom on the sidelines. I always thought that by doing something I liked to do I'd miss something Noah did, or he'd miss me and resent me. But then I thought, doesn't he love my husband equally as much, even though my husband plays for 3-4 hours every Sunday? Does my husband's taking time to do something he enjoys make my son love him any less than he loves me? No. It doesn't.

So I've made a vow to rediscover what I like doing. What makes me me, where I'm no one's mom or wife, just ME. I started by taking a dance class on Wednesday sans hubby, and though I've only been to one so far, I'm hooked. Hey! I thought. This was fun, and it was all me. This led to the realization that taking time for me, to do something that I truly enjoy that has nothing to do with anyone but me, is truly rejuvenating, makes you feel more whole as a person, and honestly makes you a better, happier mom.

After I came home from that class I found my son asleep in his crib, I realized that even though I went to dance class that night and missed one bath and bedtime story, he'd wake up the next morning, loving him mommy just as much as he did the day before.