Picking Up After Leaving Off

Dear Mom,
I feel like we don't talk enough anymore, and that hurts...bad. After having lived with you for almost my entire life, and having occasion to talk at least once a day sets a pretty weighty precedence, and now it seems like I see you once a month - at best. We used to be best friends, back in the day, too. What happened to that?
Like I said, we used to be best friends. You don't have to tell me how cliche that sounds. I'm very well aware of it. But we were. I could talk to you about anything and everything - it was always in a dark room, facing different directions, but we could say whatever whenever we had the chance. I miss that. I miss my mom who had to know what I was doing when, and where; who used to enforce my phone curfew (even though I'm no longer obliged to obey that directive, being married, and all that). You always told me I wasn't ready to grow up, and I forever argued with you about that. Well guess what? I wasn't totally aware of how right you always were. I went and got myself in WAY over my head with this whole thing. Every day that we don't talk, I want that much more to reach out to tell you that I want and need you back in my day to day life, helping me figure out a lot of these situations.
Everything with [The Husband] is getting totally effed-up once again. Nothing I say or do is enough to get through his head. He doesn't hear what I hear, and everything is always about him...he has to bust his hump to take care of his family (cuz I'm sitting home, eating bon bons while the invisible nanny - that I hired in secret - takes care of the kids for me, didn't you know?); he has to take care of the kids the second he walks in the door, and gets no down time (even though he comes in and gets right on his computer straight away after work without saying word one to me, without acknowledging either of the kids, or even bothering to change out of his stinky work clothes, while I have a mild to moderate panic attack from being overstimulated all day); I expect him to do everything around the house, even after he works a long day at work (when in all reality, he comes in and proceeds to ignore everything while I continue to handle everything); he's the only one who can acceptably navigate through bedtime, so he gets no break there either (when he typically surfs the internet while his mother or I change diapers and clothes and make bottles, then I put the kids down to bed). In short, unless things totally benefit [The Husband], and make him look better, he doesn't do jack shit. It's really rather irritating and it kinda makes me wanna dig his eyes out with a rusty grapefruit spoon. Just once, I'd absolutely LOVE for him to put the rest of us; his own nearly self-created family; before himself. One day...one day I'll get mine.
I'm gonna continue to make my own way to keep "talking" to you more regularly. Completely disregard the fact that our "conversations" will really be "my" one-sided "conversations." We will refuse to acknowledge me making a fool of myself constantly. Ignore that one of my worse regular personal traits is under a magnifying glass to make it that much more blatantly obvious, you know?

I love you, Momma, always have, always will.
~Caitlin