There are moms that work. There are moms that stay home. There are single moms. Rich moms. Poor moms. But there's one thing they all have in common: Unbelievably Shitty Days. That's right. I feel like moms today are afraid to say that mommyhood isn't always fun. That sometimes you want to run screaming to the nearest rock and hide under it and pray that those little feet don't follow you. Look, I love my kids. More than anything in this world. But I simply cannot lie and say it's all rainbows and butterflies all the damn time. Let's talk about a recent event, shall we? And by event, I mean day, like hours of back to back shit.
Tuesday morning. It started out normal. You know, wake up late and make the whole family suffer thru my yelling and rushing because I couldn't wake up on time. The threats. 'If you don't get out of bed by the time I count to three, no tablet for you tonight' or 'I swear to God I will leave you home and you can hitchhike to school'. Stop judging. You say the same things too. We make it downstairs just in time for the soccer meltdown. The older one has soccer at 6pm while the younger one doesn't have it until Thursday. Try explaining that to an already over emotional 3 year old. The kicking and screaming begins. I couldn't even tell you why. Does it matter at this point? Finally under moderate control, strapped in the car and off to daycare.
I was already late for work before I opened my eyes. No need to ponder on this. This is a standard in my world. I literally have to plan weeks in advance if I have to be at work on time on a particular day. It's not pretty and lucky for me doesn't occur often. Where was I? Oh right, at work, late. I come into demanding people and tons of emails. I think 'why can't I be a stay at home mom'...then I realize, the kids would be with me. I survive the morning then it's off to the grocery store for my lunch break to pick up the stuff I don't have time to get after work. And then it happens...moms, you know the feeling when your phone rings and you see the daycare or school's number flash across the screen. And it's always at the worst time. You're in a meeting. Your're in stirrups at the gynocologist. You're wrapped in foils getting your hair highlighted on the one day in 3 months that you could squeeze it in. And you know what you have to do. Drop everything. Ctrl-Alt-Delete your life and go. This time it's the claim that my son has ring worm. I know he doesn't. I tell them this. Doesn't matter, we need a doctor's note. Back to work, attend short meeting, out the door for daycare. Which by the way is back near my house. Where is the doctor? Back where I work. Are you dizzy yet? Get the kid and manage my way in the door as the doctors office is minutes from closing. Examination. Confirmed, just a rash, like I said. Don't forget the note or he can't go back to school.
Back in the car and off to the house to pick of soccer ball we left home. Leave kid in car. Back in car and off to get older kid for his soccer. Both kids strapped in and down the road to McDonald's. I literally made my kids promise that they wouldn't have to poop since there are no bathrooms at soccer. That's right, no bathrooms. Is this county kidding? Hit up the drive thru, start eating, get to soccer with 20 minutes to spare. I can finally breath. I put a movie on and the kids happily eat their cheeseburgers. Did I mention this is the first practice of the season?
5:55pm, soccer starts in 5 minutes. One kid has to poop. Did I not make them promise? A sea of profanities play in my head. Throw the car in drive, and head down the road to the McDonald's in the other direction. Drag both kids in, poop, wash hands, back in the car. Soccer Take-2. As we re-arrive we notice a crowd at the entrance to the field. The fields are locked. Awesome. Coaches do some impromptu drills with the kids in the small patch of grass outside the fence. Dad arrives. We all head home. PopTarts for dinner at 8:30 while sitting on the bathroom counter. Wash up, brush teeth, head to bed. 'MOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!' Great, what now? "There's poop on me! Lola pooped in my bed!!'
Mommy is going to take a pill....
Tuesday morning. It started out normal. You know, wake up late and make the whole family suffer thru my yelling and rushing because I couldn't wake up on time. The threats. 'If you don't get out of bed by the time I count to three, no tablet for you tonight' or 'I swear to God I will leave you home and you can hitchhike to school'. Stop judging. You say the same things too. We make it downstairs just in time for the soccer meltdown. The older one has soccer at 6pm while the younger one doesn't have it until Thursday. Try explaining that to an already over emotional 3 year old. The kicking and screaming begins. I couldn't even tell you why. Does it matter at this point? Finally under moderate control, strapped in the car and off to daycare.
I was already late for work before I opened my eyes. No need to ponder on this. This is a standard in my world. I literally have to plan weeks in advance if I have to be at work on time on a particular day. It's not pretty and lucky for me doesn't occur often. Where was I? Oh right, at work, late. I come into demanding people and tons of emails. I think 'why can't I be a stay at home mom'...then I realize, the kids would be with me. I survive the morning then it's off to the grocery store for my lunch break to pick up the stuff I don't have time to get after work. And then it happens...moms, you know the feeling when your phone rings and you see the daycare or school's number flash across the screen. And it's always at the worst time. You're in a meeting. Your're in stirrups at the gynocologist. You're wrapped in foils getting your hair highlighted on the one day in 3 months that you could squeeze it in. And you know what you have to do. Drop everything. Ctrl-Alt-Delete your life and go. This time it's the claim that my son has ring worm. I know he doesn't. I tell them this. Doesn't matter, we need a doctor's note. Back to work, attend short meeting, out the door for daycare. Which by the way is back near my house. Where is the doctor? Back where I work. Are you dizzy yet? Get the kid and manage my way in the door as the doctors office is minutes from closing. Examination. Confirmed, just a rash, like I said. Don't forget the note or he can't go back to school.
Back in the car and off to the house to pick of soccer ball we left home. Leave kid in car. Back in car and off to get older kid for his soccer. Both kids strapped in and down the road to McDonald's. I literally made my kids promise that they wouldn't have to poop since there are no bathrooms at soccer. That's right, no bathrooms. Is this county kidding? Hit up the drive thru, start eating, get to soccer with 20 minutes to spare. I can finally breath. I put a movie on and the kids happily eat their cheeseburgers. Did I mention this is the first practice of the season?
5:55pm, soccer starts in 5 minutes. One kid has to poop. Did I not make them promise? A sea of profanities play in my head. Throw the car in drive, and head down the road to the McDonald's in the other direction. Drag both kids in, poop, wash hands, back in the car. Soccer Take-2. As we re-arrive we notice a crowd at the entrance to the field. The fields are locked. Awesome. Coaches do some impromptu drills with the kids in the small patch of grass outside the fence. Dad arrives. We all head home. PopTarts for dinner at 8:30 while sitting on the bathroom counter. Wash up, brush teeth, head to bed. 'MOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!' Great, what now? "There's poop on me! Lola pooped in my bed!!'
Mommy is going to take a pill....
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