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“Here I sit all broken-hearted. Paid a dime and only farted….”
photo source hitupmyspot2.com
I have no idea why this line from a 1980’s book about bathroom graffiti popped into my head right now…but it did.
Maybe because I am having a Pity Party for One and am feeling like that poor soul who got screwed out of the price of a 1960’s phone call (and had nothing to show for it).
Before I share the not-so-glorious details of my Pity Pot Party, let me rewind to this morning.
It was your typical Get Everyone Up and Out The Door Morning. The 11 year-old fell back to sleep while sitting on the edge of his bed, the dog barfed in his kennel and the 9 year-old Drama Queen began whining about the color of the walls in her room (while bucking me on changing her socks-the magenta ones she’s been wearing for two days).
I (as with every morning) switch into Military Mom Mode and bark out orders, pack lunches, squash Whine-fests, mop dog barf and do a wide variety of multitasking-mom-type-things.
Meanwhile, my hubby (not a morning person) glumped around the house with an exceptionally Male PMS-y tude on. When I asked what was making him so crabby this morning he grumbled, “LIFE.”
rational calm patient responsive nutjob phsyco wife that I am, I began to comfort him chew his arse (in my head) as to what an ungrateful $$##@!! he was and “didn’t he realize how lucky he moth$$$%##@ing!! was??”
Now, several hours later I am sitting in my office, stressed, exhausted, crabby and in need of a nap. Or Chocolate. Or both. To say I am feeling sorry for myself is an understatement, but the reason I am feeling just as whiny as my room-hating-magenta-sock-wearing daughter is that I am busy in my business…“too busy.” I am tired and my arse hurts from sitting too long. I have reached that Point of No Return where I hate everyone (especially myself)… also known as “2:00.”
Photo source hitupmyspot2.com
Now before you launch into a tirade in my comment box shrieking in all CAPS, “ARE YOU EFFIN NUTS! I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING TO BE BUSY!!!!!” remember that, even Super Mom has a moment of weakness. Even Donald Trump has moments of self-doubt (I am assuming) and even effervescently-happy people like Kelly Ripa has moments where their diamond-and-tiara life looks pretty Box Under a Bridge-ish.
As I type this (which is therapeutic as h*ll) I realize that my self-pity-whine-fest is really no different as my hubby’s crabby outlook or my daughter’s need for two-day-old socks and pink walls in her room. It’s just a moment in time when we are all tired, we drop our happy faces and let our full-on PISSY side run wild, just for a little while.
Is my hubby ungrateful about is his life (really?) NO, of course not. He’s having a moment of Life Overwhelm with a side order of Why Can’t I Just Win The Effin Lottery?
Does our daughter truly need a therapist to help her work through her sock issues? NO, of course not. She just needs the comfort of something familiar…even if they do smell like rotten Doritos.
Do I loathe my job, work and clients. HECK NO. I am incredibly grateful for them. I too am just having a moment where I want to be somewhere else (like Costa Rica) sipping on something other than my Green Pear Smoothie (like a Margarita served to me by a hot guy with limited English) and yes…I too want to Win The Effin Lottery.
The good news is that all of this will pass. Not only will it pass, tomorrow is a new day and nothing is more healing than downtime and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow I will be able to hit ‘er again and love what I do (’cause I do), my husband will have moved past his PMS and my daughter will opt for Olaf from Frozen socks without nary as much as a squeak of protest.
That’s the cool thing about life. There’s always better days ahead 🙂
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