I swear I'm not trying to be the world's biggest whiner, but I have had one of those days. You know the kind. I woke up late, the baby woke up even later. I ran through the morning feeling like I was forgetting something, couldn't dress myself, choked down some coffee (yes, back on the caffeine), thank heavens Nate dressed C and somehow scooted us out the door. But I had to write a check for the day care lady at the first traffic light. That made me remember she was totally out of Clementine's diapers, so I pulled over at the nearest Rite-Aid where I realized Clementine hadn't had breakfast (she was going nuts at the candy bars), so I threw in a box of Cheerios and spent the remainder of our drive tossing them back to her and damning my stick shift for making morning multi-tasking so hard.
I threw her in the door at day care because I was so late for work and then realized I didn't have my camera for morning convocation. Damn. Luckily, Karen had left hers at my house and it was rolling around in my backseat for a week waiting to be returned. So I grabbed it, made it to the ceremony, couldn't get anything to work right and eventually made it to my office to find 445 emails in my account--so much for even using the photos to write a story. Granted 100 of the emails were from a few weeks ago, 150 from last week, so it's not like they cropped up over night, but I had to get serious about answering them. But then there is the generic email I have to answer, another account with 60 emails. Writing? Photos? My actual job? Who has time? I'm tech support now.
I spent the rest of the day frantic, a to-do list spiraling out of control and my perspective waning. How would I ever get it all done? I hate when it gets like that, my fingers madly typing, my whole self overwhelmed. My friends pop by my office and I can't even look at them except with these crazy eyes that scream "Stay away! I'm MAD! A lunatic!" And then I get so wound up I think I have to quit my job immediately because nothing is worth this kind of stress, not to mention being the last mommy to day care to get her love, with whom I have spent a whole 20 minutes of time today. This is where things get dangerous and I think of all the things I haven't done with my life (a book, my writing, more travel) and will now never do. Not because of my kid but because of my job. And then, there you go--I'm whining again. I feel trapped, overwhelmed. These are not new feelings--they are at the heart of my struggle as a working mom.
But then I go get darling C. from day care, and she runs over to give me a hug and a goofy grin. Today she has learned where her tongue is, so when you ask her she opens her mouth and is so damn proud of herself she can't keep from laughing. The whole day melts away, and I'm sane and happy and myself. OK, not entirely true. I took a brief detour into the garage when I got home to sit by myself in Nate's convertible and *gasp* smoke a cigarette. I don't smoke (and neither does Nate anymore, yet there were emergency cigs tucked away in a glove compartment), but it seemed like the right thing to do. Very dramatic. I was very proud of myself.
But THEN things were better and I put on my sweat pants and took care of my family and was just so grateful and happy to be home. So today sucked more than most, but because of it the evening was better than most. I have to call it even, huh?
My loverly sister posted some fabulous pictures of her brood today. Don't you want o go take a peek?
3 comments:
Ohhh it's so nice to read your writing. I'm too much of a wimp to post even a direct thought about my work place. Needless to say, you have (again) captured some of the exact emotions that I go through on a cyclical basis. Yesterday was my shitty (I'm quitting) day at work. Had to stay at home today with my girl becasue my mom-in-law couldn't watch her. We had the best day ever- she discovered that rain is also "wah-wah" just like the shower!! When forced to choose between settling disputes between my colleagues who are 10 years older than me and listening to my angel cool in the carseat as we head to the mall- guess which one I choose. Oops- I wrote about work.
You are officially not allowed to come to Chicago again unless you call me. Ok- I'm really not that pushy (I'm actually a wimp- remember? I just said it above) but I would really like to meet you some day. If you need a comrade- I'll be there for you.
How did the cig taste, by the way?
I think I may actually be TRYING to get fired sometimes (not really, but I am always aware that several people at work read this). In a way tt would be such a relief to have it thrust upon as opposed to something It's not just that I want to stay home with Clementine--I do, of course, but I also like some of what day care has done for her ability and desire to be with other kids--it's also that I have a whole writing thing I should be pursuing. Sometimes I wake up and wonder how I've gotten here, so far away from poetry and books and thinking and my own words.
I would love to meet up with you in Chicago. I'll send you details about my next trip.
And the cigarette wasn't nearly as delicious as, say, chocolate cake, but it sure was worth it. Once. Not more than that.
Hey I'm commenting on behalf of Isabel from Sisterhood Six. She would love to include this in the monthly carnival, but doesn't have a blogger log-in. If she can, please email her at carnival@sisterhoodsix.com
Thanks,
Leah
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