Well. That will teach me to not write about being a working mom at the very end of a long Friday, when I’m tired & like every other American, watching the clock tick down until 5pm! Obviously, I had no clue that a simple schedule could cause such an uproar, but such is life on the interwebs.
and p.s. before we begin, for those that accuse me of not spending time with him – my child is napping. You know, because babies do that. In theory.
I have to be honest – I went back & re-read it. Again. & again. & I must have intended it in a different tone than the one that came across, because I still do not see the “OH MY GOD! ORDER ME A CROSS NOW BECAUSE NOBODY HAS IT WORSE! CROWN OF THORNS, SPONGE OF VINEGAR FOR ONE!” I wrote about the sensory overload that comes with being a mother (really? you’ve never felt that?). Or sometimes, just plain human. You know those times when your coworker is filing her nails for the umpteenth time that week & you have visions of whacking her over the head with the emery board? Or when you realize that the kid in the cubicle next to you types way too fast & hard – no really, dude. The keyboard doesn’t need that abuse! Or your kid is crying for Barney for the 18th time that day? Or your cleaning up the seventh spilled juice cup that week & if you have to hear the hum of your carpet steamer one more time, you might commit yourself. That kind of sensory overload that comes at the end of a long week. & you know those weeks that you have where you just want to crawl into sweatpants with a plate of cookies? It was one of those weeks.
(like someone tweeted, it was probably a baaaad decision to lose weight & go back to work simultaneously since comfort food & massive glasses of wine are now out of the equation!)
There are days I feel like SuperMom. Where I sit back, smile, & say “Awesome.” My kid is smiling, my husband still adores me, I’m losing weight, earning a paycheck, & my house hasn’t burned to the ground yet. & I feel like putting on a princess tutu & dancing around saying, “TAKE THAT, DOUBT! SUCK ON IT, PRESSURE!” I should make it a point to write about that, & I will. & maybe I’ll write it in pink! Because for all of those bad moments, there are some really, really amazing benefits to working. & if I can do it, you can do it. The sad part is, those feelings usually come after an extremely productive day, also creating an evening where I’m flopping into bed at 9pm without even finishing dinner.
I strongly agree with everyone that told me to simmer the hell down. I’m working on it. & keep reminding me, mmkay? You know those really obnoxious Type-A competitive perfectionist types that drive everyone crazy? Yeah. I’m one of them. So despite what it may sound like, it’s not that I see myself as a martyr. I simply see my life as a constant work-in-progress that could be better. I just need to realize that it can’t happen in two weeks. Or even 3 months. But along with some of the comments & emails I’ve received, I’m glad I posted it – I did not sugar-coat our life. The few weeks back to work are hell. It’s a new schedule, new priorities, new people, new challenges.
However, there are several upsides. Which include a house that really doesn’t get that dirty during the week. So Nate & I found this morning that we could clean it in an hour (the laundry, on the other hand! yipes!) I am, however, checking into a maid service for even that little bit. Folks have been telling me that for weeks & I’ve decided to stop being a stubborn ass. Thankfully, working outside the home has split the childcare & household duties even more fairly between Nate & I, so I am thankful for that. & I am working on a Guest Blogging Week to give me a wee break, which includes some REALLY awesome writers, thoughts, & hilarious tales. Reminder to self: Write about sex. & the high school cheerleading reunion. Not together, of course.
In closing, something that needs to be said:
I have always left comments open without censorship. I do not censor myself on here – as a returned favor for your patience through my rantings, I do not censor your comments.
Even when they suck. 95% of the time, comments are uplifting, insightful, & full of advice or encouragement. Sometimes they are even a much-needed swift kick in the ass. But occasionally (as you have witnessed), people can be cruel. Really. So some of those comments will be deleted. Not because they are insulting to me, but because they insult other women, races, & my child. I can stand for criticism. I do not abide by cruelty & ignorance. I try not to reply to all comments, simply because I could potentially spend my entire blogging existence responding & defending. I am pretty good at letting things roll off my shoulders, which includes laughing at what strangers on the internet say to me. You simply cannot be an open, honest blogger & allow those comments to get to you. If you do, then the words typed become censored. & censoring myself has never been a strong point (admittedly along with handling change & saying “no” to a bag of Doritos).
Sometimes, it is hard to chuckle when someone makes it their point to tell you that you’re a horrible, unworthy mother. You know, when I already have those feelings bouncing around with “I CAN DO THIS!” and “HELL NO, I CAN’T.” My child screamed at me for weeks. I cried about it & complained about it. OH MY GOD, I just wanted some respite. Any kind of respite. Work! & then I realized what that respite involved – being away from my son. OH MY GOD, I don’t want that. Gotta love life’s crossroads mixed with postpartum hormones, no? & right when we found the fix to where I could truly soak him in, I returned to work, waving goodbye to that sweet blonde head for 9 hours a day, 5 days per week.
But as always, I’m a work in progress. & so is life.
