If you couldn't tell, I went back to work on Monday.
It's been concluded.
I'm not working mother material.
Not. Even. A. Little.
When I started writing this post on Tuesday night, I was a little delusional on the account of exhaustion. I was also being very over dramatic. It was whinny and extremely long. Like a page out of my diary. It was, in short, pathetic.
I'm just going to say that work is fine. It's great. I know the job. I go to work. Work. Then come home. Bonus points because as I type I get to listen to audio books on my iPod. This week I've heard; Notorious Nineteen, Let's Pretend This Never Happened, and Where'd You Go Bernadette. I get to talk to adults, friends I've made over the years, and low and behold I feel like a productive member of society. I think that has to do with the fact that I'm on the road by 6:30 in the morning.
So yes, work is fine.
Its the rest of my life that is a disaster.
The night before I had to return to work this little one started running a fever. Which led to a child care shuffle, Dad having to work a half day at home, and me losing sleep because I needed it to all run smoothly. It did, but I was way stressed.
Not only was Monday my first day back, it was also dance class day. And with packing my lunch and the kiddos' lunches the night before, I forgot to pack snacks for dance. Insert a trip to the snack bar. Chocolate goldfish, Cheetos, and Sprite. Yes, I was that mom. I was also the mom yelling at her kids not to eat goldfish off the floor and to stop spilling the sprite everywhere. Every once in a while you just have to be that mom, and own it. Even if you embarrass yourself.
Here is what my Tuesday looked like. With a still sick Mac, who napped until 7:40, almost 3 hours in all, and decided that 7:40 was a great time to wake up and party. I think I finally got her back to bed at 11. With a 5am wake up call programmed into my iPhone. I hear that this is the life of a working mom. I'm calling BS, and saying I want my previous job back.
This is me on fiveish hours of sleep. It was also taken because I was asked to do a review on the blog. Which I hate, because I think my readers hate it. So my apologies, but I really do like these fake glasses. They are fun to wear in selfies.
Here is a great thing about work. I get to dress it up a little. Which is sad when you consider leggings, a denim shirt, a colorful scarf, and boots that aren't uggs dressing up.
The laundry has piled higher than me (I'm 5'1). I've served chicken nuggets, peanut butter and jelly, and grilled cheese as dinner entrees this week. I'm forgoing a shower so I can watch Scandal tonight. And while I keep telling myself not to feel guilty about the St. Patty's day class treats that will go unmade, I can't help but feel a little tug on my heart. I've always had a thing about doing enough, or being enough. But really is it ever enough?
It is. It will be. It has to be.
Right?
One week down as a working mother. What does that even mean?
Have you ever met a mother that doesn't work?
