Do you ever have one of those days when the most fun you have is “disobeying” your map app by taking a shortcut out of your neighborhood?
So, there you smug, self-righteous piece of programming! Tell me where to turn, will you? Ha!
Once upon a time, I rebelled about things that made sense. Now, it seems I’m maxing out my abilities by telling off a GPS. I’ll tell you why. It’s not a mystery. I’m beat—like, I-could-drink-32-ounces-of-strong-coffee-and-then-fall-asleep-for-eighteen-hours kind of beat.
Several (or more) perky mom magazines or ezines or talk show hosts probably want to chime in at this point and say, “But you need to take care of YOU! Find more time for yourself.” And then I’d have to get medieval on them, just like I did with my GPS.
Really? Tell me one single thing I can quit doing and I will quit it!
I mean, I’m lucky. My job has flexible hours; I have enough time in the day to workout and shower almost every day. (And if I’ve run into you on a day when I’ve done the former but not the latter, I apologize.) Yeah, so my husband travels and my youngest isn’t in school fulltime yet and neither of my kids is exactly low maintenance—that’s not abnormal or anything.
At this point, I have streamlined everything—I’m not working the crazy hours I was last year, I’ve cut back on volunteering at school, I’m not taking on an extra volunteer projects. I haven’t even sewn or baked anything this year, really. No Hyper Henrietta Housewife here.
But these crazy people in my life keep insisting on having homework and sleepovers and activities and fundraisers and birthdays, and then they track stuff all over the floors, get clothes dirty, and want to be fed. The nerve!
And I’m starting to gather that I’m not the only one feeling this way. What the heck is going on? Listening to my kids’ cartoon in the background as I type, I wonder if some villainous Energy Monster stalks the country, sapping mothers of their desperately needed strength. Where, oh where is Super Mom when you need her?