Overreaction. That's what it was. But I think I have plenty of good reasons to overreact today.
I woke up at 6am to Connor crying about wanting to watch Blue's Clues and drink some milk. It was sunny outside already, so I guess I have to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he was confused and doesn't realize how friggin early 6am is. I need to make better curtains for his room so that this doesn't keep happening. He made me shower with the door open, demanded his milk immediately when I got out, freaked out a billion times when I helped him put his pants on because they were "uncomfortableing him", and somehow we managed to make it out the door. I forgot the following: my lunch, my backpack, my waterbottle, and Connor's trike. Apparently it's the "Trike-A-Thon" at school today.
We got through it all. Connor smiled when I left preschool, so I don't think he totally sensed my increasing frustration toward this poopy Tuesday. He ate breakfast well and was dressed comfortably, and I was taking him to a safe place to play and have fun with friends (and learn a little too!), so I felt OK as I walked back to the car.
Then I called Craig. He told me some story about how he's getting out so late today because his patient had a bout of bradycardia at shift change, and they were going to have to pace her, and blah blah blah. I actually think that's how his conversation ended. He's tired though, since he did just work a 12 hour shift, so I also gave him the benefit of the doubt. I mentioned that it's the Trike-A-Thon at school today, and we forgot Connor's bike. Then he said "We're such bad parents." And I overreacted. I mean, c'mon! I am the one to drop him off at school 95% of the time, and then I also have to go to work right after (if Craig's dropping Connor off, he then gets to go to Lowes or somewhere fun and do house stuff... not I!) So even if he's joking by making a comment about parenting skills, it's a shitty thing to do to a pregnant woman with about a zillion other things to worry about. I do not need to second guess whether or not I'm a good parent, right in the middle of going to school (and taking very difficult classes), working full time, and entering my second trimester of pregnancy. Shitty shitty shitty.
How about this? You're a bad husband! Other women on our block all have stay at home lives, where they can teach their children and pay attention to their children without having the extra worry of paying the gas bill or buying groceries. I've got way too much responsibility to be also worrying about whether I'm going to scar my child for life by forgetting his Trike. At least I remembered his lunch. Here I am, pregnant, and without food. Without water. I guess there's a cafe downstairs, and cups in the kitchen, but I'm trying to make a point. I guess I'm not succeeding.
And then Linda asked me to write a WHOLE GOD DAMN FUCKING JOB for her to find anyone in the Pactiv database with a $123.74 adjustment to claims, because one of her retards forgot to enter that shit on the stupid spreadsheet that they're working on. I fucking refuse.
Sorry. Tuesday.
1 comment:
I finally got around to reading your blog in a million years, and it seems like you have become incredibly fecund (okay, the truth is that I just like being able to say "fecund" in a sentence).
Anyway, I think you guys are awesome parents and I am pretty much in awe of how well you're able to combine two professional careers with a family. I often come home and tell Amanda little tidbits about your family life, usually closing with the statement: "see, we can *too* have a kid and be professional wieners at the same time".
Also, it's incredible that Connor knows the word "uncomfortable" and is able to use it in a sentence, albeit in a somewhat unique manner. What a cool kid you've raised, and smart, smart, smart.
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