Tag Archives: Working Mom

My Triggers, the Remix

I am exhausted. I’m in the second week of a three-week travel-palooza. I feel like I didn’t really get much time to come off of an intense vacation—seriously I LOVED it, but it was physically a lot and I have hardly had a chance to really process the fact that I checked off one of my biggest bucket list items. I’m still overwhelmed by the trip.

But there’s no time to really do all of that because I’m too busy being overwhelmed by work and home life.

That means I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m prone to whipping myself into a crazy frenzy over ridiculous stuff. My communication skills are presenting a bit dull, and sometimes I can’t moderate my emotional responses.

So EVERYTHING is triggering me. EVERYTHING! It’s kind of like that time about a year ago.

Yesterday, while grocery shopping and mentally making a list of the chores I would ask Hope to do during the day, I managed to work myself into a lather over some dumb ish she did while I was away the previous few days. I managed to revisit my thoughts on teen laziness and narcissism, the fact that she seemed to really take advantage of things while I was gone.

I totally forgot about how well she communicated with me while I was gone. I totally forgot how stressed Hope gets when I am gone. I didn’t think about how much more anxious she is about school when I’m on business travel. I didn’t think about Hope actually at all.

I thought about how RIGHT I was!

I mean seriously, do I have to do everything?

Yes, yes I do.

And when I brought the groceries home, I immediately called Hope and demanded that she get pen and paper and write down the list of to do items I dictated. Before I knew it, I was making some unrelated point about school, future responsibilities and veiled threats about spending money for the upcoming band trip.

I lost my ish.

And I distinctly remember the moment that Hope went to her “this ish is cray” place. I lost eye contact as I practically yelled that I wasn’t mad—though everything about me indicated that I was totally pissed. Her face went blank and she stopped jotting down the things dictated from my ridiculous list.

My pinnacle of crazy? Taking the laptop until all chores were done, preferably by 4pm.

Now, first, if my daughter’s life relied on a speedy response to anything she would not be here in the land of the living. Secondly, the list was a failure set up. And finally? I was a complete nut-job, mom-beeotch; especially when my daughter insisted that there were no dishes to wash after I had washed two sink fulls and there were STILL dishes to do.

Being human is so overrated. I’m tired and stressed and I actually don’t want to be so easily triggered or wound up, but yeah, here we are.

I apologized to Hope. I was bad, and I regretted it. Then I let her be, and I got back to the tasks that would hopefully help me get on top of my workload. I know that I’ll have a breakthru this weekend; I just need it to hurry up and get here.

I also need to lay in my bed for a few days, but alas, that won’t be happening for a while.

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A Day in the Life-Travel Edition

This post should be called, Why ABM can’t get several half written posts finished and why her pre-production work for Add Water and Stir lays waste in her email box or even Single AdoptiveBlackMom Chronicles But, um, those are kinda long and we’ve already established that things are crazy.  I’m on a layover for a 4.5 day work trip and things today were best characterized as mayhem.

5:30am           Get up to do hair.

6:30am           Wake Hope up because she keeps psyching me out by uninstalling the obnoxious alarm app on her phone and turns down the alarm clock alarm so she can claim it doesn’t work.

6:45am           Put on workout clothes and walk Yappy.

7:00am           Hope announces that she has been invited to a recent HS grads house to watch movies and inquires if she can go, but has no details—like not a one and drops an attitude because I am like—you now want to crash at a friends when I have to pay a nanny to stay here with you and Yappy tonight?????

7:01am           ABM loses ish for the first time of the day.

7:02am           Hope slams a door in ABM’s house.

7:02.5am        “Don’t slam doors in my house!” While slamming the door to my bedroom.

7:03am           Takes a deep breath. Begins to change bedding, organizes all ensembles to be packed in stacks on freshly made bed.

7:30am           Starts getting breakfast together and continues organizing, mumbles random list of things to be done.

8:00am           Snaps at Hope because she is dragging arse and we need to get out of the house for the day.

8:30am           Drops Hope off and heads to Starbucks for café-crack and to the bank for nanny money.

9:00am           Starts tidying the house, laundry and getting the nanny stuff together for the weekend. Begins to work out with today’s nanny that Hope wants to hang out with a friend, but nah she can’t stay and yeah, I still have to pay. At least she can take Yappy to the park; he’ll be delighted.

10:00am         Starts getting anxious because things are behind schedule and Hope has to be picked up at noon. My flight leaves at 2:30pm so I need to transition to shower, closing the suit case, etc.

10:05AM        Work underling keeps calling and asking me to read drafts of things his UPenn-masters-degree-having-arse should be able to send without me laying eyes on the documents; I mean, why is he here if he can’t do that with confidence???

10:08am         ABM’s second meltdown of the day.

10:15am         There’s a bathroom leak and not really time for another meltdown.

10:30am         Sits down to respond to a couple of emails and check in for her flight.

10:35am         Wait, does that say my flight LANDS  in TX at 2:30pm?

10:35.30am    Realizes that flight actually departs in less than 2 hours.

10:35.45am    ABM’s quickest meltdown in the history of meltdowns. Strings together impressive array of foul language in a short period of time.

10:36am         Things are blurry.

11:11am         Showered, stuff shoved into suitcase and briefcase and purse, makeup splashed on, Yappy kissed and tricked into the bathroom, calls made from shower to Hope, nannies and Grammy, I Mario Andretti into a parking space at the airport.

DO NOT ASK ABOUT SPEEDS, EYELINER ACCURACY OR THE VERY QUESTIONABLE DECISION TO PUT BLUSH ON.

11:40am         Having flirted shamelessly with anyone who can help me I check in, upgrade and get beyond security, and with chicken shwarma to go in hand, I finally take a breath.

And it’s only 3:30pm.

Dear Holy Homeboy help me.


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