You Had A Bad Day

You know how you have those days when you don't feel like being at your job?  Those days when even though, you really love what you do, that particular day you hate it.  The kind of day where you wonder what made you choose to do this stupid job.  Then you try and think if there is anyway to change your career path.  I had one of those days on Monday.  Only, when your job  is being a mom, changing you career path is not really a possibility.


I came back from Vegas on Sunday night exhausted.  This is to be expected when you come back from Las Vegas.  Not just because you drink and eat too much and sleep too little.  No, for some reason Las Vegas has this energy sucking source located in every casino.  Perhaps they steal the energy of tourists to dole out to any underworld creatures that live in that city.  Who knows?  All I do know is that whenever I leave that place, I feel like I'm going to pass out on the floor of the airport while  boarding my plane.  I thought that getting a good night's sleep on Sunday night would cure me, but turns out this time it took me an extra day to get back to normal.  This made Monday even less enjoyable a day than usual.


Orignally, I thought Monday wouldn't be too bad, because the girls all had the day off of school.  That meant no running around on my part.  However, I forgot that it meant being holed up all day with them in the house.  Depending on their moods, this can work out great or be a total disaster.  I'll give you a guess which one I got on Monday.  Part of the reason for this was because they were, in Andy's words, "extremely good" all weekend long.  I mistakenly thought this meant they would be good for me on Monday.  Silly, silly Mommy!  Don't you know better by now that they wait for YOU to let out all their crazy on??


And that is just what they did.  They fought, they didn't listen to me, I got eye rolls and back talk, ALL DAY LONG.  Now, it didn't help that I was tired, cranky and slightly PMSy myself.  Not to mention the fact that I came back to a house that was "clean" in husband terms.  You all know what I'm talking about.  Even you husbands.  This meant the dishwasher had been run and unloaded once, and the toys were mostly cleaned up.  However, those piles of laundry that needed putting away, the ones that I busted my ass to get washed before I left?  Yeeeeaaaaahhhh.... those were still there waiting for me upon my return.  So I had some work to do.  Fun times.


By Monday night I was ready to drive myself back to Burbank Airport and take whatever the soonest flight was leaving to wherever it was leaving to.  Hopefully to Australia.  It's VERY far and I've always wanted to go.   I just did not feel like being mom anymore right then.    The girls could have cared less at what I was asking them to do, or that I was getting mad about them not doing it.  They just continued their decent into acting as terribly as they possibly could.  At one point I was talking to my sister, Megan, and broke down on the phone with her.  Why on earth did I want to do this?  What was I thinking having THREE?  There is no way out!!  She totally empathized and reminded me that she gave me a similar phone call not three weeks before.  Still, I was losing it a bit.  I did feel better after ranting and crying for a minute, but 8pm could not come soon enough.


I finally got them in the bath that night, after a dinner of leftovers, which nobody was happy about.  Well, of course not, they'd been eating out for two days straight and now here was mommy to, once again, ruin all the fun.  I left them in the tub for a while, because I just couldn't deal, and they were actually having fun and not killing each other for the first time all day.  Who cares if they looked like prunes when I went to get them out?


I went to wash them  and  was met with protests saying they wanted more time to play.  I denied them and they continued to whine and not follow my instructions.  I started to lose it with them.  Then I finally looked at Sonya and said, 


"I don't get it! Daddy said you were good for him ALL weekend, then I get home and you act like this all day!  What is it that Mommy is doing wrong?  What is it that Daddy does that makes you guys act better?  Please tell me and I'LL DO IT!"


Sonya stared at me with a pained expression and said, "Well, it is something, but I don't want to tell you."


"What do you mean you don't want to tell me?  Why?" I asked, now curious for this magic solution.


"Well, I don't want to make you sad if I tell you," she said to me.


"It's fine Sonya, I don't mind," I told her.  "Please," I begged, "just tell me what it is.  I won't get sad."


"Ooookkaayy," she said, not quite convinced.  She paused for a minute.


"It's okay, just tell me," I encouraged her.


"Well," she said worried.  "It's just that, well, we get BORED of you."


Huh.  I thought about what she meant for a minute and then she tried to clear it up for me.


"Because you know,  you are here all the time, and we don't get to see Daddy that much, so..."


"I understand," I told her.  "So when you see Daddy you want to behave as good as you can, since he's not around much, but since I'm here all the time, you feel like you can act like you want."


"Yeah!" She told me, happy that I understood what she was saying.


"Actually, Sonya," I said.  "That makes me feel better and not sad at all."


And it did.  They weren't behaving badly all day because they hated me or wanted to be mean to me.  They were behaving badly because they had held in the bad behavior they might have displayed all weekend long.  They didn't want to disappoint their Daddy who they didn't get to hang out with often.  Another day or two and they might have unleashed on him, but I came home at just the right time apparently.  


So on the one hand it blows that all the crap rolls downhill to me.  The frustration that they hold in for hours, a day or even a weekend.  However, on the other hand, I am the one they are most comfortable with to let it all go.  This also makes me the first person they want when they are happy about something or have good news to share.  And the first person they want when they are sad, hurt, or upset.   I am the one that is first for all the good, I am the first for all the bad.  Some days it sucks.  But mostly, it's the reason I took this job.  Even though I do need a break from it sometimes, I would never change this particular career path.  It really is the most important job anyone can do, and most days I love it.  Monday was just a bad day, and some days are like that.  For everyone.  Even in Australia.