i am the asshole
I'm having one of those days when I want to tell everybody to fuck off.
Yes, that includes Chicken.
Yes, that includes Buster. Although to Buster I'd probably couch it a little more like, "sweet boy, mama really would like it if you'd just fuck off for a little while, my angel."
That includes my grandparents, neighbors, mailman, former cats, husband, sisters, friends, that guy from Constant Contact who keeps scheduling "coaching calls" without my consent and then emailing me after I ignore his coaching call to tell me that it's okay that I "couldn't make it." Yes, you, sir. Fuck. Off.
That includes Dora. That includes Big Bird and his ABC song.
That includes the barista at the drive-thru Starbucks. This is how I wish our conversation had gone:
Barista: Here's that grande Americano!
Me: Fuck off.
Barista: Did you want a receipt?
Me: Um... fuck off.
Barista: Okay, have a great day!
Me: Fuck off!
Obviously, my mama raised me right enough that our conversation did not go like that. I didn't tell anybody to fuck off today. Because nobody did anything worth f-bombing today. The barista was pleasant and not too sunshine-y and was only minding his business when I blasted through with my foul mood and surly "no thank you's."
My children are just being children. My friends are wonderful friends. My husband is feeling his way through too many consecutive nights with too little sleep, just like I am, and we're doing our best to be compassionate and patient and tough enough not to take little things personally.
My frustration is this wildly malfunctioning sprinkler going off in all the wrong directions. Knowing that does not fix the sprinkler.
What can I do?
1. Take a shower while neither of my children naps successfully, safe in the knowledge that they are at least caged and/or belted in place and unable to harm themselves or others, and nobody ever died from crying.
2. Write a blog post about it.
3. Forgive Chicken for being two and do not hold a grudge against him for another afternoon of no napping and whining about his teeth having a boo-boo. He's doing the best he can. Give him a hug and a kiss.
4. Forgive Buster for being 4 months old and unable to fall asleep without being straightjacketed. He's a baby. He knows not what he does.
5. Forgive everyone else for simply being present in my life on a day that I'm a belligerent dick. They didn't do anything to deserve my ire. But I'm going to forgive them anyway.
6. Forgive myself for being a belligerent dick. There's a great piece of wisdom I think about all the time: "If you meet 5 assholes in one day, you're the asshole." So today I am the asshole.
Sorry.
And fuck off.
Yes, that includes Chicken.
Yes, that includes Buster. Although to Buster I'd probably couch it a little more like, "sweet boy, mama really would like it if you'd just fuck off for a little while, my angel."
That includes my grandparents, neighbors, mailman, former cats, husband, sisters, friends, that guy from Constant Contact who keeps scheduling "coaching calls" without my consent and then emailing me after I ignore his coaching call to tell me that it's okay that I "couldn't make it." Yes, you, sir. Fuck. Off.
That includes Dora. That includes Big Bird and his ABC song.
That includes the barista at the drive-thru Starbucks. This is how I wish our conversation had gone:
Barista: Here's that grande Americano!
Me: Fuck off.
Barista: Did you want a receipt?
Me: Um... fuck off.
Barista: Okay, have a great day!
Me: Fuck off!
Obviously, my mama raised me right enough that our conversation did not go like that. I didn't tell anybody to fuck off today. Because nobody did anything worth f-bombing today. The barista was pleasant and not too sunshine-y and was only minding his business when I blasted through with my foul mood and surly "no thank you's."
My children are just being children. My friends are wonderful friends. My husband is feeling his way through too many consecutive nights with too little sleep, just like I am, and we're doing our best to be compassionate and patient and tough enough not to take little things personally.
My frustration is this wildly malfunctioning sprinkler going off in all the wrong directions. Knowing that does not fix the sprinkler.
What can I do?
1. Take a shower while neither of my children naps successfully, safe in the knowledge that they are at least caged and/or belted in place and unable to harm themselves or others, and nobody ever died from crying.
2. Write a blog post about it.
3. Forgive Chicken for being two and do not hold a grudge against him for another afternoon of no napping and whining about his teeth having a boo-boo. He's doing the best he can. Give him a hug and a kiss.
4. Forgive Buster for being 4 months old and unable to fall asleep without being straightjacketed. He's a baby. He knows not what he does.
5. Forgive everyone else for simply being present in my life on a day that I'm a belligerent dick. They didn't do anything to deserve my ire. But I'm going to forgive them anyway.
6. Forgive myself for being a belligerent dick. There's a great piece of wisdom I think about all the time: "If you meet 5 assholes in one day, you're the asshole." So today I am the asshole.
Sorry.
And fuck off.