I want one day.
ONE day in which I don’t need tricks and techniques and reverse psychology to get my job done. I want ONE day in which I’m in charge of only my own actions, in which I get stuff done without taking six times as long as should be necessary because it will be just me and the voices in my head.
I want ONE day in which things are easy; where I ask and things happen. Calmly. Happily. Without whining or crying or throwing or hitting or questions or bullshit. I want ONE g-dd-mned day where I don’t have to explain safety and society and polite and dangerous and inappropriate and unacceptable. ONE day where I don’t need to consciously reinforce all the good behavior of someone else in a DESPERATE attempt to stave off the batshit insane bad behavior that I can’t even label “bad” because it’s not the way I want to do things.
I want ONE f—ing day where I can just operate on my own list, focusing when I want to, spacing when I want to, and taking freaking breaths when I want to. One day with clear goals and outcomes, milestones and markers, measurement and metrics, respect and a f—ing paycheck.
I want ONE day where nobody tells me about their bowels or their bladder or makes me help them evacuate either. I want ONE day where I actually feel like I’m doing a good job. Where I don’t need a g-dd-mned book to give me suggestions for making things smoother and can operate without needing freaking experts telling me how to get through the day without homicide and suicide and infanticide and freaking increasing the shockingly low child abuse rate.
ONE day where I don’t have to explain or cajole or bargain or compromise or invent games to convince everyone but myself that life is fun and washing hands is wonderful and eating is jolly. One day where the growth, development, life, or death of people around me is really none of my concern and certainly not my responsibility. I just want to do my day.
I want ONE day. ONE. One. 1. Just one.
Or I want a 60 hour a week job so someone else does this b-llsh-t for me.
Never mind. I want an 80 hour a week job. The weeks I handled a 120 hour work week, all billable hours, I barely had enough energy to shower. I want that again. Someone else handle this. Someone who’s good at it. For just one day. Or maybe forever.
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NaptimeWriting 
You write what I think. I’m sorry you’re miserable, but I really appreciate your honesty. I knew I couldn’t be the only one!
when you get the one day, let me know how you finagled it cuz i want one, too. and the day after that, i want another. i’ve been having full-time fantasies, as well, ms. nappy. but even if you have a full time job, you still have to take care of ’em when they’re sick, which is apparently all the time once they start preschool. hate hate hate hate. one of mine bit the other’s TEMPLE this morning. again… who came up with the great idea to not spank children anymore?
As C- mommy, I can relate. And I never felt it more than when I was pregnant, and my tonic for all ills–wine–was off limits. Suckage.
One day. Seems like so little to ask, and yet so impossible.
Geez, I want one too, only I’m in the office all day. I deal with toddlers, too, because America’s cubicles are filled with tantrum-throwing, self-centered, impertinent two-year-olds. At least you can scream at your kid. I have to filter myself with “administrators.” Sorry, it’s a bitch on both sides, I suppose.
By the way, thanks for stopping by Mayberry Magpie. Glad to have discovered you. (PS: did you know the opposite of naptime writing is lunch hour writing? Or stealth meeting writing? A mom’s gotta find time for what’s important.)
Would it help if I bitched about the crappier aspects of being a pediatrician? Probably not. But it’s an open-ended offer.
Meanwhile, I hope you get maybe an hour? Half a day? Fifteen good minutes? Whatever you need to remain sane. I’ve come to like you sane, and I’d hate to have to find a new favorite parenting/lit blog.
Or are you insane, and I didn’t notice? Whichever way you are, stay that way. I enjoy it.
“shockingly low child abuse rate”….LOLOLOLOLOLOL…yeah, all Mommy’s do the heavy lifting…most of the time. That’s why they say “hi Mom” when the camera catches them. So I don’t complain. But when they get older and start pushing the teen years…? It’s not that it gets worse (because it only gets different) but you have the sudden, nauseating realization that it will NEVER end. You will never ever stop worrying. I imagine them living somewhere in their own homes, with jobs and lives and I also clearly see myself laying there, finally at peace, waiting for the phone to ring.
@kq I always feel a bit better if people can either feel better or amused. relieved to be of service.
@J man, that shark is giving you no peace, woman. i can’t imagine. Sick then bitten. Ground her. Oh, wait…
You know I’d give you two days if I juts got one…
@Kitch C minus my ass. You’re A plus in my book. I told you we could both get a day if we set up a cage match between our little soulmates.
@Magpie, you say cherries and chocolate, I come running. I agree most co-workers are puerile. But you can lock the bathroom door and nobody loses an eye.
@Dan you are always welcome to bitch. Please. Tell us how hard it is that most parents make you the bad guy. Then go home in a quiet car with your own thoughts.
not sure if I’m sane or insane, but I’m laughing my nether regions off that you just like the stasis of my mental teeter-totter.
@john tell me I’m wrong. I know the child abuse rate is unacceptably high and not at all funny. But it really is shocking how well we’ve convinced people it’s not okay to hurt little dudes, because, man, the fantasies I have…
I think Dads have some stuff way tougher and I can’t imagine the pressures. But if I had the kind of creative time it took to put myself in other people’s shoes I’d have perspective and balance and Dan would not find me funny. So.
Oh, man, people. it’s been one shitty shitty week. But i just found out there’s a holiday Monday. And I burst into tears. Here’s to three days of at least help if not sanity.
I truly found it funny – just in case you thought I was taking you to task for your comment.
Because I’m such a bad fix-it man one can still see the hole I kicked in the sheet rock in the basement when my infant daughter would stop screaming in my face. I think it’s brave to give voice to the feelings, they’re there; oh so there.
No, I think maybe now is not the right time for professional grousing. Perhaps when you’re week is less crappy.
On that note, um… I hope your next week is less crappy.
ARGH!!! YOUR week is less crappy.
I want ONE day where I do not have to explain 73 times why we MUST cover our mouths during coughing, sneezing or whatever weird things my kids do with their mouths and noses.
Just one day.
Ok, I’ll admit it. I want a WEEK! Yes, a whole week! Selfish me. But that’s my dream and I’m sticking to it.
In the meantime, I hope that Spouse recognizes that you desperately need one day and says Honey, Please Go Have A Day. And that your day is glorious and yak-free and rejuvenating. *Hugs*
I’m sorry it’s been a miserable week. And I hope you can get your one day. And that on that one day you can do all the things you want to do and none of the things you have to do. In the meantime, try to only do the minimum. (The bladder and bowel stuff?) You’ll all make it through. Hang in there!
@ Ink you know if I’m really honest I want a week every month. But that day I was so freaking on edge I wanted enough, and an hour wouldn’t cut it. When Spouse read the post he said, “you know Monday is a holiday?” and I burst into tears. Relief. Of course Peanut burst into tears this morning went I left for the library, saying he wants both Mommy and Daddy home for once. Ouch.
@Jen Thanks. I know you have it three times harder, so it’s hard to stay depressed too long. Believe me, I’m pretty much rooted to the minimum most of the time. ;-)
Thanks, all. I will try to be funny next week…
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