Woman on a verge of a nervous breakdown

The idea of starting a working mother’s blog has been brewing in my head for a while now.  Unfortunately, it is on the evening of the third day of my not seeing my daughter that I am finally bringing this idea to fruition.

Truth be told, I would still be at work right now, 9:09 pm, if it has not been for my husband having to abruptly hang up the phone to tend to some household emergency right after telling me that something was not right with our son.

My day was not a good day.  One of those where it seems that the whole world is against you, where any chosen communication style fails at conveying the ideas across and where the theme of the day is “it’s just not fair.”

So, when my husband told me that something was not right with our son, I bolted.  I did it in the most conspicuous way possible.  Loud paper shuffling to stuff my purse with whatever it is I felt I have to finish at home, jamming the laptop into a purse that is too obvious too small for it, throwing off the heels against the cubical walls when changing into my walking shoes and all the while cursing under my breath and sighing heavily.

I basically ran out, leaving my colleagues behind to their own interpretation of “it’s just not fair.” 

The ten minute walk to my station conveniently provided me with just enough time to send a “call me ASAP” text to my husband and to have a silent bawling session, where no tears where shed, but the airways were a tad too tight.

At home I learned that my son is OK, just had a bad day with a tantrum to polish it off.  An accident report from camp glared right back at me from the kitchen counter.  Two minutes of sunshine did make its way through -- my daughter, who was being put to sleep when I got home, came out to use the bathroom.   We hugged and didn’t let go for the whole two minutes.  After all, that’s how you greet a dear relative, not seen for a long time.

Yes, I am a working mother of two kids, on a verge of a nervous breakdown.  A little PMS could also be a contributing factor.   I’ll clear my mind, won’t engage in any self-destructing activities or rush to any decisions that I may regret later and then get back to you.


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