CONFESSIONS OF A FACEBOOK FAILURE: Year 2
Day 9: I give up.
The complete confession is that my declaration of defeat is a daily occurrence.
So when I stormed into the husband’s office today, intent on interrupting any attempts at productivity (a brilliant behavioral tactic modeled after my little monsters…the masters of productivity prevention), waving my white flag…the melodrama didn’t possess quite the momentum I had hoped for.
Estrogen: “I’m done! I’m sending them all away.”
Testosterone: “Where?”
Estrogen: “Away. I dunno. To school. To some absurdly extended day, dawn to dusk school. Better yet, boarding school. And I’m hiring a nanny to cater to even the tiniest of cracks in between their away, and my tomorrow.”
Testosterone: “What?”
Estrogen: “And I’m going back to the real working world, where I only have to deal with crap in the figurative form, and where people pretend to produce without prompting and prompting and prompting again, and where I don’t have to conduct conference calls in the commode while muffling the “MAMA, MAMA”s with my once white towels wedged in the sliver of hope at the rock bottom saddest attempt at an “office”, and where my write-ups won’t include my failings at Pinterest and organics and scrapbooking and sickeningly cute little Christmas crafts and…
Testosterone: “And what?”
Estrogen: <insert waterworks> “And where I’m not failing…THEM!” <insert waterfall>
Unfortunately, this explosion of estrogen is not my confession. It is just the script for every Tuesday…or really every DAY! No, this is the real confession…
Testosterone: <unwavered by my routine hysteria> “What? But you haven’t even lost it yet…and its almost eleven! Doesn’t that make today a good day?”
And there it is.
My ability to refrain from losing my mind, losing my temper, and some days just preventing the loss of my actual children through lunchtime, is all it takes to constitute a “good day” in our household.
I wish I could confess he was being a jerk.
He was not.
He was just being right.
So with his words of wisdom, I stormed back into the tornado of today, secured by the knowledge that I had already made it through lunch without a single loss, and set aside my white flag…
…well, at least until tomorrow.
Alright, I only made it another hour before I lost it all. Close enough!
And in the spirit of my long dead Grateful 365 Project, I have decided to switch my shame to celebration, in an attempt to laugh and learn and embrace the ugly.
Grateful 365 Day 133: Testosterone. I hate it in the moment. I mean, estrogen level HATE it! But it is only thing that keeps me from losing it.
In other words, I’m sorry, Honey!