Submitted by Liz (www.helloladies.com)
So this morning I was running late for work because I had a hard time picking out an outfit because last Saturday I forgot to go to the dry cleaner because I was really busy shuffling my kids from soccer practice to a town-wide event to a party we were all invited to and so I had no clean work pants and I couldn’t wear knee-length skirts because I hadn’t shaved my legs but I had to dress professionally because my boss and I were going to an industry event later in the day to network with potential clients.
So, I decided to wear a long, flowy black skirt and after trying many different tops finally paired it with a black cardigan that looked professional and put on a pair of low black heels that wouldn’t hurt walking around a tradeshow floor and I threw on some appropriate accessories and I was ready to go but I stopped to use the bathroom because I have a long commute and I had downed three cups of coffee and …the back of my skirt fell in the toilet!
So, I had a meltdown and started ranting and my husband said, “How is this my fault?” to which I responded, “It’s not your fault. Why can’t I get upset without you thinking you need to fix it?” at which point my nine year old son came up to me, hugged me and said, “I love you mom,” which, while really sweet, made me realize he was trying to calm down psycho-mommy and someday he’d’ be in therapy because of me.
Then I went upstairs and I found a long skirt which really needed ironing but I decided not to iron because it was just going to be wrinkled again by the time I got to work and it required a new top and new shoes because it was brown not black and I didn’t really have a top that matched except the sweater I had worn to the party Saturday which I couldn’t find because my house is always a mess.
And so I ran around trying to find a top and praying to St. Anthony to find my sweater and then I noticed a shirt I bought at the Gap and had planned to return because I didn’t really love it but it was desperate times so I put it on but it still required a cardigan so that didn’t really help because St. Anthony wasn’t listening so I grabbed another shirt out of my closet as I realized I still had to keep the new shirt because I had removed the tags and tossed it on the floor and it would be wrinkled by the time I got home.
I glanced in the mirror and saw I was not even close to the look-at-me-I’m-large-and-in-charge-trust-me-with-your-communications-strategy image I wanted to project at the event but I had no choice but to wear the outfit so I decided to channel Iris Apfel and added a multi-strand turquoise necklace and leopard shoes and hoped I could project a look-at-me-I’m-hip-and-creative-trust-me-with-your-social-media-strategy image even though I knew I couldn’t because I’m a middle-aged suburban mother.
And then I realized I needed to change bags because now the big, printed bag I had planned to carry was too casual whereas before it had served as a pop of color for an all-black outfit and transferring my wallet, lunch and sunglasses from the printed bag to a new bag was risky business because it had to be done on the go because I was so late but I couldn’t really risk any erratic or distracted driving because my inspection sticker had expired and I was supposed to go the RMV at lunch but how could I leave work for a few hours when I was going to arrive so late?
Then I realized the car was on empty because I hadn’t stopped for gas the night before because I wanted to get home before it got too dark to go for a run because running helps my stress levels and I hadn’t run the night before that because I was at an environmental committee meeting because I need to save the world and I was having a hard time waking up in the mornings to run because my daughter had been throwing temper tantrums at night and I had been giving in and lying down with her even though I knew I was reinforcing bad behavior and I think seven is too old for the Ferber method.
And then after I filled the tank I tuned into the traffic report and heard there was an accident and not one, but two lanes, were blocked on the highway. And as I sat in the traffic jam I started thinking about how I wasn’t going to get to work until practically tomorrow which was really a problem because I was behind on some projects which meant I would either to have work late and skip another run or get caught up on work on the weekend therefore not having any time to go to the drycleaner and then I remembered the iPhone app that reads email aloud that I had meant to download one day while imagining I could be that kind of supermom who multitasks and has all the right apps, which according to a new study makes me prone to depression (the wanting to be a supermom, not the apps) but never did get around to downloading which was really too bad because at that point I was already 45 minutes late for work and not yet at the halfway mark and I was only driving 25 miles an hour even though I had already passed the accident.
And that is the life of a working mother.