Censoring My Inner Crotchety Old Lady
I have a marketing meeting every Monday and I’m the only mother at the table.
One of my co-workers is getting married and was talking about how she was relieved that her formal family bridal showers were over with and that it would be nice to have all the family co-mingling over with.
I just had to pipe in…
“Wait until you have kids!”
Oh dear Lord what has become of me?
At least I didn’t do any finger wagging.
Ugh.
I don’t want to be the working mother killjoy of the office but sometimes I look at the glass half empty. It’s not that it is impossible to live a charmed, balance life, and I have a fairly flexible job, but I don’t think anyone can prepare you for the sometimes craziness of marriage and having kids and working.
But then there are days when I am fully in my game, I get to work early, I get projects finished before deadline, I manage to cook dinner without burning anything and I get a couple of loads of laundry done and actually folded and put away and the girls go to bed by 8:30.
And then there are days, like Monday, when my inner crotchety old lady tries to come out. I have noticed that I’ve started bringing home jelly packets in my purse from the Cracker Barrel and that can’t be good.
