Pity Party



The second day at my new job. Cubicle Land. Meh.

All day long, I am schizophrenic– 

I can do this.

I can’t do this. 

This isn’t so bad.

This is torture.

Hooray for structure.

Really? This? All day? Every day?

I miss my girl.

Finally it is 5:15 and time to go the hell home. To see my baby (who’s really not a baby).


Cue the rain. Good God, more rain. And the traffic. Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

I feel each muscle tense with every minute. I check the clock with each step of the brake.

Shit, I’m going to be late.

And this urge, this incredible urge to get to my baby.

Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

My jaw clenches.

I try to distract myself by looking at the ducks in the newly created ponds along the parkway thanks to the relentless rain. But it’s no use. I check the clock again.

Shit. I can’t believe I’m going to be late. Daycare is closing and I am not there! Mother fucker.

I finally arrive and force my fingers to uncurl from the steering wheel. I run inside with no umbrella because I just want to see my baby. Need to see my girl and feel my arms around her. She is the only child left.

I smile big at her, finally exhaling. “Hey, Bug-a-boodle!”

She turns away from me. For the first time, she does not run to me with a giant hug. She turns away.

I try not to let the teacher see the tears well as I coax Charlie into her raincoat and apologize for running late.


“So how was your day, Baby? What did you do at school today?”

But she can sense I’m upset.

“Mommy, do you sad?” (“Do” is her all purpose helping verb)

“A little sad, Honey, yes.”

“But why?”

“I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, Mommy. Daddy’s gonna be home soon. It’s okay.”

“Thanks, Baby.”


I discover the dog peed on the couch (because who can blame the poor thing home alone in the house for nine hours).

I notice the freezer had been left halfway open. Don’t ask me how. But everything is mush and Charlie cries as I try to throw away her melted popsicles. I give her a couple melted ones in a bowl with a spoon to calm her and that seems to do the trick.

Charlie asks me to put a movie on for her, but I can’t get one of the remotes to work. I try changing the batteries. No luck.

Then my husband calls to tell me he’s stuck in traffic.

Damn rain.

Fucking route 4.

I start to cook dinner. My husband arrives home and we eat.

Shit, 8:00 already?

“Is it a bath night,” he asks.

It is, but I’m feeling too defeated to care.

I clean the kitchen while Greg gets Charlie ready for bed and they watch the end of a movie.

So this is my life now, huh?

Nothing about this feels right.

I’m exhausted. Charlie is in bed asking for me to snuggle.

At least I have that.

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  1. LeeWee says:

    It won’t always be like this. It just happened to be “one of those days”. You’ll find your groove and it will come easier. 30 minute meals are your friend! xoxoxo :)


  2. Irene Landon says:

    Ah Kelly … it will get better.,..only 3 mos can do anything for 3 mo! You may always feel like you don’t like it but it WILL get better.xxxxx


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