May I have the envelope please……..Ms. Kristin Noel has won the award for Shittiest Mother of the Day!!!! Moms- we all have those days- and this is one of them, where NOTHING goes right, and you just feel deflated, spent, over-worked, just uggggghhhhhhh!

It started as a fairly normal day, although I was more tired than usual because I got home from work late last night, and my daughter crawled in bed with me right at 7:00 a.m. Usually, this is “cuddle time”, and I sneak in a few more zzzz’s while she sits and watches “Dora” until my son wakes up, usually around 7:30. But this morning, she didn’t want to watch Dora, she insisted on playing her Leapster. It’s a learning game, it reads to her- that’s cool, but she couldn’t play it at a normal volume, it has to be all the way up. “Mooooooo-oooom, but I can’t hear the fairy-godmother’s wand if I turn it down.” “Please, Honey- lets just turn it down a little, so we don’t wake up your brother.” “But Mooooo-ooooom, it’s not fair- I can’t hear it!” I wanted to hold her by the shoulders and scream, “No, it’s not fair! It’s not fair that I have to give up the career that I love because we can’t afford preschool, and I have to work at night and serve food and pour wine to snotty, condescending people until 11:00 at night, then come home, fall asleep by 1:00 a.m., then wake up at 7:00 and have to listen to the fairy-godmother’s wand blaring in my ear along with your whining!” But, trying to be a more loving and productive mother, I just laid there for a second, breathed a deep sigh, then in true “Supermom” fashion said, “Alright- let’s just get up and I’ll make breakfast. We’ll have fun today.” “Yaaaaaaaay!” my daughter blairs with excitement, of course loud enough to wake my other formerly sleeping child.

So, on with our morning of making binoculars out of toilet paper rolls, and coloring (while I sneak in seconds here and there to check my e-mail, Twitter and Facebook while downing two cups of coffee). Finally, it’s time to take my Sister’s girlfriend to the train station, a favor I don’t mind at all, since they offer to watch my kids every once in a while so that the Husband and I can squeeze in a date night. I decide to make a day out of it, and take my kids first to the park to play for a half-hour, before we pick her up. My kids decide to take this quality time to fight and scream at eachother over the “pink shovel”, for a reason unbeknownst to me- there are two shovels, what the hell do you need to fight over the pink one for, I think but don’t dare say. I see a couple of disapproving looks from other moms, a tad older than me, who surely own their home next to the nicest park in town, “I’ll bet her daughter could use the consistency and obedience that she would most definitely learn in preschool.” One mom would say, “Oh, yes- my little Jonny went to St. Immacculate when he was two, and now he reads at the 3rd grade level- he’s only four!” the other would chime. Then they would change the conversation to where their families are “summering” this year. “Really? My daughter hasn’t had a year of preschool because it’s too damn expensive, and I don’t even read to her every night, because I work at a Huki lounge four nights a week…” I felt like snarking at them. But I didn’t- I put away all of the sand toys, and told my kids it was time to go, even though it really wasn’t and we took the round-a-bout way to the car to take up more time, and so the Perfect Suburban Housewife Club couldn’t see my kids pushing and hitting eachother back and forth on the way to the car.

Got Sister’s girlfriend dropped off at the train station, and decided to try once again with the “Mom’s fun! We like her!” charade that I was trying to instill in my impressionable little critter’s minds, and I belt out “Who wants to go to McDonalds!?!” in a sing-songy voice that I was sure would put me at the top of their charts……”NO! I HATE McDonalds!” My daughter says as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Yay! Madonos!” My son cheers!!! “McDonald’s is for babies you stupid baby brat!” She hisses at my Son. “We aren’t allowed to say that, Daughter- that is not allowed. Apologize to your brother. NOW!” “He is a baby brat, McDonald’s is stupid.” “Daughter- we are not allowed to say ‘stupid’. If you say one more mean thing- I’m turning this car around and we’re going home!” “Good- I want to go home!” She says. “Nooooooooooooooo! Madonos!!!!!!!! Mooooooooooo-mmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyy!” My son looks as though you have just shot his dog before his eyes. “Alright- you have one last chance”. I break down and drive-thru McD’s. After a HUGE scene in front of the drive-thru window between my daughter and I about getting apple juice not chocolate milk, ’cause chocolate milk doesn’t come with a straw, and it will spill in mommy’s car, but apple juice comes in a box….etc., we were off, little happy boxes filled with crap for my kids, and a large iced mocha and a cheeseburger for me. Maybe this day could turn around afterall.

Get home, announce that in 10 minutes will be naptime, I’m eyeing the clock, since I  have to work tonight, and know that I have exactly an hour to shower, change, make myself presentable for work, and they will be asleep for exactly that amount of time. My son, who usually goes down for a nap with no problem starts crying. I go in “Can you rub my back- I go sleep like big boy….” he says with big doe-eyes and cherub cheeks. “Alright.” I give in. I rub his back, leave his room, “I love you- go to sleep now.” 10 minutes goes by, “MOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!” My daughter yells at the top of her lungs from her room. “SHHH! It is quiet time- that means be quiet….no more yelling- I mean it! You will wake up your brother.” “But Mom,” she reasons,”I wanted you to see how I dressed my Barbie.” “She looks beautiful- you’re beautiful too, now go be quiet!” Three minutes go by, “MOOOOOO-OOOOOM! MOM!” I hear my daughter yelling from her room- does this kid have a death-wish? I try to ignore her, knowing that I have to get in the shower, or else I will show up at work in yesterday’s make-up, mascara under my eyes, and greasy hair that hasn’t been washed in two days in a ponytail. I start the shower, and I hear a blaring “MOM! MOM! Come in here- I have to show you something! MOOOO-OOOM!” You have got to be goddam kidding me! I stand naked at her door, shove open the door, and say, “If you don’t be quiet, I am going to call your dad, and when he gets home, you will be sorry! Now be QUIET!” From the next room, where my son was asleep I hear a sorrowful, “I want my Dadddddyyyyy!”

I give up- only a half-hour until I have to go to work, and only 20 minutes until the Husband rides through the door on his white horse, electrician’s belt galantly slung around his waist, and white hard-hat instead just like the white cowboy hat of the “good guy” in the movies…..He strides through the door, both kids are screaming from their rooms, I look at him with tear-stained cheeks, and he says, “Hi my beautiful wife!” Awwww- usually it’s really sweet, today for some reason it feels annoying. “What are you doing?” “I’m writing.” I say matter of factly I sit in front of my computer wearing a towel, my make-up smeared and tear-stained face framed by my mess of greasy hair. “Don’t you have to go to work?” He asks. “Yes, but I need to write for a minute, or I will lose my mind. It’s been a rough day.” I try to say without my voice cracking. “Oh. Okay. I’ll get the kids up.” I’m thinking, “don’t bother- they never went down”, but I digress, and type away, my only form of therapy at the moment. “Hey, Honey…” He says from the bathroom, where he begins to take a shower, “when are you going to start making money from all your writing?” Rather than rip my greasy strands of hair out, and hiss at him like an angry cat about to rip at someone’s jugular, I pour a glass of wine, silently walk into the backyard and cry for five minutes, until I realize that it’s time to leave the house for work, or I will be fired…..And so it goes….Another day in the life of a stay-at-home-work-at-home-working-mom…