Confessions of a Mom at the Breaking Point


Confessions of a Mom at the Breaking Point

On my way to work this morning, a little orange light shaped like a wrench went on in my dashboard.  I looked down and saw "15% OIL LIFE."

New to the area and without any idea where to go to deal with the orange wrench, I picked up my phone and told a certain "intelligent personal assistant" — let's call her "Weary" — that I needed an oil change. 

About forty-five seconds later, she replied, "I'm really sorry about this, but I can't take any requests right now."

Normally when she says something like that I throw down the phone and let out a dramatic harumph. Today, I kept the phone in my hand and said, "What is wrong with you? Why are you always so awful?"

Weary "thought" and then responded, "After all I've done for you?"

I yelled at Weary for the next half-mile. Something like: "What the *@#$ is going on here? I cannot believe you are always so @#*(ing terrible at answering my #@($#@! questions. And now you have the nerve to imply that you have actually done anything for me?!? You are the $#@*ing worst!"

Weary "thought" again and asked if I would like her to search 'What the *@#$ is going on here? I cannot believe you are always so @#*(ing terrible at answering my #@($#@! questions. And now you have the nerve to imply that you have actually done anything for me?!? You are the $#@*ing worst!' on the web.

I turned the phone off, and I realized that my little outburst was a sign that the last two weeks have taken a toll.  My three-year-old was sick last week, and I took off three days from work to be home with him. This past weekend, a college friend of my husband's passed away unexpectedly. This week, I got whatever my three-year-old had and had to take off two days from work. Also this week, my one-year-old got conjunctivitis. For the last two days, my husband has been out of the state to attend his friend's funeral. Today, daycare called, and I had to leave work early to get my one-year-old for his eye.

 

Through all of this, I have been thinking of a few very dear friends who have been going through much worse and for longer (some for much longer), and I told myself to keep perspective.

But today, when the orange wrench lit up and Weary couldn't point me to the freaking oil change station, I lost all perspective. The orange wrench became everything that had caused stress, pain, or anxiety in my family, and Weary's inability to help me amplified such a feeling of helplessness that I may have gone a little bonkers.

Now, having calmed down a bit, with my munchkins in bed (for now, at least) and my husband due home from the airport before midnight, I am regaining my perspective, and I begrudgingly have to thank Weary. She may be unavailable to help get my oil changed, but she let me take everything out on her and I don't have to worry about hurting her feelings ... because she is, after all, just talking software.

Image Source: MSVG via Flickr/Creative Commons

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, POPSUGAR.

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