Good morning, HULKSMASH.

 

7:48 am

…things are going swimmingly. The baby is fed and dressed and playing happily while I finish eating and packing up for work. Jason asks if he can get a ride to work. “Sure!” I say happily. Bossman is out so its no big deal if I’m a little late. Time to get the boy in the car seat and hit the road. Oh wait! He is stinky. I guess those play grunts were more about working something out. Ok! Quick diaper change and then we’ll be on our way.

7:53

…so this is was poop looks like when your baby starts gobbling up solid food…

8:00

F***** we have to go NOW! I snap when confronted with the arbitrary “we must leave now!” deadline my brain has apparently assigned to this specific time. I inexplicably tense up and feel anger bubbles boil just below my skin. At what? I guess because we’re going to be out the door 3 minutes after I wanted to be. Because I didn’t want to send the baby to the nanny with a dirty diaper. Because I’m going to be late. Because I didn’t get it all done ON TIME.

I continue to snap at and be short with Jason down the stairs, and getting in the car. He tries to tell me I need to calm down. There is no Sara, only Zule. We arrive at the nanny share a full block and a half from our apartment and I bolt out of the car, and pull on the door to the back seat. Goddamn auto-locks. I unreasonably pound on the door for Jason to unlock it so I can get the baby out.

He understandably doesn’t want a ride from the creature I have become anymore. He storms off toward a bus. I freak out. He was not helping ANYTHING.

I head up the stairs to drop off the baby. The tension lifts as I head into the apartment. I emerge from the fog of ridiculous rage. What the heck just happened? I take a deep breath, and unpack his things. Make some remark about it being “kind of a stressful” morning, but I’m no longer the Thing that I was only moments ago. I kiss the baby goodbye. Rub his head and wish him a good day.

8:12

Back in the car and tears quietly stream down my face as I merge onto the Kennedy. I wish I could tell my husband to have a good day. I wish he hadn’t thrown sweet tarts at me.

8:28

I arrive at work. 2 minutes early. Stupidly sad.

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