There are some days when, for whatever reason, I think about packing it up and heading home. The reasons can be small – a well timed criticism from above; a stupid mistake brought on by haste; conflict with a colleague, or a misinterpreted comment from a client – and the alternative can seem so appealing. My house would be so much cleaner, my closets so much better organized, and my family so well fed if I gave it all up and became a stay-at-home mom and domestic goddess. (The first person who points out that I don’t cook and I hate doing laundry gets poked in the eye).

Of course, soon after entertaining thoughts of maternal and household bliss, I am always snapped back into reality by my children. Tonight the role of dream crusher was played by my 5 year old (with his 2 year old sister playing a supporting role).

While picking him up this evening from daycare he pointed out that he was not wearing underwear under his heavy jeans (it was over 80 degrees today) because he peed in his pants (great) and I didn’t give him any spare clothing (bad mommy). Then, as we left the daycare he proceeded to break down into tears, right in front of the doors so that all the passing kids and parents could watch (and judge me), yelling something about the “bally ball that so-and-so threw over the fence and that I had to find.”

As I yelled at him to get into the car (and the passing kids said “don’t cry Anders” with the subtext of “listen to the crazy lady before she hurts someone”) his sister proceeded to break down into hysterics because I wouldn’t let her get into Anders’ booster seat (Bad, bad mommy).

I get to take back one “bad mommy” because I did drive around the back of the school to find his ball, which I found only after walking through several yards of unmowed grass in my favorite sling backs. (Remember this when I take a leave from Manic Mommies due to Lyme disease.)

Once at home the fun continued with another breakdown by the 5 year old related to my demand that he take off his shoes (I pay people a lot of money to keep this house clean) and sit down for dinner.

Back talk, temper tantrums, screaming – the fun never stops!

Now he is sitting/standing on steps in the foyer throwing items into our playroom and yelling, “I will not listen to your words!!!” And it’s just now 6:15 pm. Only 2 hours to go until these children go to bed. (The days are long…)

I guess I should be thankful for the reminder. There is no question that I love being a mom and I adore my kids. I also love my job and enjoy the people I work with. But there is no way in hell that I want to be with any of them 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Now I must go – my daughter is trying to coat herself with an entire tube of sunscreen.