Some days you just can’t be cool. Some days you have to scream and kick and throw your own tantrum. Maybe slam a door or two. Utter a few ominous threats in a gutteral tone. Let people know you are not cool.
I’d even say go so far as to deliver some outrageous ultimatums to your self-absorbed partner and ungrateful children. Make sure they know you are serious. They will be easy to convince and will take you totally seriously.
Refuse to make dinner, or make it in a hateful hurry and throw it on the table to drive home the obvious point that nobody around here appreciates you.
Don’t do anything that would actually help you unwind or reconnect. Avoid a walk around the block or a quick bath at all costs. If some
bastard gently suggests calling a girlfriend for a chat, snarl at them so they know how much of an idiot they are for suggesting such a thing.
Do not, whatever you do, agree to a civil conversation with any member of your family.
Clean something you don’t care about vigorously. Curse the mountain of dishes, the long flight of stairs down to the laundry room, your genes, the stack of unsorted mail. Definitely curse that effing Lego piece you just stepped on and the fruit flies you can’t get rid of to save your life.
If you feel the tension start to loosen a little bit, don’t let it go. Not yet. You deserve to be mad. Nobody appreciates you. Nobody knows what you deal with, what you put up with.
Hear your husband start to put the kids to bed and feel a fresh wave of rage as you hear giggling and wrestling.
How dare they have fun after what they’ve put you through. How dare Dad rile them up before bed. God, he sucks at this.
Scroll Facebook detachedly for awhile. Keep scrolling, long past when you’ve caught up on the few things you might actually care about. Look at pictures of other families and imagine their perfect lives, their clean houses and appreciated mothers.
Ignore your husband when he comes downstairs from putting the kids to bed. When he asks if you want to watch an episode of Downton Abbey,
look at him like he is the worst decision you ever made and say you are going to bed. Go upstairs.
Regret not saying yes to an episode of Downton Abbey.
Haul two armfuls of unfolded laundry from your bed and stuff them onto the chair in the corner.
Catch your sons favorite torn up jeans out of the corner of your eye and remember the adorable conversation a few days ago where he legitimately talked you out of throwing them away. Finally do what you should have done hours ago – let it all come apart and have a good ol’ cry.
Cry for awhile, mostly feeling sorry for yourself at first. Then, cry for another while as you feel guilty about some of the things you said today and how permanently damaged your kids are going to be because of it.
Inevitably wander down the hall to the kids room and open the door, letting the hall light sneak in just enough to show their faces.
Tiptoe over to the bed and remember why we don’t eat our young like some mammals. Stare at their angelic faces and let all of the anger and crazy from the day just melt away.
Lean over and kiss their foreheads so gently, making sure you don’t awaken the beasts and destroy this memory forever.
Climb into your bed. Try to remember the reasons you were so mad, why all of the hard things of the week got to be such a big deal.
When your husband comes to bed, sleepily whisper “I’m sorry”. He will be smart and say your actions were totally understandable and you are obviously beautiful.
The next morning, make breakfast and apologies.
Some days you just can’t be cool. And everyone is going to be just fine.