Saying “F*ck You” to Productivity in 2018

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I’m doing it. I’m leaning into the dumpster fire that has been 2016 - 2017, and calling the shots in 2018 by doing literally nothing. Can one lean into a dumpster fire, or would one have to actually hop in? See, I’m already digressing and avoiding the point.

 

It helps that I’m a mother who owns her own business(es), running them all from home, while my toddler and 22 lb. orange cat (aptly named Hobbes) tackle/scream at me periodically. It also helps that I feel wrongly entitled to treating myself 50% of the time (the other 50% of my time is spent talking myself out of treating myself, because I’m a Bad Mom and Don’t Deserve It).

I know, I know: “Women Actually Can’t Have It All!” isn’t exactly a hot take, and I won’t bore you with overused, stolen quotes, like, “They don’t ask dads who work, ‘How does it work, being a working dad and all?’”

Instead, I will give you a rundown of my day, because I know I always feel better reading about someone else’s failures:

 

7:45am: Wake up, because the baby is awake. It doesn’t feel like 7:45am. It feels like 6:45am. But I check my phone, and it is 7:45am.

8am: After changing the baby and handing her water and a banana and repeatedly asking her if that’s all she wants (to which she responds, “More na-na!” so I just give her more na-na), I repeatedly test my phone to see if TMobile has shut it off, because I’m late on my payment arrangement, and they refuse to extend it, because I “already paid half of it.” So they are now punishing me for paying half of my arrangement on time. Their reasoning, not mine. I paid $5 towards my total balance yesterday to test the waters and to be passive-aggressive. MY ROOK TO YOUR BISHOP, TMOBILE. Or whatever is a badass move in chess.

9am: I eat Nutella toast, which is my breakfast go-to every day. While eating it, I like to pretend I’m French instead of slowly killing myself with clogged arteries. Margot demands I also make her Nutella toast, so I do, but I only toast the toast halfway out of spite hahaha just kidding, I only toast it halfway because I’m lazy and Margot doesn’t understand how toasty toast can get just yet.

9:15am: I get up to bring my dishes to the kitchen sink, take a look at Margot, and have a conniption, because she looks like Robert Downey Jr. in any Marvel movie like, her little chocolate goatee gives me dating app flashbacks. We laugh and laugh and by “we,” I mean that I try to take a picture for social media, and she screams at me.

10:30am: After dicking around on social media and calling it “work,” I finally take a shower. My child now refuses to let me shower alone, as she is 2.5, and I am a solid 31 in the age department, which means that we are contractually obligated to shower together, every day, for the entirety of Season 2 of her life. Or at least that’s how I think baby television contracts work. I’m not SAG, so Idk.

11am: I am finally ready to drag my baby’s butt out the door (and my own butt, for that matter). I ask her if she wants to drive around. I make this sound like a lot of fun. But I’m also a benevolent ruler, so I ALSO ask if she wants to go to Barnes and Noble. She says, “Barn an’ Nob!” and I say, “Goddammit.”

11:50am: I tell Margot we have to go home, eat lunch, and take a nap, so we can see “sinosaurs” later, which means that I’m basically promising to take her to the tiny, free, 1980s-esque science museum by our house. I am blatantly lying, because my actual plan is to drop her off at daycare after her nap, so I can meet with a client. Then I will pick her up from daycare, we will go home, and I will cook an amazing family dinner, because I am Wonder Woman!

4:30pm: Fast forward. I pick up Margot from daycare. We go home. She screams “SINOSAURRRRSSSS” at me the WHOLE WAY, because a toddler never forgets. I carry her to the front door while she tantrums in my arms. Turn the key in the lock. The key breaks off in the lock.

4:32pm: I text my husband that my goddamn key broke off in the lock.

 

Him: Call repair guy.

Me: No. My phone is dying, and I have to pee. I have no charger. Should I come get your key?

Him: I guess, but we have to get the broken key out.

Me: Okay. I’m gonna take Margot to see sinosaurs first.

Him: What?

Me: I HAVE TO PEE REALLY BAD.

 

5pm: I finally pee. Margot twirls in a circle in the large stall, singsonging, “Mommy, Mommy, Mommyyyyyyyy!”

6:30pm: Fast forward. We have gone to Fernbank Science Center, Target, and Petco, before my husband finally tells me he’s home. We also go home. I reheat Spanish rice-from-a-box I made yesterday, put some avocado in it, and tell Margot it’s like a rice-and-avocado bowl from Gusto! She looks at me and dumps her cup of milk on it.

8pm - 11pm: Do client work I haven’t been able to do all day because of KeyandSinosaurGate 2018. Also eat ¼ of a tub of raw cookie dough. Not cookie dough ice cream. Straight-from-the-source, motherfucking cookie dough.

11:01pm: My phone is blessedly still not off! My posts to social media are going through! I am a productive member of society who may or may not remember when her bills are due! I started writing this post on January 1st, and finished it ten days later, and I'm fine with that! Check and mate!