Writing this post on my way into work on Monday morning, I’m already overwhelmed. I know that on my in box are three messages from three separate partners with three different projects all of which need to be done “first thing” Monday morning. None of the messages ask if I’m available to do a project “first thing” Monday morning. None of the messages ask if I have court. All three just assume that I’ll drop whatever I’m doing and make magic happen. Nobody cares how I do it, they just care that I do their work.
I wonder why the partners go through the “first thing Monday morning” song and dance. Why don’t they just send me an email saying “Do this work this weekend.”? After all, that’s what they want. They feel I owe them a day since Snowpocalypse prevented people from working one day last week. And while I have no objection to working for my salary, the truth is we could have a week of snowpocalypses and I still would have more billable hours than the minimum firm requirement. The partners are already getting the benefit of their bargain. But the partners don’t look at it that way. All they see is that they paid me my salary for an entire week last week and the snow gave me a Wednesday off. Therefore, they need to send me at least eight hours of additional work.
I know I could have avoided this Monday morning stress by actually doing the work that was emailed to me over the weekend. But I felt entitled to my weekend. Friday was my Friday off. And, like almost every Friday I schedule off, there was an “emergency” that required me to drive to a client and work for half a day there. I did that, without complaint. I also worked on Snowpocalypse. Yes, the majority of the day I spent with the kids, playing play-doh and sledding outside. Husband has a job that requires him to work no matter the natural disaster - I had to watch the kids. But I still worked. After dinner I turned on a movie for the kids and redlined a brief. And I sent it to a partner. They know I was working. The firm didn’t get any “free day” from me.
So I felt entitled to take my weekend and focus on my family. With the loose definition of “emergency” employed by my firm, there will always be the opportunity to do additional work on the weekend. But there are only a few more weekends that I’ll be able to take my kids ice skating or participate in parent-tot gymnastics. I chose that.
But now I’m paying the price. I have no idea which project I’m going to do first, or how I’m even going to manage to do three “emergency” projects on top of the marketing meeting the firm scheduled for me this morning, the meeting with the chair of the non-profit I volunteer for and – oh yeah – my own caseload. I’m sure if you asked the partners they’d tell you that I’ll figure it out. And they are right. I will figure it out. But I’d do the work with a lot less resentment if even one of the partners had asked me to do their project rather than assume I would drop everything to make their assumption a reality.
The firm can continue dumping projects on me, trying to squeeze every last billable hour out of me. But they more they take away from my family during the week, the more I’m going to protect my weekend and day off. Push all you want, law firm, but you don’t own me just because you pay me a salary. You claim to be a firm that puts family first, and I’m going to be the one to hold you to that. Or I'll be fired trying.
Karen
Showing posts with label complaints. Show all posts
Showing posts with label complaints. Show all posts
Monday, February 7, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Christmas Past
As it is the Monday after Christmas, I sincerely hope that if you are reading this you are at home, in your jammies, holding a nice hot cup of coffee (or tea or whatever) listening to your kids play with their new toys in background with nothing on your agenda but another day of rest. Unlike me, who trudged into work today on my regular commuter train in my business casual to write a brief that is due on new year’s eve (thanks for that, municipal court judge).
For me, Christmas has always been a mix of excitement and disappointment. This year was no different. Overall, I would say that this Christmas was the best Christmas I can remember. My kids were both so excited for Santa. We’d spent weeks talking about what we’d ask him for, reading Clifford’s Christmas Presents and looking at “Santa Clause trees” in stores. KJ even visited Santa, sitting on his lap and giving him a hug – a huge departure from last year’s crying. Plus my whole family came to town this Christmas – an actual first. Most years one or the other of my brothers comes to town, but somehow the stars aligned and this year we had both. This meant more kids, more presents and just generally more fun. And we celebrated. We did our usual Christmas eve exchange with lots of hors d’oeuvres and punch. We played in the snow and the kids wrested with Uncle G for hours. Some of us even got seats at Christmas mass (thanks Aunt A for being visibly pregnant).
But the very best part of Christmas for me was when my kids came down the stairs at 7:15 Christmas morning. From what I understand, Santa does things a little differently at my house. Santa comes, of course, but he doesn’t wrap any of the gifts. Instead, he sets all of the gifts up around the tree so when the kids come down the stairs they are greeted with a visual unmatched by any toy store. When my kids came down the stairs and saw that Santa had, indeed come, they literally began jumping up and down with excitement. They were so excited they couldn’t believe their eyes. It was one of those moments that makes an impression on a parent’s heart. I will forever remember my little ones in their pink and blue footie pajamas, jumping up and down with excitement over the toys Santa brought them. Their joy was my joy. It was everything you could ask for as a parent.
Of course, the jumping up and down stopped eventually and we were relegated to taking toys out of boxes and building train tracks, but it was still a great morning. It wasn’t until Husband and I exchanged gifts that the disappointment arose.
Ever since toys have stopped being the main focus of my Christmas I’ve dreaded the holiday a bit. Like a lot of girls, what I wanted most years for Christmas was clothes. Except for Christmas, my parents never, ever bought me any clothes. I was expected to buy my own with the money I made babysitting from the time I was about in sixth grade. As a result, I didn’t own very many clothes, and I was often relegated to re-wearing things. Which explains why I wore the same dress to my eighth grade graduation and my confirmation junior year of high school. But I digress.
The point is, most years I wanted clothes. And my mom was happy to buy me clothes. The only problem was that my mom would only buy clothes from one store, and she would never buy anything from the juniors department. So all of the clothes I received were clothes for middle aged women. I know that my mom meant well, but she always bought clothes she liked for herself, without thinking about what was appropriate for her teenage daughter. As a result, I had an interesting wardrobe and spent many Christmases trying to figure out how many things I could take back without hurting my mother’s feelings. It really just wasn’t all that fun.
In recent years, the Christmas disappointment has shifted from my parents to my husband. Every year he shops for me last minute and buys lots of thoughtless things as if the number of presents will hide the fact that he just bought a bunch of crap that was piled on end caps at Target on Christmas Eve. This year was no exception. I asked Husband to buy me a white blouse to wear to work. Because I know Husband hates shopping and that he would never go to a store other than Target or Kohls to buy me anything, I sent him a link to the exact one I wanted. With free shipping. And 30% off. I even followed up a few days later with another link to another store with a similar shirt so he’d have two options, in the event he needed it.
Fast forward to Christmas morning. I had four packages from Husband. None of them contained a white blouse. Husband bought me three pairs of pajamas, a pair of slippers and a work out video. I know that Husband went shopping for me on December 23. I know because he called me to ask my shoe size (as a result, I also knew one of my presents would be slippers, which, despite the phone call, didn’t fit). As I opened the first pair of pajamas Husband tells me that he knows it is the wrong size, but it was the only size they had left. Not only is it the wrong size, but it is the exact pattern he declared his “least favorite” when we looked at them at Target a few weeks back. Following this, I opened two more pairs of pajamas that not only were a style I would never wear, but were clear indications that unlike my mom, Husband does shop in the junior’s department. Needless to say, they are all things that will be going back. And, like Christmases past, I was disappointed.
I think that I am worth more thought than a December 23rd grab and gift. If Husband hadn’t waited until the last minute, he might have had a choice in sizes. Or patterns that didn’t involve peace signs or reindeer with heart-shaped bottoms. If he had spent two seconds and clicked the link I sent him, he could have had Christmas shipped right to his door. But Husband couldn’t be bothered to think about me until there was no more time to put it off. So he bought a bunch of crap that was convenient, and now I’ll have to pretend to like it or spend time I really don’t have waiting in super long lines to take it back. Merry Christmas to me.
I’m tired of being disappointed at Christmas and being thought of only at the last second. Although I sound ungrateful, I think I’m a pretty good wife and deserve better. It’d be one thing if he accidentally bought me the wrong size or if he picked out something he’d thought I’d like. It’s an entirely different thing that he knowingly picked out something in the wrong size that he already declared he didn’t like just to cross me off his list. So I told Husband this. And he took it well. But I don’t really expect things to change. After all, this year was an improvement over the year he gave me his old cell phone.
Am I alone in the Christmas disappointment? It doesn’t seem like I’ve ever talked to anyone who has expressed anything but gratitude for their Christmas gifts. Am I simply out of line? I am grateful that we are in a position where Husband could buy me something. Should that be enough? Am I being selfish in wanting him to buy me something that shows he actually considered what I might want or like or need?
I don’t know what the answer is, but I’ve decided to remember this Christmas as the Christmas my kids jumped up and down with excitement over the toys Santa brought. The disappointment over gifts from Husband will wane like the returns line and I won’t think of them again. That part of Christmas is Christmas past.
Karen
For me, Christmas has always been a mix of excitement and disappointment. This year was no different. Overall, I would say that this Christmas was the best Christmas I can remember. My kids were both so excited for Santa. We’d spent weeks talking about what we’d ask him for, reading Clifford’s Christmas Presents and looking at “Santa Clause trees” in stores. KJ even visited Santa, sitting on his lap and giving him a hug – a huge departure from last year’s crying. Plus my whole family came to town this Christmas – an actual first. Most years one or the other of my brothers comes to town, but somehow the stars aligned and this year we had both. This meant more kids, more presents and just generally more fun. And we celebrated. We did our usual Christmas eve exchange with lots of hors d’oeuvres and punch. We played in the snow and the kids wrested with Uncle G for hours. Some of us even got seats at Christmas mass (thanks Aunt A for being visibly pregnant).
Of course, the jumping up and down stopped eventually and we were relegated to taking toys out of boxes and building train tracks, but it was still a great morning. It wasn’t until Husband and I exchanged gifts that the disappointment arose.
Ever since toys have stopped being the main focus of my Christmas I’ve dreaded the holiday a bit. Like a lot of girls, what I wanted most years for Christmas was clothes. Except for Christmas, my parents never, ever bought me any clothes. I was expected to buy my own with the money I made babysitting from the time I was about in sixth grade. As a result, I didn’t own very many clothes, and I was often relegated to re-wearing things. Which explains why I wore the same dress to my eighth grade graduation and my confirmation junior year of high school. But I digress.
The point is, most years I wanted clothes. And my mom was happy to buy me clothes. The only problem was that my mom would only buy clothes from one store, and she would never buy anything from the juniors department. So all of the clothes I received were clothes for middle aged women. I know that my mom meant well, but she always bought clothes she liked for herself, without thinking about what was appropriate for her teenage daughter. As a result, I had an interesting wardrobe and spent many Christmases trying to figure out how many things I could take back without hurting my mother’s feelings. It really just wasn’t all that fun.
In recent years, the Christmas disappointment has shifted from my parents to my husband. Every year he shops for me last minute and buys lots of thoughtless things as if the number of presents will hide the fact that he just bought a bunch of crap that was piled on end caps at Target on Christmas Eve. This year was no exception. I asked Husband to buy me a white blouse to wear to work. Because I know Husband hates shopping and that he would never go to a store other than Target or Kohls to buy me anything, I sent him a link to the exact one I wanted. With free shipping. And 30% off. I even followed up a few days later with another link to another store with a similar shirt so he’d have two options, in the event he needed it.
Fast forward to Christmas morning. I had four packages from Husband. None of them contained a white blouse. Husband bought me three pairs of pajamas, a pair of slippers and a work out video. I know that Husband went shopping for me on December 23. I know because he called me to ask my shoe size (as a result, I also knew one of my presents would be slippers, which, despite the phone call, didn’t fit). As I opened the first pair of pajamas Husband tells me that he knows it is the wrong size, but it was the only size they had left. Not only is it the wrong size, but it is the exact pattern he declared his “least favorite” when we looked at them at Target a few weeks back. Following this, I opened two more pairs of pajamas that not only were a style I would never wear, but were clear indications that unlike my mom, Husband does shop in the junior’s department. Needless to say, they are all things that will be going back. And, like Christmases past, I was disappointed.
I think that I am worth more thought than a December 23rd grab and gift. If Husband hadn’t waited until the last minute, he might have had a choice in sizes. Or patterns that didn’t involve peace signs or reindeer with heart-shaped bottoms. If he had spent two seconds and clicked the link I sent him, he could have had Christmas shipped right to his door. But Husband couldn’t be bothered to think about me until there was no more time to put it off. So he bought a bunch of crap that was convenient, and now I’ll have to pretend to like it or spend time I really don’t have waiting in super long lines to take it back. Merry Christmas to me.
I’m tired of being disappointed at Christmas and being thought of only at the last second. Although I sound ungrateful, I think I’m a pretty good wife and deserve better. It’d be one thing if he accidentally bought me the wrong size or if he picked out something he’d thought I’d like. It’s an entirely different thing that he knowingly picked out something in the wrong size that he already declared he didn’t like just to cross me off his list. So I told Husband this. And he took it well. But I don’t really expect things to change. After all, this year was an improvement over the year he gave me his old cell phone.
Am I alone in the Christmas disappointment? It doesn’t seem like I’ve ever talked to anyone who has expressed anything but gratitude for their Christmas gifts. Am I simply out of line? I am grateful that we are in a position where Husband could buy me something. Should that be enough? Am I being selfish in wanting him to buy me something that shows he actually considered what I might want or like or need?
I don’t know what the answer is, but I’ve decided to remember this Christmas as the Christmas my kids jumped up and down with excitement over the toys Santa brought. The disappointment over gifts from Husband will wane like the returns line and I won’t think of them again. That part of Christmas is Christmas past.
Karen
Monday, December 20, 2010
Nice Mommy Vs. Mean Mommy
B commented this weekend that she wanted me to be “Nice Mommy.” I asked her what she meant by “Nice Mommy” and her response was “you don’t yell or get mad at me.” This was of course, after I had yelled at her to get her coat on so we could go to lunch. For full disclosure, the yelling came after 3 times of politely asking her to put on her coat, with no response from B.
Lately, it seems as if I am becoming more of “Mean Mommy.” I don’t know if it is the stress of the holiday season or realizing that my girls should know better, but I am less and less patience with my 4 ½ year olds. Or…my hubby thinks I am finally starting to not let the kids walk all over me.
Yes, I am guilty of being the “Nice Mommy” and giving out excuses every time my kids did something wrong. If they needed a blanket, I would go get it for them instead of making them get it themselves. If they threw a fit at bedtime, it was because I had kept them up too long and they were over tired. If they didn’t try a new food, it was because I am a picky eater. The excuses go on and on…Additionally, I often feel guilty that I don’t get to spend a lot of time with them because of work, so any time I do spend with them, I want to be happy. I don’t want to be mean – especially if we only get to hang out at night for a few hours.
But after the girls’ teachers told me I was raising drama queens, I knew something had to be done. So no more letting A & B tearing up the house or talking back (yes, this has already started). I guess “Mean Mommy” needs to be more assertive. And I don’t mean corporal punishments or boarding school, but I don’t think cleaning up after themselves or answering questions when asked are terrible tasks. Even if it means no more “Nice Mommy.”
Is anyone else in the same situation as me? Any suggestions?
Jean Anne
By the way (or BTW if I were texting this), I really like being “Nice Mommy.”
Lately, it seems as if I am becoming more of “Mean Mommy.” I don’t know if it is the stress of the holiday season or realizing that my girls should know better, but I am less and less patience with my 4 ½ year olds. Or…my hubby thinks I am finally starting to not let the kids walk all over me.
Yes, I am guilty of being the “Nice Mommy” and giving out excuses every time my kids did something wrong. If they needed a blanket, I would go get it for them instead of making them get it themselves. If they threw a fit at bedtime, it was because I had kept them up too long and they were over tired. If they didn’t try a new food, it was because I am a picky eater. The excuses go on and on…Additionally, I often feel guilty that I don’t get to spend a lot of time with them because of work, so any time I do spend with them, I want to be happy. I don’t want to be mean – especially if we only get to hang out at night for a few hours.
But after the girls’ teachers told me I was raising drama queens, I knew something had to be done. So no more letting A & B tearing up the house or talking back (yes, this has already started). I guess “Mean Mommy” needs to be more assertive. And I don’t mean corporal punishments or boarding school, but I don’t think cleaning up after themselves or answering questions when asked are terrible tasks. Even if it means no more “Nice Mommy.”
Is anyone else in the same situation as me? Any suggestions?
Jean Anne
By the way (or BTW if I were texting this), I really like being “Nice Mommy.”
Friday, December 17, 2010
Appreciative
Yesterday at work I received an e-mail from a partner about a web site called appreciate-it.com (http://www.appreciate-it.com/). The web site is designed to encourage people to describe who or what they appreciate in life. The site is, of course, doing this for advertising purposes – they plan to submit this list as the longest, most sentimentalist holiday letter of all time to the Guinness Book of World Records. But business purposes aside, it is an uplifting site.
As you might imagine, the things people list as being appreciative of vary widely. But for the most part, the things people appreciate most are simple things. Like, “loving someone and having them love you back” (no. 4271), “being a part of something” (no. 4214), “second chances” (no. 4155), “making it through a tough year” (no. 4590); “my faith”(no. 4546); “the chance to make a difference” (no. 4500). People also were also very appreciative of each other, sometimes listing the names of people who made a difference, other times listing descriptors like, “my rock star kids” (no. 4487), friends who come early and stay late” (no. 4295), “my mother, who works like there’s no tomorrow, for my tomorrow” (no. 4337); and “the guy who rescued me when my car got stuck in the ice last night” (no. 4133).
What a great message for this time of year. As we wrap up (pun intended) the final shopping days and start planning our holiday dinners, it is easy to get distracted by all that “has” to be done or the pressure of having a picture-perfect holiday. But no matter what’s under the tree on Christmas morning, we all have things to be thankful for.
I encourage all of you to go to the site for a few minutes today and read what people are appreciating in December 2010. It’ll lift your heart, and possibly make you laugh (see no. 4133). It’s just the thing to help each us keep what’s truly important in perspective at we head to the final holiday stretch.
And, if reading all these wonderful things that people are thankful for in their lives doesn’t quite push you over the edge into a happy mood, remind yourself that today is Friday. And next week has a holiday.
Karen
As you might imagine, the things people list as being appreciative of vary widely. But for the most part, the things people appreciate most are simple things. Like, “loving someone and having them love you back” (no. 4271), “being a part of something” (no. 4214), “second chances” (no. 4155), “making it through a tough year” (no. 4590); “my faith”(no. 4546); “the chance to make a difference” (no. 4500). People also were also very appreciative of each other, sometimes listing the names of people who made a difference, other times listing descriptors like, “my rock star kids” (no. 4487), friends who come early and stay late” (no. 4295), “my mother, who works like there’s no tomorrow, for my tomorrow” (no. 4337); and “the guy who rescued me when my car got stuck in the ice last night” (no. 4133).
What a great message for this time of year. As we wrap up (pun intended) the final shopping days and start planning our holiday dinners, it is easy to get distracted by all that “has” to be done or the pressure of having a picture-perfect holiday. But no matter what’s under the tree on Christmas morning, we all have things to be thankful for.
I encourage all of you to go to the site for a few minutes today and read what people are appreciating in December 2010. It’ll lift your heart, and possibly make you laugh (see no. 4133). It’s just the thing to help each us keep what’s truly important in perspective at we head to the final holiday stretch.
And, if reading all these wonderful things that people are thankful for in their lives doesn’t quite push you over the edge into a happy mood, remind yourself that today is Friday. And next week has a holiday.
Karen
Friday, December 3, 2010
Allow me to complain...
I am normally a person of a sunny disposition and you’ll be hard pressed to see me in a bad mood. But every now and then I just get this feeling. It grows and grows and eats at me….like an illness it takes over my body...
The need to COMPLAIN.
Ah complaining…we all need to do it. But unfortunately when I get in one of these moods it feels like I’m in a big crowd of people screaming out my complaints but no one can hear me. Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that it is not just me, it’s a point of nature that when you become a mother you somehow lose the right to complain. Oh sure, we are allowed to complain when pregnant, probably because our men feel responsible for putting us in a position of carrying a watermelon around on our bladders for several months. But when the baby comes out…presto…gain a baby, lose complaining.
Think about it, mothers don’t complain. And trust me, its not because they don’t want to…its because no one hears them when they do. Take the classic example of the winter cold or flu. When a mother gets sick, they are doped high to the sky on cold medicine sniffling and sneezing while chasing around after their kids, cooking dinner, working, AND cleaning. But when a father gets sick…oh my the world stops. They can’t do anything and if you force them to, get ready for a guilt trip! Now I’m not picking on the male species, since I am surrounded by them almost exclusively with two sons, a husband, two brothers, two dads, nephews, etc. But, can somebody please explain to me how the toughest of men can be taken completely out by a case of the sniffles?
Mothers also can’t complain because of the response we get when we do. The classic example here is if we try to complain about getting “me” time. When we do this, we are instantly swarmed by questions: "What's wrong?" “Are you stressed out?” “Are your kids driving you crazy?”. Yep, when we request some “me” time the world scrambles that in their brains and translates it to: “I don’t like my kids”. And that's not what we are saying...we love our children, but yet we are instantly judged if we want to go for a spa day or out shopping sans children.
But in addition to the judging, we have to face our biggest obstacle when complaining. We are 99% of the time met with the “oh you think that’s bad”s when we complain. I get these all the time. I’ll sit down and tell someone “Oh I had the worst day…” and the person instantly says back to me “Oh you think that’s bad, you should hear what happened to me” and turns the topic to their complaint. Suddenly, I am changed from the complainer to the therapist. It’s not a competition people. I know you have problems, but can we for 5 minutes just focus on mine?
Wait a second…am I actually complaining about complaining?
I believe that I have a need to complain because I know I can’t. It’s that age old premise that if you can’t do something, you’ll want to do it more.
So allow me to complain this morning. There really is no better place to do it. I mean, you are just reading this and so you can’t give me a “Oh you think that’s bad” while I’m venting!
(1) I’m tired. I can’t complain about my lack of sleep because my husband works nights and so he instantly assumes he has less sleep than me (which is often true but not always the case). But, since L is now teething man I am tired lately!
(2) I have a ton of work to accomplish. I can’t complain about my huge caseload at work because compared to my colleagues I don’t bill nearly what they do. But, man my task list is overflowing lately!
(3) I miss my kids. I can’t complain about missing my kids when I work, because well I have no choice…I have to work, so really what’s the point of complaining about it?? But I really miss them when I’m working!
(4) I just want to come home to a clean house. I can’t complain about the fact that when I leave home in the morning the house is often clean, but when I return at the end of the day it looks like a fraternity house on Sunday morning. I’ll walk in from a hard day of work, and there are my children and my husband sitting there blind to the fact that they can hardly walk due to the mess that is all around them. They would rather trip over clothes and toys instead of simply picking them up! Is it asking too much to come home to a clean, organized, and Pine-sol smelling house?? Okay, wait...that just happens on HGTV.
(5) I really miss shopping. I can’t complain that I have not been able to shop for myself for about 4 years! I used to be one of those people that lived for the mall (I have the credit card bills to prove it). I loved shopping for new clothes, new suits, and ooh designer purses. That was always “my thing”. When I was 21 I vowed that I would never own a knock off. If I wanted a Coach bag…I’d pay the admittedly insane price instead of going around the corner and finding the knock off for $21.95. Yet here I am, about 10 years later with a knock off purse under my desk and wearing an outfit I’ve seriously owned for 10 years.
(6) I miss me. I can’t complain about the fact that I don’t get time for myself. Here’s how my attempts play out: I come home and Todd is finally home for the night. I think to myself...ok I can do some scrapbooking, or go shopping and he can watch the kids. But then I think to myself…hmm…shouldn’t I be taking this chance to do laundry or clean the bathrooms? Or if I start to get my coat on to head out the door for some shopping alone I instantly have sad eyes staring at me, coats in hand, crying “Mommy, we want to come!!” Before I know it I’m carting two toddlers and a baby seat through Target.
So to all of you fellow Moms that want to complain but feel you can’t…trust me you are not alone. And its not really that I have a life I want to complain about…because I don’t. I admit I have an amazing life and have never been happier. But even though my “grass is green”, I still from time to time may want to complain about having to cut it (if that makes any sense at all).
And to all the husbands out there, including my own, remember to allow your wives to complain. Trust me if we do…if we are giving the chance to just sit and complain (without comment) we actually will not want to complain. I promise you that. And let me help you out…after we complain each time your line is… “Oh honey I’m so sorry about that. How can I help?”. And if you are like my husband try to say this without sounding sarcastic!
But since boys will be boys and may not heed my advice, please feel free to use me as your sounding board and leave me your complaints. Just please don't complain about the length of this entry!
Mandi
The need to COMPLAIN.
Ah complaining…we all need to do it. But unfortunately when I get in one of these moods it feels like I’m in a big crowd of people screaming out my complaints but no one can hear me. Over the years, I have come to the conclusion that it is not just me, it’s a point of nature that when you become a mother you somehow lose the right to complain. Oh sure, we are allowed to complain when pregnant, probably because our men feel responsible for putting us in a position of carrying a watermelon around on our bladders for several months. But when the baby comes out…presto…gain a baby, lose complaining.
Think about it, mothers don’t complain. And trust me, its not because they don’t want to…its because no one hears them when they do. Take the classic example of the winter cold or flu. When a mother gets sick, they are doped high to the sky on cold medicine sniffling and sneezing while chasing around after their kids, cooking dinner, working, AND cleaning. But when a father gets sick…oh my the world stops. They can’t do anything and if you force them to, get ready for a guilt trip! Now I’m not picking on the male species, since I am surrounded by them almost exclusively with two sons, a husband, two brothers, two dads, nephews, etc. But, can somebody please explain to me how the toughest of men can be taken completely out by a case of the sniffles?
Mothers also can’t complain because of the response we get when we do. The classic example here is if we try to complain about getting “me” time. When we do this, we are instantly swarmed by questions: "What's wrong?" “Are you stressed out?” “Are your kids driving you crazy?”. Yep, when we request some “me” time the world scrambles that in their brains and translates it to: “I don’t like my kids”. And that's not what we are saying...we love our children, but yet we are instantly judged if we want to go for a spa day or out shopping sans children.
But in addition to the judging, we have to face our biggest obstacle when complaining. We are 99% of the time met with the “oh you think that’s bad”s when we complain. I get these all the time. I’ll sit down and tell someone “Oh I had the worst day…” and the person instantly says back to me “Oh you think that’s bad, you should hear what happened to me” and turns the topic to their complaint. Suddenly, I am changed from the complainer to the therapist. It’s not a competition people. I know you have problems, but can we for 5 minutes just focus on mine?
Wait a second…am I actually complaining about complaining?
I believe that I have a need to complain because I know I can’t. It’s that age old premise that if you can’t do something, you’ll want to do it more.
So allow me to complain this morning. There really is no better place to do it. I mean, you are just reading this and so you can’t give me a “Oh you think that’s bad” while I’m venting!
(1) I’m tired. I can’t complain about my lack of sleep because my husband works nights and so he instantly assumes he has less sleep than me (which is often true but not always the case). But, since L is now teething man I am tired lately!
(2) I have a ton of work to accomplish. I can’t complain about my huge caseload at work because compared to my colleagues I don’t bill nearly what they do. But, man my task list is overflowing lately!
(3) I miss my kids. I can’t complain about missing my kids when I work, because well I have no choice…I have to work, so really what’s the point of complaining about it?? But I really miss them when I’m working!
(4) I just want to come home to a clean house. I can’t complain about the fact that when I leave home in the morning the house is often clean, but when I return at the end of the day it looks like a fraternity house on Sunday morning. I’ll walk in from a hard day of work, and there are my children and my husband sitting there blind to the fact that they can hardly walk due to the mess that is all around them. They would rather trip over clothes and toys instead of simply picking them up! Is it asking too much to come home to a clean, organized, and Pine-sol smelling house?? Okay, wait...that just happens on HGTV.
(5) I really miss shopping. I can’t complain that I have not been able to shop for myself for about 4 years! I used to be one of those people that lived for the mall (I have the credit card bills to prove it). I loved shopping for new clothes, new suits, and ooh designer purses. That was always “my thing”. When I was 21 I vowed that I would never own a knock off. If I wanted a Coach bag…I’d pay the admittedly insane price instead of going around the corner and finding the knock off for $21.95. Yet here I am, about 10 years later with a knock off purse under my desk and wearing an outfit I’ve seriously owned for 10 years.
(6) I miss me. I can’t complain about the fact that I don’t get time for myself. Here’s how my attempts play out: I come home and Todd is finally home for the night. I think to myself...ok I can do some scrapbooking, or go shopping and he can watch the kids. But then I think to myself…hmm…shouldn’t I be taking this chance to do laundry or clean the bathrooms? Or if I start to get my coat on to head out the door for some shopping alone I instantly have sad eyes staring at me, coats in hand, crying “Mommy, we want to come!!” Before I know it I’m carting two toddlers and a baby seat through Target.
So to all of you fellow Moms that want to complain but feel you can’t…trust me you are not alone. And its not really that I have a life I want to complain about…because I don’t. I admit I have an amazing life and have never been happier. But even though my “grass is green”, I still from time to time may want to complain about having to cut it (if that makes any sense at all).
And to all the husbands out there, including my own, remember to allow your wives to complain. Trust me if we do…if we are giving the chance to just sit and complain (without comment) we actually will not want to complain. I promise you that. And let me help you out…after we complain each time your line is… “Oh honey I’m so sorry about that. How can I help?”. And if you are like my husband try to say this without sounding sarcastic!
But since boys will be boys and may not heed my advice, please feel free to use me as your sounding board and leave me your complaints. Just please don't complain about the length of this entry!
Mandi
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