FFS! I forgot my makeup again! And I need it more than ever. I was so tired last night after work, commute, baseball try outs, draining my boobs of all that breast milk, making dinner, blah blah blah. I get it. It’s the new normal. Not new for any other working mom, but it’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want too 😂😭. I was physically, mentally and emotionally beat. My knees and thighs were not used to wearing high heels all day. I had to use parts of my brain for office talk that had atrophied. And I missed my big and little men something fierce. But it needs to be done. How else can I afford take out because I’m too tired to cook?
I did make my lunch last night. Repurposed an empty bag of tortillas to hold my fixings for a Cesar salad. All large tupperwear had no lids. Of course. Need some type of protein, so I’ll probably still buy to supplement but, at least it’s progress. Grabbed a Greek yogurt for breakfast. A part of the over night oatmeal parfaits I was planning on making, so progress again. Winning! 😂 No snacks, but having 2 cups of double expresso lattes seemed to surpress my appetite yesterday so, I’ll just do that one more time….one more (yah right)
My hair was still working this morning. Thank goodness because no one has time to wash, blowdry & straighten again. Tip – wash and blow dry night before, then just straighten in morning. This night time prep of meals and hair is eating too much of my life. I’ve only done it once, but still. Maybe chopping my hair will help speed up the process.
The commute this morning – the conductor closed the doors and opened it back up to let a runner in. Kind right? It is for the runner, as I’ve been that person many times, but as I sit on the train all I want is a train that doesn’t do any extras, like opening doors again so I can spend those extra seconds getting my coffee. The conductor then says “if the door is closing don’t try and choose a coach!”. What?! This mofo runner gets a reprieve from waiting another 30 minutes and instead of running straight into the closest door he gets picky. Phuck Dat guy! Let him “walk” the platform as we pull away and stare.
I get this is not the most titillating of posts, but being a working suburban mom who commutes is not all sangria and crochet. Dry humor and rants? Yes.