Don’t Let The Bastards Grind You Down


Wow! Two posts in one week? What kind of bizarro land is this? Man alive how things have changed! I remember a time when I would write two posts in one day. Man I was egotistical and obnoxious. Thanks for hanging in there you guys. Because now, now my friends I am the most self-adjusted, well-rounded, down-to-earth person I know. I’m so awesome.

So I’m not even exaggerating here when I say that I had THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE yesterday. Sure nobody died. And yeah I went to bed with a roof over my head, warm socks on my feet (yes I’m the wierdo who sleep with socks on) and a belly full of a delicious dinner digesting ever so happily in my stomach. But either way, it was THE WORST DAY EVER.

It wasn’t the face that I had been painting the office at work all day that got me down. Even though that is a bitch of a job and nobody in their right mind should want to partake in such activities. And it wasn’t the raging customers that seemed to continue to stroll through the doors yesterday either. It wasn’t even that one guy who kept comparing us to Subway and asking why we didn’t have certain menu items that they did. Despite the annoying eye twitch in the corner of my right eye, this was just another day at the grind.

The real problem was the furious case of mom-guilt that had slowly been inching its way up the back of my spine and burrowing itself deep into the back of my brain.

I should have seen it coming. I should have known that it would be on the brink of my psyche any day now. The signs were all there. I had been so busy with work. My spirits had been way up. I was actually feeling pretty damn good. The mom-guilt is there to knock you back down to size.

All day long this skulking just under my skull was telling me that I could do better. That I must read more with Lars. That I must listen to his long and drawn out stories of Super Mario Brothers more intently than the mere nod of a head and smile I usually offer.

This thing that was wrapping its long, antiquated talons around all that is good in my memory was reminding me that I must spend more time with Sophie. I must get her into the singing lessons she so desperately wants to be in and what about those art lessons she was asking about last month?

The mom-guilt had broken me and by midday I was nothing but a withering urchin shirking my obligations as an operational human being of society. Where is that dark hole and how long can I hide there?

Perhaps it had had enough of telling me how terrible of a mother I was because soon after lunchtime it began in on the other aspects of my life. The mom-guilt never straight up tells you you’re doing a shitty job. It just gives you a little nudge in the right direction. Hints, if you will.

*Boy oh boy, Jamie sure does work a lot harder than you.

*Oh look, that mom can handle her kid having a temper tantrum in public without totally losing her cool, why can’t you?

*Just a reminder friend, you have guests coming to visit next week and you’re home is literally the most squalid habitat on the face of the planet.

That evening when I drearily trudged into the house, I told the kids to play quietly downstairs. Meanwhile the mom-guilt laughed excitedly at how easily I had dismissed the homework portion of our routine. I ran a bath and sobbed; desperately trying to drown away this teeming culpability that had been building up inside of me all day long.

After I hugged and kissed my kids goodnight I too retired to my bed. I didn’t think about much. I literally zoned out on Gilmore Girls and wondered what it would be like to live in the magical hamlet of Stars Hollow. I needed sleep.

This morning I found the mom-guilt had disappeared, gone for now but certainly not forgotten.

Maybe it wasn’t the absolute “worst day of my life”. Probably not even in the top ten. But what I do know, is that the mom-guilt is real and when it takes holds it can be a hassle to break free from. For a long time I used to think it was just me, that I was just the worst mom ever, I was letting the mom-guilt win.

Now I look at it in a different way. I take what it so very subtly tells me, mull it over to see if any of it is viable information (mostly it’s not) and then quietly and matter-of-factly tell it to fuck right off.

And then I go back to being awesome.

So when I use this idiom, “Don’t let the bastards grind you down” I mean the mom-guilt. Don’t let the mom-guilt grind you down friends. Because we all know how much of a raging bitch she can be sometimes.


Handy Housewife Hint #001

Welcome one and all to the first official edition of The Handy Housewife. Where the handsome Helen will woo you with all the handy hints you need in order to be a happy housewife and homemaker.

 Handy Housewife Hint #001- A Handy housewife, is forever innovative.

No matter what dilemma faces The Handy Housewife, she overcomes and conquers with a steady hand.

For example, The Handy Housewife would never spill even a drop of her wine when dealing with a close to burning roast in the oven. She simply would open the hatch in the utmost of lady like manner and grab that son-of-a-bitch out with her oven mitted hand…Handy Housewife style.

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The Handy Housewife minds alcoholic wastefulness, and will avoid it at all costs.

Continuing on with The Handy Housewife’s innovation is her ability to Reduce, Reuse and Recycle…

One may think that a permeable old dish cloth that has holes larger than ones own  may need a permanent  toss in the trash…Not The Handy Housewife! The Handy Housewife, upon coming across such a dish rag begins mentally brainstorming all of the newfangled wonders that this dish rag will generate.

Paint cloth

Dolly clothes

Spit Rag (for adults)

Feces extractor from carpets

Ether inhaler

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And the list truly goes on and on.

So with that, the beloved rag will get gently placed in the ‘to-use’ bucket and forgot about until the end of time.

Now the Handy Housewife is faced with yet another dire situation. In her smooth saving shift to protect the roast from its burning state, she managed to dribble fatty meat drippings all over that darn oven door.

Boy Howdy I sure know that would make me pretty heated!

But not The Handy Housewife! With nothing but her trusty rag and bucket not to mention a big lush glass of red…

Helen has it cleaned up in a jiffy!

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Oh Helen, how did we ever get by before your innovative frolics!

Last and most definitely least in our quest to learn Helen’s innovation strategies;

The Handy Housewife will Always cry her woes into the bottom of her wine glass before going to bed.

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Because a passive aggressive housewife, isn’t a handy housewife.

Photo Credit: Imagine The image Photography

**And remember friends, The Handy Housewife will be returning every Wednesday to bring you more fun and fabulous ways to become the handy housewife you’ve always dreamed of being!

***And yet another reminder friends…Helen URGES you to Share The Blogging Mama Facebook page and or This blog with all of your non-reading Blogging Mama Friends…

Share The Mama, Save the planet.