The guilty me blog.

Recently at work a co-worker had a baby, to say things were not prepared for her three-month leave is an understatement on par with saying that Wookies can get a little testy.  I’ve been shipped out to our furthest location in another town on Mondays, half a day on Wednesday and every other Friday morning.  This has been rather inconvenient to me and my normal work load.  Factor in the giant stack of new patient work I’m getting from anther clinic and I’m over whelmed most days.


Yesterday I finally snapped on the women who’s filling in at the other clinic for most of the week.  I realized as I was doing it that it was more my rope snapping than anything but I couldn’t stop myself from being more than a tad snippy with her.  She’s a genuinely nice person who’s over her head with the work but I just had found the place of no return when I took a call after painstakingly telling her how something worked several times over two weeks.  I feel guilty and I’ll probably leave her a boat load of Breakfast Cookies on Monday.


I haven’t been spending enough time with Kyle and I spent too much money.  I want to eat every unhealthy food that I can find and stop working out to become a giant lazy mass of nothing on my couch.  I want a maid.


In short, I have wife/mommy guilt.  We can never do enough, save enough, love enough or clean enough to make that feeling of short coming go away.  Right now Kyle’s watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse eating breakfast while I type this out.  It’s a quiet moment in a day where I spend a good deal of time chasing a whirling dervish though my home.  I know that I should be in there with him, eating breakfast with the TV off.


I’d love it if I could close this random post off with a happy paragraph about how I’ve learned to cope and have become all touchy feely Wonder Mom and Super Wife but I doubt that person is out there.  And if she did the other mom’s will find her and force feed her sugar cookies and full sugared soda.



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