I quit my job. Well, I gave them my two weeks notice. I thought I would have this feeling of complete elated liberation. But it was really hard. When I told my boss I had some bad news for him, his fight or flight instinct started to kick in, and then a look of panic spread across his face as I explained to him what my situation was. This would be the second time I’ve had to quit a job I love, for the good of the collective. Sometimes being a mom can feel like being Borg; not even a hot and sexy Seven-of-nine Borg, an ugly part-of-the-collective Borg Drone.
|Hot and sexy, not part of the collective Seven-of-Nine.|
|Me. Borg Drone.|
Grumpy + Mom = Grumpy household
However, putting the kids to bed is an awful lot like being the Borg queen, “Resistance is futile” and she is a somewhat sexy Borg… but only after her head has attached to her body, the floating head thing is a bit creeping if you ask me.
*well maybe not, Mr. R is really good at stepping in when I need a bath, pedicure, and some "me" time.