I Am Borg.

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.

It seems that every decision that is made as a mother is weighted by how it effects everyone else in the family.  The question "What should I do today?" will greatly determine the outcome of EVERYONE ELSE'S DAY.  Should I go grocery shopping or watch tv? Clean house or paint my nails? Take a long luxurious bath or a short shower and do a quick load of laundry? When making decisions strictly based on my stress level we generally have no food and piles of dirty clothes.  If it weren't for SLAVERY SATURDAY we would be living in filth...*

Me. Borg Drone.

Even deciding to take a day off of being cheerful will effect the mood of the house. Here's some math to prove my point: 

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. 

Borg Queen. 

*well maybe not, Mr. R is really good at stepping in when I need a bath, pedicure, and some "me" time.