Girl, you’re not alone if having a bitch moment isn’t just an attitude… it’s a freakin result!!  A result of all the things, as women, we juggle everyday with more items on our TO DO list than minutes in a day.  I’m single with no children.  I struggle with just my sole commitments.  I faint at the thought of throwing a husband and children into that mix………………… okay, sorry, I just did it…. I fainted. I’m still on the floor… I’m typing from the floor with one hand because I can’t get up from the thought of adding other people to my plate…. wait… I fainted again. Please call 911 and send a hot EMT with a bottle of vodka.

I don’t know how you mothers do it!!  Red boots and invisible planes for all of you Wonder Women!! I actually have a Lasso of Truth and gold bracelets in transit to a fellow GYNA gal, Johanna. After a 15-hour day of hell, she sent the below post. I love the phrase she used, “Bitch Holiday.” Hang in there, Johanna and by all means, get your bitch on… but make sure you’re wearing stilettos!

Why is it that when you’re in a bad mood, people ask, “whats’ wrong?” or “is everything okay?” I mean, if you are in a bad mood, doesn’t that tell you that “something” is wrong or that “No, everything is not okay?”  Why can’t I just be in a bad mood, just to be in a bad mood? Maybe, I just want to be cranky and bitchy, or maybe, I just woke up not wanting to put up with shit.

Let’s see, got up at 6am, I rush take a shower and wake up the baby. I then feed, change him and go straight to daycare. I rush again, try to beat traffic on the I-495 only to inch my way to work.  While I’m inching my way to work, my company cell phone rings, one of my staff called out last minute.  Phone rings again, my boss looking for paperwork I submitted 5 days ago. 10am – walk into my office and rush to grab a cup of coffee, only to find there is no coffee. Why couldn’t the last person that made coffee, get some more coffee!!

11:30am - reviewing reports while answering calls when, I pull out my pen from my bag only to find a liquidity jelly-like substance on my hand and oh, now on my shirt. The pen exploded. WTF! Whatever! I then go for a break with my left-eye twitching from coffee withdrawals. I drive up to 7-11 to grab some coffee and a sandwich, “15 minutes miss, coffee coming fresh” My first thought, “give me a shot of whiskey instead, please.”  After I finally grab coffee, my husband, Lou, calls to ask about my day…… he really wanted to know if I was making something for dinner.  Since I am a good dutiful wife, I always have last minute dinners for those hectic days. Tonight, ham and cheese sandwiches, potato chips and  kool-aid.

Back to work, my boss calling again for paperwork, which again, I submitted a week ago.  “Please fax them again” he says.  “Sure”, I respond.  Fax machine “Out of Order.”  Okay, thats’ it!! UGH!! I’m back in my car, driving him another copy of the report I already submitted.   I get there, and he says, “Oh, thanks, but I found them.”  WTF? “Is everything okay?” he asks, I’m sure I appeared a little agitated. I leave, back in my car and into traffic.

My phone rings, daycare is calling. Tired and hungry, as I still didn’t eat the chicken sandwich snuggled in my bag, I’m now rushing to pick up Franco from daycare as he is not feeling well. I pick him up, he is crying. I put him in his car seat and I call Lou and his doctor. Finally, I see Lou waiting for me as I pull up to his pediatrician’s office. He takes the baby out the car, he is still crying, and hands him over to me so he can get his diaper bag. I hear gurgling sounds and feel some hot liquid on my breasts.  Okay, where is the liquor store!!!! I now have vomit in between my breast and I smell like a rotting mouse. I go into the my pediatrician’s office when I see eyes of disgust on me. Like these people have never had vomit on them before!  I try to clean myself up with little resources then wait in the waiting area. “What’s wrong?” Lou whispers.  I just take a deep breath and blankly stare at him. 6:30pm – Franco is fine, just a stomach bug. Give him liquids, liquids and oh, more liquids.

Finally, home and I see the mess, boxes and crap everywhere. We are moving next week.  I shower and pop a bottle of apple juice in Franco’s mouth. Next, Sandwiches and potato chips for Lou. I now begin to pack boxes. Lou helps but, takes a lot of breaks in between. 9pm – exhausted. I finish the last of the boxes only to find, that I need more boxes. I go into the bedroom to see if Lou is finished but, find him and Franco are asleep.

So, now I sit here writing this post, wondering why people question our mood, our “bitchiness,” as if they didn’t know!  Most likely we are bitchy because we are tired, sleep deprived and overwhelmed. We get up, and as women, mothers, wives, run around all day to make sure everything and everyone is taken care of.  Are we not allowed to have a bitch fest here and there? Are we not allowed to roll our eyes, grunt, yell, scream or take a stiff drink when the situation calls for it?

Tonight, right now, I embrace my bitchy side. So, on those days I don’t feel like enduring all of this, well, that is my Bitch Holiday.  I’m entitled to be a “bitch” when I want to!

This story is from a fellow blogger, Charmaine, http://randalswife.blogspot.com/

If you’re a mom, you will totally relate and laugh.  If you’re childless like me, you will still snort wine out your nose with laughter…. then wonder if you could handle kids…

Picture, if you will… I am at Wal-Mart with my two boys, 4 year old Israel and nearly 1 year old Elijah. Elijah is buckled in the cart because I really don’t need a head trauma right now and Israel is running up and down the aisles because this is Wal-Mart and I’m running low on shame. About halfway through shopping Israel tells me he has to go “poo-poo on the potty.” So I take him to the back of the store and he tells me he doesn’t have to go anymore. After checking and asking a couple of times, I determine he really doesn’t have to go anymore and I finish shopping. As I’m standing in line, Israel starts again, “Mama, I have to go poo-poo on the potty.”

To which I reply, “Ok, we’re checking out right now and then I’m going to pay for our groceries and then we’ll go to the bathroom. Can you hold it for a little while?”

Israel, “Ok.”

Well, this happens a couple of more times and I finally point out the bathroom and tell him that it’s right there and we are almost done. After I pay for the groceries we are going to run over there together and go potty. He walks up the the front and says, “That bathroom right there?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” I answer as I hear the cashier gasp. I turn around and discover Elijah Houdini has escaped the buckle and is standing up now. So while I’m bucking him back in, the cashier points out that Israel is running to the bathrooms. I turn around just in time to see him run into the men’s room.

Great. What am I supposed to do? Please don’t judge me. I just stayed with Elijah and the cart and kept my eye on the bathrooms and hoped that the cashier would be fast enough that I could get over before the inevitable happened. She wasn’t. As I’m wrestling with Elijah, I hear a sweet mom voice saying, “Where’s your mommy?”

Please, don’t let it be me. I turn around to see my 4 year-old son standing outside the bathrooms with his pants around his ankles asking for someone to wipe his bottom. Pants around ankles. Luckily the little guy is pretty well-endowed, but I really don’t want to encourage exhibitionism.

Words cannot describe how I felt though.

So I turn around to the cashier who was a very sweet older lady and seemed to understand the situation. Luckily there was no one in line behind me so I just left the cart, my purse, and my baby to run and get Israel. I took him into the women’s room and wiped him and told him to wash his hands and come back out – I had to go get everything else.

It was a walk of shame going back out of the bathroom, past the mom with 3 young girls who was asking who Israel’s mommy was, past the young couple sitting outside the bathrooms and past all the other random people at Super Wal-Mart on a Saturday and back to the cashier and my other son and waiting groceries.

I made it out with both sons and all my groceries, but all my pride was left behind.