Week of Money: Where Little Bun turns into a night monster
??:?? — I wake up. Reluctantly. It is just before six a.m. and I could have used another half hour.
6:00 a.m. — I start a load of laundry — Little Bun bled all over the sheets yesterday, and then I hop into the shower. I normally don’t like showers in the morning because then my hair is wet all day and all morning, and then I feel COLD all day. I don’t own a hairdryer yet because as I mentioned before, I am waiting for the Dyson Airwrap, but ON SALE at least 20% off, and I will use the mini hairdryer that comes with that, to dry my hair for these rare occasions….
6:30 a.m. — Call starts. Yes, I have very early morning conference calls.
8:17 a.m. — Call over…
9:45 a.m. — Another call.
10:31 a.m. — I make a third cup of Coconut Oolong tea and eat some toasted cornbread sticks with it my partner made last night.
12:13 p.m. — Time for Little Bun to have a nap. He goes down unwillingly but I tell him he HAS TO NAP or else he cannot stay at home nay more.
12:35 p.m. — What a stupid f-ing “joke” of an Instagram post. I wrote a whole rant out of it because it bothered me the entire day and I couldn’t pin down why until much later.
2:58 p.m. — F@#*& this job is stressful sometimes. I spend the last 2 hours crafting this email with research and notes before sending it out. Then I sit on it because I can’t send it without this Director’s approval, and he is …. for lack of a better word, not really adequate or qualified for his job.
4:12 p.m. — I head home. I’m mentally spent.
8:25 p.m. — Time for bed. I don’t even effin’ know what I did.
??:?? — I wake up, get dressed in a sunny yellow dress because I have a feeling I’ll need it, and head into work.
9:25 a.m. — Yep. All the #%(# hit the fan. I end up almost half screaming at a Director (stubborn #%(& ) and my manager has to step in and basically buffer between me and him because this guy knows nothing about the industry he is working in, and yet he is in charge of us all. So when we say something he is confused as to why it is so difficult. If he did our jobs, he would KNOW why it was so #%#&(ing difficult and why he cannot just say: That is not our problem that is theirs, let them sort it out.
11:37 a.m. — I go and treat myself to a fancy takeout lunch of chicken curry and some mushroom & walnut soup. $20
2:21 p.m. — I try to take deep breaths to calm down and then I just try to do my best before heading home. This was a real #%(*&% terrible day for me. I love my job. I really do. I love what I do, I love the people (generally) I work with, but I really don’t like the people who are managing me because they have never done what I have done, so they tend to be completely out of touch and then bullheaded, thinking that they can just say things like: Make it happen, and by magic it all happens. Are you kidding me?
4:43 p.m. — At home, Little Bun barrels into my arms, squealing happily. I am laden down with packages, and the doormen were all telling me how NO ONE receives more packages than me (LOL), so I vow to buy little gift cards to thank them. We had been cycling through a lot of doormen throughout the months, so I never bought anything because they aren’t guys who will stay. These guys however, seem like permanent employees, so I decide to give a nice gesture of goodwill, along with learning their names.
7:57 p.m. — Little Bun and I play, but I am just worn out from today. Emotionally drained. So he cracks my patience when he starts LOSING HIS #%(#&% for the 20th time. I was patient the other 19 times, soothing him, hugging him, listening to him, and playing with him, but it comes down to bedtime and he is refusing to sleep unless I flip the blanket with him and his stuffed toy AGAIN, and I … just…. lose… my…. #@*%#)%*#@@
8:25 p.m. — The next 20 minutes are him screaming and crying. I finally reach over, wipe his tears, hug him, after I am as calm as I am ever going to get, and hug him close.
8:30 p.m. — I hold him against my chest like a baby, and I explain very softly that Mommy is very tired. Mommy has her limits. Mommy did everything you wanted and said “Yes” to everything but you have to let Mommies say “No” sometimes. Mommies need to be allowed to say “No” and to not have their Babies get angry at them and always get their way because Mommies reach their limits and then are very very tired and angry with everything that is going on. I tell him he has to give me a break, and I love him, but I cannot always say “Yes” to him. He snuggles closer to me, and bursts into intermittent tears, and I just hold him for a good 20 minutes until he seems sleepy enough and he puts a pillow on my chest, and tries to sleep on me, and then just uses my stomach as a pillow as he curls up around me. I wrap my arm around him and gently stroke his hair.
8:44 p.m. — I hate losing my temper like this. But.. he really cracked me tonight. I was already drained and then I gave him all I had and what I had in reserve but then it all ran empty from the day I had.
??:?? — I wake up not tired but not super well rested. I slept on my back but for some reason find sleeping on my side far more comfortableů maybe I need to go back to get another deep tissue massage to loosen up my tense shoulder muscles. I am certain that I am all crunched because of the stress at work. Long story short, what I said would happen, came to pass. No one listened to me, they just wanted to hit their targets and skipped a lot of important things, so…. there you go.
6:01 a.m. — I get up, make a tea, decide I will wear my cashmere-wool (with a silk lining!) Armani Collezione pants I got secondhand for only $90, in a nice winter white. They’re GORGEOUS. I am certain they sold at least at $500 USD if not up to $2000 for these pants, they’re really luxurious.
6:14 a.m. — Little Bun is just.. cranky. He was cranky all yesterday, he is crunchy today… he whines at the littlest things, I am being super patient but he pushes me to my limit and then I snap.
6:26 a.m. — He hassles his father and gets creamy cheese pasta for breakfast. Go figure. LOL…. he must have been dreaming about it all night.
7:12 a.m. — I grab my contribution to the potluck (expensive cheese) and artisanal crackers and head into work.
9:29 a.m. — Lots of back and forth, lots of misunderstandings and my getting frustrated because what is the point of hiring a professional expert like myself if you aren’t going to trust me and listen to me? Then you turn around and scream at me and ask me why it went wrong? YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY F#%(ING ADVICE. THAT IS WHY. They always know better. ALWAYS.
11:03 a.m. — I try to tamp down on the fires, and then head up early to prep the meals for lunch. Some people are there so I help them stuff their eggs, do their sandwiches…
11:45 a.m. — MMMM POTLUCK. I attack the dishes I know are good (made by good chefs / friends), and then attack the homemade desserts.
1:15 p.m. — After lunch, we’re all full and happy. I help clean up, then back to work.
2:18 p.m. — My family receives my Christmas cards and are so pleased. It is amazing how a little card can make someone so happy, and this is why I send one yearly, to show that I am still connected to them even if we don’t talk or had problems in the past, and that is all water under the bridge now.
4:08 p.m. — Oh. Great. So NOW you email back after THREE WEEKS OF US HASSLING YOU? …. Eye roll.
4:36 p.m. — Lots of packages coming in, my email box is blowing up with delivered packages. The downstairs guys ALL KNOW ME because of what I receive in the mail, and I make a note to go and buy a whackload of Tim Horton’s gift cards and to create little Christmas cards to thank them for being so good
4:45 p.m. — Almost time to go home. I tape up a return, and then head out to the post office and to buy those gift cards…
5:25 p.m. — 4 gift cards at $15 each and a box of chocolates. $79.28
6:40 p.m. — A billion packages. I pick them all up and head upstairs.
8:13 p.m. — Stomach is not feeling well. I think the mayonnaise at lunch is not settling in well. SHOULD NOT have eaten that….
??:?? — It is EARLY. Little Bun is squealing for milk. I blearily grab it for him and then force him back down for another nap which usually NEVER works but he must have heard the desperation in my voice because he conks back out to sleep after his milk.
6:02 a.m. — Up for real now. I feel very tired. He got me right in the middle of my REM cycle so I am still dizzy and fatigued. Gat damn.
6:04 a.m. — I log in and start working.
6:25 a.m. — Tea time while on my first conference call.
7:59 a.m. — Second conference call.
10:05 a.m. — Mentally drained. WHO DOES THIS. I am working like crazy, and trying to get management to call the $(*@ down. Now they’re all on my side, and now they’ve all realized that I was right and now I’m going to be saddled with fixing this in a rush when they spent a week arguing with me on it. What a waste of time.
12:22 p.m. — Food. I eat a Poke Bowl instead.
4:15 p.m. — Worked nonstop. I am sure I fed Little Bun in there somewhere. And I think I may have also gotten him down for a nap. Literally a blur, this day. I log off, and go to transfer returns back into my car, and drop off a gift to the doormen downstairs. Little Bun, when he wears normal clothes and not jammies, looks incredibly handsome and cute. The guy working the desk downstairs is touched.
4:20 p.m. — I drop off a gift to his friend in the building too.
5:30 p.m. — His friend and mother come by with a gift — they had already baked cookies for the gift, and Little Bun squeals happily. Then runs away, rude AF to go and watch his panda cartoons while I chat with the mother in the hallway, and his friend stands there, mute…. (this kid doesn’t talk much and is shy around me).
6:17 p.m. — Mmmmmm shortbread cookies. I love Pinterest moms. <3
5:30 p.m. — Time for bed.
8:11 p.m. — Little Bun suddenly turns feral. Starts screaming, kicking, losing his #%*#%) about having to go to sleep. FULL ON FERAL WILD CHILD. I can’t even calm him down. He just started screaming out of nowhere about hating to nap and sleep. I try and cuddle him close but he gets angrier and angrier..
8:48 p.m. — Finally get him down after I make him giggle and do some blanket flipping with his stuffed toy. Why do children hate to sleep? Uarrrrghhhh. The better question is why do kids hate their parents sleeping? 🙁
5:55 a.m. — Up early. Don’t feel like going in. I stay home and send an email.
12:15 p.m. — I actually.. did not stop working until now. FULL BLAST working. I had to ignore Little Bun, tell him to leave me alone and play by himself, my partner took him away a few times to entertain him (he’s at home working too), and I’m getting more and more frustrated and stressed trying to get it all done. I work like crazy, full cylinders all blasting off….
12:31 p.m. — Break for lunch. I eat my cheesy pasta in peace.
12:49 p.m. — Little Bun whines that he wants both Mommy AND DADDY to nap with him. We both lie down, I am reading my book while my partner is there, and then we both get up after he is fast asleep. I snuggle a big pillow against his body and let it block out a bit of light, casting a shadow to make it feel like he is snuggling beside someone and will sleep longer. This is a trick I used to play on my mother when she made me nap with her. I would wait until she slept, then slide a big pillow under her arms, and then sneak out of the room to play in peace. She would wake up hugging a pillow, delighted with my cleverness (the first time) at having tricked her.
2:09 p.m. — This day will never end. I’m back to work full blast.
2:34 p.m. — Another call. I take it, but halfway through Little Bun loses his #%(* when he realizes I am not around, and when he tries to get to me, my partner holds him back but he just gets angrier.
2:34 p.m. — Now I am mad as hell. I have to finish this before a deadline at 4 and Little Bun is LOSING HIS #%(*#%… He won’t let me finish, he is screaming, crying…. he won’t sit and play nicely, no one is HELPING ME. I am swearing up a blue storm, screaming, I get dressed, grab my laptop and am ready to just leave and go into the lobby to work off a hotspot connection just to get this done.
3:04 p.m. — He finally calms down when he sees I am about to leave FOR REAL (I have done it before at least twice so he knows I am for real). He sits quietly beside me, sobbing, pink-faced while I work. He is terrible when he gets like this. It’s partly why I dread working at home too…
3:21 p.m. — Another call. I have him in my arms, and I am trying to talk but he starts crying on the phone. I give me partner a look and he hauls him off, kicking and screaming to the bedroom. I am trying to work while he is crying and screaming trying to get to me. LOSING IT. Like I can’t even hear the guy on the phone, I am plugging my ears to get the conversation.
3:38 p.m. — My partner finally gets him to giggle and laugh, and they start playing together. GOOD. FINALLY. FINALLY HE IS STEPPING UP. He saw the look in my face and hear the swearing I was doing before, so he knew I was really at my f*#(ing limit. I can’t stay and work at home if it is going to be like this. HE KNOWS IT. And my partner really likes me staying at home with Little Bun while working (he thinks going to the office is a waste of time), so he is also trying to make it be less stressful so I don’t just tell him — enough of this, he goes back to preschool if he can’t behave himself at home.
4:24 p.m. — End of work day. My partner goes out to run errands. I breathe and let Little Bun watch videos, and I eat gummies.
4:59 p.m. — I was going to make noodles but then saw that my partner is going to make chicken wings, so I dump the water out.
5:12 p.m. — I finish all the dishes instead, and dry them all down.
6:43 p.m. — My partner comes home and I go to play with Little Bun.
8:25 p.m. — Little-One-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is causing a ruckus and refusing to sleep. #*#%)# ….. I look at my partner and tell him: I can’t do this again.
??:?? — I wake up. Exhausted. I grab his milk, my partner is already up and cooking, and I plonk back down into bed trying to sleep and rest. I am dead.
5:56 a.m. — I make a cup of tea, and then my partner squeezes fresh orange juice and makes us croissants.
7:59 a.m. — I play with Little Bun as much as I can. Maybe he misses me. I don’t know. I ask him, and he responds back that he wants Mommy to play all day, but I tell him that Mommy is a Work Mommy, a House Mommy and that I have other things to do. Plus I need time to myself too, I tell him.
8:08 a.m. — I organize out my closet. I need to figure out how to get more space out of this because I can see I am wasting a lot of room. I am keeping old things I shouldn’t, and why am I still hanging on to all of this CARDBOARD and packing sleeves? UGH. I have to start tossing this stuff, even if I think packing paper or this stuff will be useful one day when I sell things on eBay. Or maybe I can find somewhere else in the house for this, as in NOT IN MY CLOSET.
12:08 p.m. — Oh. Old halloween costumes. Mine was BRILLIANT but I will never wear it again. Or will I? I feel like it is just a good idea to keep at least ONE witty, charming, slick Halloween costume for that occasion where you are invited to a party or something like that, and you can bust it out. Or not. What say you?
12:15 p.m. — Time to eat.
12:23 p.m. — I head out for the day. I start with returns.
2:30 p.m. — I decide to go thrifting instead and have a whole afternoon browsing racks happily. Next time I am coming prepared with headphones, wet wipes, and a huge bag to hold my things off the ground as I am changing.
4:47 p.m. — I come home .. it was INSANE. SO MANY PEOPLE… it is crazy. And ridiculous how much SHOPPING there was. This is really at terrible time of the year.
7:18 p.m. — Little Bun is just a freakin’…. freakin’….. MONSTER. He loses it. I can’t calm him down, and every piercing shriek brings me closer and closer until I lose my #%(#%#%… and then .. everything hits the fan. EVERYTHING.
7:40 p.m. — STILL SCREAMING. I am feeling all the hairs on my head turn white, I SWEAR TO #%)#%)#…
8:22 p.m. — Finally calm. We’re both calm. He is crying, and repeating over and over again: HAPPY SAD. HAPPY SAD. HAPPY SAD. As in.. when Little Bun is sad, Mommy has to be happy. I can’t be happy, but he doesn’t get it. He drives me to the edge of reason.
8:25 p.m. — My partner calls out that there are fireworks. I slump down on the bed exhausted, and he runs out of the room, but then comes back and says: Mommy. You come too. I want Mommy to come too… …. how can you say no? He is a monster and an angel. We go out to the living room, I hold him against my chest (residual crying is still happening), and we comment and oooh and aaaah over the fireworks together.
8:50 p.m. — Bedtime. I tell him it is time to clean up and go to sleep, and he protests a little, but I give him a look and tell him: Mommy is not doing this again. … and he quietly helps me put everything away.
9:11 p.m. — Two books later, and sleep. It could not have come any sooner.
??:?? — I wake up tired. Really tired.
6:40 a.m. — Time for a tea. Another croissant and orange juice.
7:14 a.m. — I make another tea. I play with Little Bun.
8:08 a.m. — I clean up and organize, play around, wash all the cashmere I have and hang it up to dry.
12:08 p.m. — Time for lunch. My partner made a fried rice but it isn’t like real Chinese food and it’s not what I want. I can’t finish it, so I don’t.
12:21 p.m. — Little Bun goes down for a nap. He doesn’t even protest. I created a little napping nest for him and he snuggles into it, and is pleased… He actually falls asleep, and my partner heads out after his short nap.
2:06 p.m. — I log in and start working a little. I’m nervous about everything and I want it all tied up with a bow.
3:15 p.m. — Little Bun wakes up soaked in sweat, I guess he got too hot under the covers. I quickly strip him to cool him down, and realize we don’t have any milk. OMG… I run to the bedroom where he is all tucked up and ready for some milk, and I quickly ask him if it is okay he doesn’t drink his milk today, and he nods. I give him a huge hug (relieved)… and kiss him. I had no idea how this would turn out because ever since he was a baby, milk has been his THING. I offer him some of the milk Mommy uses, and he refuses.
3:37 p.m. — My partner comes home with milk and fills up a bottle for him.
4:49 p.m. — I finish washing, cleaning and drying all the dishes….. while watching Mrs. Maisel Season 2…and I love it. This is SUCH A WELL WRITTEN, witty comedy drama. Full of feminist overtones and so much style eye-candy I can’t stand it.
5:26 p.m. — Little Bun plays with his new app that teaches him coding with cars, and I lie down and read a book. My brain is running a mile a minute.
8:11 p.m. — Time for bed. He cries when the light goes out and begs for two books, so I snap the light back on and read to him, then we go to sleep, with him wiggling around like some crazy caterpillar on top of me, over me, under my legs… before he finally falls asleep.
Want more? Read all of my previous Week of Money Diaries.