The Wrath of Mom

I continue to have some pretty intense anger issues.  No one is exempt except for my kid.  It’s not that I’m running around like someone with Tourette’s Syndrome, unable to control what comes out of my mouth (usually); inside my head it’s like a Denis Leary show (the old Denis Leary, before he became kinder and nicer).  It’s more an issue of I can’t control my delivery.

My good friend (who happens to be my boss) and I were off to sample a groundwater well the other day.  Fist thing in the morning I accused him of hovering and stressing me out.  I think I scared him and I felt terrible.  Later that day, we stopped for lunch at a Japanese place.  Seated across from us were 2 gentlemen having a discussion about investments.  They were a bit loud and obnoxious but what kept drawing my attention was one guy’s blazer.  This thing was a plaid abomination.  It had no place in this world outside of a late 1970’s-early 1980’s home movie.  It was so bad I automatically checked to see if he had a wedding ring on, figuring that as a wife myself, I’d demand that Will immediate put something else on before leaving the house and stop by the landfill to dispose of that jacket on his way to the closet.  Sure enough, there was a gold band on the correct finger. 

All through the meal, I couldn’t stop looking at that horrible horrible jacket.  As we left the restaurant I said to my friend that surely this guy’s wife must not love him, allowing him to leave the house like that.  Now granted, I didn’t say that to the man or even within earshot.  But it was mean and uncalled for.  Maybe his wife is visually impaired.  Maybe she’s an ER doctor, working the night shift and not available to edit her husband’s attire in the morning.

I can’t stand listening to all the armchair punditry on Facebook (worse than usual).  This week, everyone seems obsessed with that idiot congressman’s statement about “legitimate” rape.  Ok.  He said something unbelievably stupid.  It happens daily and loads of people are guilty of it.  We’ve acknowledged it was stupid and ill-informed.  Can’t we let it go, damn it?  Does this deserve a week’s worth of attention?  I suppose I should be grateful at least people have shut the hell up about Chick-Fil-A.  It just makes me so damn angry, all of this self-righteous bitching (as I self-righteously bitch).

Lately when speaking with my mother or Will, I get incensed if they interrupt me when I’m speaking.  Sure, that’s bad form anyway, but we all know when you’re talking with a very close relation and everyone gets excited and animated, it happens.  Now, I find myself hollering over them through gritted teeth. 

I’m getting on my nerves.  I fully intend to ask my doctor about this at my next visit.  I’m hoping there’s some kind of medication I can take.  If not, I may have to quarantine myself and just call in angry from work for the next few weeks/months.


About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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One Response to The Wrath of Mom

  1. Sorry about your anger issues. I can definitely relate. Oh the joys of being a woman, capable of giving birth to a beautiful baby, yet also capable of intense mental darkness due to hormones. >_>

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