It’s been one of those weeks that makes me think that I should have studied a lot harder for the foreign service exam. Or at least I should have taken it a second time. Because then I’d be following my chosen path of glamorous international foreign service agent or chargé d’affaires in Switzerland, Namibia, Argentina, or Malaysia.
If that were the case, I’d be at some swanky cocktail party at the Australian Embassy instead of here listening to my kids have a hissy fit when I say no to a sleepover, tell me that I’m stupid, that they hate living here, that I’m never nice to them, that they never get to do anything they want, or that they’re going to “break my stuff” if I don’t get them ice cream for lunch.
I’d be discussing Sino-American relations in the wake of North Korea’s failed rocket test instead of mediating a dispute over who’s had the Nintendo DSi longer, whether to watch Bubble Guppies or baseball, who got more french fries, or whose turn it is to let the dog outside.
I’d be blissfully unattached and free to take moonlight strolls along the river with a uniformed Naval attaché instead of having husband who can only stand listening to fighting, screaming, wild children for five minutes before he loses it, ask me what it is that I “do” all day, after I’ve dealt with the same fighting, screaming, wild children for the last ten hours.
Anyway. Back to reality. Alex just said he wants to snuggle. I guess things could be worse.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2012