Member-only story
I’m a Mother and Other People’s Kids Irritate Me
The liberating feeling of accepting the fact that kids are annoying — mine, yours and in general.
I am doing my regular weekly commute to work — an almost 3-hour train ride. It’s tedious enough that I have to commute, especially the getting up early in the morning, going out in the cold just to take the train to another city. But this is the deal I have with my client, and they pay me enough not to complain too much.
The train ride is usually quite smooth and undisturbed, I can even benefit from the fact that I have nothing else to do but work. So I have 5 hours of pure work-time, 2.5 there and another 2.5 back. I am quite productive; that’s when I write, that’s when I create my strategic presentations or social media posts for my other clients. Or in some rare cases, I just sit back and let the train rock me to a light nap.
But this morning is different and I need everything I have in me not to have an anxiety attack.
The train is different; it’s not the regular open-air train but it has compartments, where 6 people sit together — almost on top of each other. There is not enough oxygen and I feel the small space closing on me. Moreover, the family who enters the compartment I am sitting in is a mother with a little boy…
