matronly tyranny

I went on a tear with my singing group - via email, of course, which is NOT NOT NOT what I'm supposed to do (none of us are) but I was incensed and so of course violated protocol and lightly flambeed the group about moving rehearsal locations and times. You'd think a suggestion to move reherasal from 6:30 to 7, and from Fort Green to Williamsburg would be no big deal at all. Not for crazy controlling micromanaging mom of two. Not when it means having to bring home the pump from the office, so I can pump in case I miss Clayton's 10 feeding because of the fucking G train taking forever to get me home, getting home late and having zero time alone all day, and spending an extra hour of my life on the subway, instead of getting the one outdoor walk I enjoy once a week to and from rehearsal. Or if we keep it at 6:30, getting the babysitter to show up early, and missing an extra hour of my kids awake (there are a limited number of these hours in my life now). I know theoretically that requiring everything to stay the same all the time causes me pain, because it definitionally can't happen, and I won't be getting things the way I want them, and thus I'll be pissed off, and if I was more relaxed, I'd be happier with whatever happens, but frankly that's not me anytime soon. Strike that. Any time ever. And I am seething with resentment at the rest of the group who cancel rehearsals because they want to go to a concert, show up late because "there's traffic" (there's ALWAYS TRAFFIC. PLAN FOR IT), don't practice outside of reherasal, and then wonder why we sound like shit at shows. I used to think I felt this way and they didn't because I was older. Now I know it's more than that. And it's not because I'm a mom. The underlying reason is that I'm damn responsible. That's why I have kids, that's why I plan for traffic, that's why I never cancel, that's why I stress about 30 minutes, that's why I'm miserable.