I had one of those days. The “they might come to take my kids away, and I wouldn’t be sorry. In fact, I would be willing to drop them off” days. The “I turned forty but the kids ate what career I had and I still don’t seem to be getting paid, but I’m working all the damn time” days.
I gave myself a time out. In the hallway. There may have been wine involved.
Later, when the man of my dreams showed up to rescue me, he did it with flowers and whiskey. Swoon.
Is this a cry for help? I don’t think so, but I could do without those kind of days.