**Click to see larger. It's worth it.**My husband's job that is. Oh, and my husband's illness.
**Disclaimer: This post is meant to neither impugn my wonderful, hot, hardworking husband
or his job. Seriously. It's meant to merely complain.**
My hubby doesn't read my blog anyway. :)
So here's how it goes down.
6:00 a.m. Hubby's alarm sounds. No bother, it's the kind that simulates the altogether soothing sound of church bells. Oh, and it commences softly, like your sweet Mama's voice on Monday mornin' when it's time for school. And he turns it off before it gets obnoxious.
by 7 a.m. One of my darling kids decides it's the perfect time to meet the day. Or at least to jump in bed with yours truly. Zion is particularly endearing and well, interested. In cuddling with me that is.
7:30 a.m. We make a choice. Breakfast at the coffee table? Insert watching child's brain turn to a watery pulp as they watch the boob tube. Why do they call it that? -OR- Breakfast at the table with charming morning banter about nightime dreams and plans for the day. I'm ashamed to say it's usually the making and loathing of watery pulp.
9:30 a.m. Do we play? Do we hit Target? I'm sure we need
something. Oh yes, we go to the Pool. My kids are in heaven and well, so am I.
12 noon Lunch at home or at the pool.
12:45 p.m. Quiet Time & Nap for the kids while I enjoy a little bill paying, virtual-internet swashbuckling, or some good ol' fashioned R&R. For the record, the swashbuckling consists mainly of mommy blogs, facebook and email. It's really not that adventurous. It would be more accurately described as virtual-internet slothful relaxation. Or downtime.
1:45 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.
1:47 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.
1:49 p.m. Jersey is asking if her Quiet Time can be over.
1:49 p.m. I let her get up. We get a treat and find a nice spot to play Polly Pockets or American Girl or baby dolls. Polly Pockets is
my her my current favorite. We play and pretend and teach our Polly Pockets to think of others before themselves. It's really quite charming.
3:00 p.m. Zion wakes up and joins the fun, only we add farm animals, cars, trucks, motorcycles and baseballs. Polly Pocket takes leisurely rides on said farm animals and car crash after car crash after car crash ensues. On the coffee table. Off the coffee table. Aaaaaaaand we do it again. This is actually one of the most wonderful things to do with him. He's pretty much de-lish.
4:00 p.m. Oprah? This is a recent thing. I keep telling myself I'm on vacation and it's okay.
5:00 p.m. Storytime on the couch. Some days yes, some days no. But only by lack of remembering.
5:45 p.m. I should start dinner. Then again Brian hasn't been getting home until...
6:00 p.m. I've forgotten about dinner.
6:15 p.m. Remember dinner but realize it's too late to make anything meaningful. I'm thinking Brian will be home any second and maybe something magical will happen like he'll walk through the door with Papa John's. Afterall, I'm on vacation.
6:30 p.m. I'm forgetting that my kids need to eat so they can go to bed, but the fact that Brian isn't home is tricking my mind into thinking it's 5:00.
7:00 p.m. Brian walks through the door with Papa John's. We eat, we play, the kids are in heaven with Daddy home.
8:00 p.m. (unless they're having a particularly good time, then it's more like 8:45... errr... even 9:00) Kid's Bedtime. Brian takes Jers. I take Zion.
8:30 p.m. Yes! Time with my man. Maybe we can have an invigorating metadiscourse about world peace and spending money on high-end shoes. Oh yeah, he's sick. Bummer. I guess it's hard core analysis of market segmentation as it relates to Cheer, Era, and Dreft. Usually Dreft. I actually happen to dig this topic.
10:00 p.m. Talk of bedtime drags me down. I'm feeling spent and lonely and desperate for some real time with Brian, other Moms. Mostly Brian.
Can anyone relate? Do you see all the loveliness of my day or did I centralize too much on the negative? I'm actually quite happy and content with my life. I actually
love my life. But as much as my kids fill me up with joy and love and laughter and peace, they also drain me. And that's not a criticism or an admission of their high-maintenance-ness. It's just the truth for all Kid-Parent relationships. Anyway, can anyone relate? Oh, and did this sound contrived? Seriously.
