It's not rocket science, Maven.
I haven't had a weekend to myself in 9.5 years. In that time I've had one night away by myself and one with my husband, which, incidentally, was our honeymoon.
So one might think that if a stay-at-home-mom were given a golden opportunity because, say, her amazing husband has decided to take the children on a camping trip, that she might, oh, I don't know, be incredibly happy and excited?
It's not like I'm not happy and excited and in freaking AWE of my husband's bravery. It's just that, intermingled with the delighted state I'm in, there lurks this awful thing called worry. I can't help it; I've been their primary caregiver for their entire lives. Now I'm supposed to just hand them over to Geekster and trust that he's going to keep them safe from rabid bears and angry mountain men? What about alien abduction? Our area is a UFO hotspot, you know. It's entirely possible that grey men with big bug eyes might want to experiment on my children to find out how they can be so destructive. Weapons of war in cute little packages.
I can fill up my days, but what am I going to do about my nights? I might suffocate my 10lb dog in my sleep if I try to cuddle her. The cats only like to cuddle when they're out of food, so maybe I could stop feeding them tonight and get some companionship by... Saturday? It's a possibility. I'll stick 'starve house cats' on my 'maybe' list.
I plan to rent at least one romantic comedy. Something Geekster would never, ever watch. Something that will make me cry, too. I can bawl my hormonal eyes out and nobody would be the wiser. This weekend is sounding better and better...
The gremlins are very excited. They 'helped' dad pack up the car today. It took about three times longer than it would have had they not been feeling helpful.
In other news, I found my pregnancy panties. They were buried in some to-do laundry downstairs I hadn't gotten around to yet. I don't know if I'm happy about the discovery or not. I doubt they'll look any more flattering now than they did 10 days ago. Besides, who's going to see them? My long list of lovers lining up around the corner, waiting for my spouse and children to leave? I've always maintained that I would prostitute myself before ever operating a daycare again, but now's not the time.
There isn't a day that goes by when I don't wake up and think 'Wow! I'm not doing daycare anymore!' It's been about four weeks and the novelty hasn't worn off. I love not having to shower and get dressed right away, cram some breakfast down my throat, tidy up a bit and open the door with a big, fake grin when people drop their children off.
I loved the kids. I really did. But I don't miss the job in the slightest. Sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. Now that it's gone, I know I had a god awful job.
I like how I can see beauty in everything around me.
I haven't had a weekend to myself in 9.5 years. In that time I've had one night away by myself and one with my husband, which, incidentally, was our honeymoon.
So one might think that if a stay-at-home-mom were given a golden opportunity because, say, her amazing husband has decided to take the children on a camping trip, that she might, oh, I don't know, be incredibly happy and excited?
It's not like I'm not happy and excited and in freaking AWE of my husband's bravery. It's just that, intermingled with the delighted state I'm in, there lurks this awful thing called worry. I can't help it; I've been their primary caregiver for their entire lives. Now I'm supposed to just hand them over to Geekster and trust that he's going to keep them safe from rabid bears and angry mountain men? What about alien abduction? Our area is a UFO hotspot, you know. It's entirely possible that grey men with big bug eyes might want to experiment on my children to find out how they can be so destructive. Weapons of war in cute little packages.
I can fill up my days, but what am I going to do about my nights? I might suffocate my 10lb dog in my sleep if I try to cuddle her. The cats only like to cuddle when they're out of food, so maybe I could stop feeding them tonight and get some companionship by... Saturday? It's a possibility. I'll stick 'starve house cats' on my 'maybe' list.
I plan to rent at least one romantic comedy. Something Geekster would never, ever watch. Something that will make me cry, too. I can bawl my hormonal eyes out and nobody would be the wiser. This weekend is sounding better and better...
The gremlins are very excited. They 'helped' dad pack up the car today. It took about three times longer than it would have had they not been feeling helpful.
In other news, I found my pregnancy panties. They were buried in some to-do laundry downstairs I hadn't gotten around to yet. I don't know if I'm happy about the discovery or not. I doubt they'll look any more flattering now than they did 10 days ago. Besides, who's going to see them? My long list of lovers lining up around the corner, waiting for my spouse and children to leave? I've always maintained that I would prostitute myself before ever operating a daycare again, but now's not the time.
There isn't a day that goes by when I don't wake up and think 'Wow! I'm not doing daycare anymore!' It's been about four weeks and the novelty hasn't worn off. I love not having to shower and get dressed right away, cram some breakfast down my throat, tidy up a bit and open the door with a big, fake grin when people drop their children off.
I loved the kids. I really did. But I don't miss the job in the slightest. Sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. Now that it's gone, I know I had a god awful job.
I like how I can see beauty in everything around me.