How do people work outside the home for eight or nine hours and then come home to face their spawn? I can recall doing this in the not so distant past, but having four years of change has softened me. I spent the day on the ski mountain and then came home to them and their needs. If I could, I would curl up in a ball and alternately cry or babble.
I have to return to the mayhem for the next four days before I get another break. I am really not sure if I will survive or not. Ah, if only my pitiful existence could be chronicled in some really bad reality tv show.
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For me, working is what helps me face the spawn. It’s a cup of decaf in peace and quiet. It’s reading an article in the newspaper without having to explain why I don’t want to be Ursula the Seawitch right now. Sure, it’s actual work sometimes too, but I think of it as my quiet grownup time.
I did it for years.
It may be because I’m getting older but I look back now and wonder how we all survived. At the time though, it didn’t seem that hard.
Darn it.
I don’t know how I did it either. And somehow you will get through this. Think of what you have already survived.
And at least it’s no longer 2006.
Oh, I am so with you Heather. A full week of teaching, and I’m cooked. The house isn’t nearly the disaster it has been, but still more mess than I can stand right now, and the kids aren’t as bad as they could be, but I’d still love to ship them away somewhere else for the weekend.
And it wasn’t even *really* working–no marking, planning, or parents to deal with.
We’re not wusses. It’s hard.
(Love the site redesign, btw)