Even more than most, this weekend pretty much entailed two days of nonstop childcare, seven a.m. to eight or nine p.m. Shannon has some rough days during the week, for sure, but she at least is more-or-less off duty before I go to work and after I come home around 4:30 every day. (Definition of off duty: you can sit under a blanket and read a magazine without worrying that the girls are beheading themselves in the kitchen, scalding their hands in the bathroom, or choking on Playmobil toys in the playroom.)
This weekend, the benefits usually derived from the girls’ naps disappeared in the frustrations of unusually frequent and intense meltdowns, as well as healthy doses of general obstinacy. All in all, I think Gmail inadvertently summarized the too-much weekend when it miscalculated the emails in my inbox:
Uff da.
Well, in all fairness, I’m only “off duty” before C. goes to work and after he comes home each day if “off duty” includes making the girls’ beds, straightening up the nursery and their bathroom in the a.m., getting their breakfasts started if they haven’t been made yet, combing hair and putting in barrettes, throwing in some laundry first thing, getting the preschool bag and all outdoor clothes and shoes ready to go, cooking dinner, setting the table, getting school clothes picked out for the next day, doing bedtime songs, and intervening as necessary in the nightly screaming routine between 7:30 and 9 p.m. Whew! Off-duty is tiring!
Also, remember that last week C. was out of town from 5 a.m. Monday to 11 p.m. Tuesday, and I had 2 entire days with no help with the girls.
At least your girls allow C to take care of them. Most of the time, if I’m in the house, it has to be ME s0 there is no such thing as “off duty.”