This is me today. I went home sick from work on Friday with a severe head cold that knocked me out. I spent all afternoon in my bed with a box of tissues and my netbook. I watched a drama movie while I coughed, sneezed, and blew my nose.
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Before I knew it, it was time to crawl out of bed and prepare dinner in my jammies and slippers. Got food on the table just in time as my husband walked in the door from work with toddler screaming, "What's for dinner, Mama?!"
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Cleaned up the dishes from dinner, wiped down the counters, and headed upstairs for bed around 8:30, went through the usual 45-minute bedtime routine with toddler while husband laid in bed with his feet up and a good book, and then crawled into bed myself. Slept great with the help of some antihistamine cold medicine.
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Woke up at 5:55 a.m. the next morning as toddler jumped into our bed, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Made my way wearily down the stairs into the cold kitchen and got myself some hot coffee. By 11:00 a.m., I had done 3 loads of laundry, dusted several rooms, done a load of dishes, washed the kitchen floor, sorted the recycling items into their correct bins, straightened up the refrigerator, wiped down the dirty stove top, and mowed the front and back yards. Hopped into the shower and was in the truck and on my way to pick up middle daughter from a sleepover while toddler was whining in the car seat in the back.
Got home, made lunch, and continued to clean and sort and organize, and then began cleaning the upstairs. Did more laundry and washed more floors and dusted more rooms. Went back outside and used a hand saw to saw off several large tree branches that were overhanging my veggie garden.
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By 4:00 p.m., when my husband arrived home from work, the house was all but spotless. And then I sat down for just a bit and finished going through bags and bags of Goodwill donations, making sure to keep track of each item we were donating because it's a dollar-for-dollar write-off on our taxes, drove down to the Goodwill to drop it all off, ran to the library with middle daughter to drop off her over-due books, ran to the grocery store for some fresh hamburger meat for dinner, and zoomed back home.
It's 5:30 p.m. and now I'm cooking dinner while I'm so tired I'm nearly falling over onto the gas burner. Place it all out on the table for the family, call them to the table, say a blessing, eat, and pick it all up. Do the dishes yet again, wipe down the counters, and head up to the bathtub with the toddler. Then it's the usual 45-minute bedtime routine once again while my husband lies in bed with his feet up.
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Wake up Sunday morning with my head cold still hanging on just a bit. It's 6:15 a.m. this morning when toddler runs into my room for her morning snuggle/cuddle. Make my way downstairs and begin another arduous day of tasks and appointments, church and to-dos. Only this time, I make certain to nap for 1 hour. Wake up, visit with husband who arrived home from work at 3:30 p.m., then get the family ready for a picnic at the pastor's home.
Spend some nice time visiting with pastor's family and eating pizza and salad with sun tea to drink, then make our way back home. But we have yet to stop at Wally World for a few items before we can actually go home. So it's 8:15 p.m. and we're walking the aisles of Walmart for wiper blades, worms for my garden, and new underwear for the toddler.
Get home, plop dirty toddler into a late bubble bath, and do my 45-minute bedtime routine yet again while (you guessed it!) my husband lies in bed with his feet propped up.
It's now nearly 10 p.m. and I'm exhausted, and I haven't even packed for my out-of-town trial. I crawl into bed, uber-exhausted but smelling clean from a joint bath with toddler (can't ever get one by myself, it seems), and my husband makes a move. You know, "the" move. I groan and roll over. Not on your life, buddy.
My office staff and I are heading out of town today (Monday) for a trial. Although my husband has today off and normally watches the toddler while I work, he's been feeling sad and angry that he hasn't had a day on the river to fish, so a few guys from church take pity and decide my husband needs a day away from the daily grind and offer to take him out on the swollen, raging river for some decompression time.
Meanwhile, as I'm running around our home getting myself ready for work and throwing items into my out-of-town suitcase AND getting our toddler dressed, her hair brushed and her breakfast in front of her, my overworked husband is picking out his favorite fishing shirt and excitedly preparing for his much-needed day away from it all.
I'm at work now, nursing a few blisters and drinking hot coffee, and wishing...just wishing....that I had never agreed to bail my husband out of our financial disaster. Because now, it's up to me to carry the load. Kids need new shoes? Don't worry, I'll buy them. Kids need to see a doctor? Don't worry, I work for health insurance for the family. Want to take a vacation? Don't worry, I am saving money monthly towards this. Mother-in-law coming to town in just a few weeks? Don't worry. I'm getting the house scrubbed and polished and ready. Husband working all weekend long and can't help out on my days off of work? No worries. I'll take care of everything, including the yard work.