Like so many working people in this world, I'd had Friday circled in red in perpetuity on my mental calendar. The weekend was time for rest and rejuvenation- maybe catch up on a few household chores that fell by the wayside over the course of the week. Ahhh, the weekend. Just saying it made it feel all was going to be okay.
And then along came parenthood.
Now the weekend is full. Every weekend. There's always something going on. Even when there's nothing really going on. Even the once exciting trips to Target [read: (tar-zháy)], have now become the obligatory trips Target- in which to purchase diapers, formula, and other accouterments for Miss K. When we get home, it's not time to plop down on the couch and catch the second half of that game; it's time to change her diaper, bathe her, play with her... you know, the 24-hour job of a parent.
A funny thing happens though. After being exhausted all weekend, and longing for rest and respite- come Monday morning- when it's time to drop her off at day care, it's painful and I can't wait for the end of the day when we can pick her up. Repeat for days Tuesday-Friday. And all starts again.
The weekend is certainly not what it used to be, but I wouldn't change it for anything.
2 comments:
Just wait until she starts soccer and dance class!
Aaaauurgh!! (:
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