It’s Friday, yet another ‘F’ word ending a sucky week before I have my husband home for two whole days. Two days that whiz by so fast that I haven’t done shit before he disappears again into no mans land. Quite frankly it is bullshit. I hate it. I hate it because I have two kids who want my attention every single second of every single day and I am not that generous with my time. I hate it because they miss him and he misses them, even though he gives them every second of attention he can when he is home. I hate it because it doesn’t make sense to spend most of your life working while you miss all the moments you will remember on your deathbed. I hate it because I miss him but by the time he gets home I am too tired, cranky and over it to tell him or show I care.
God I love my kids, I adore my kids, I would die for my kids but sometimes I need to get far far away from them. Even if it is only to another room with the door shut, locked, dead bolted.
Sometimes I wonder how I will make it to another Friday, but I do, barely and Saturday opens up to me filled with promises of finished cups of tea, hours of silence, bowls of ice cream and trashy TV. Someone else to clean the poo, wipe the tears, build the towers, clean up paint, clean up baby food and feed the cat.
So here I am, Friday, I’m thinking pizza. Not cooking helps.
How do you get through?
