It’s been awhile since I’ve admitted to my failings or white lies during the weeks but hey I’m sitting here on Saturday in the basement working, well not really but kinda am. See one of the platforms we use for work is down and I have nothing to do between other work so I’ve got some chunks in my shift to twiddle my thumbs. Not that there isn’t other stuff for me to do like helping the Teen tackle the laundry pile upstairs, or the hubs with the burn pile outside that was neglected the past month. I could even be cleaning the basement bathroom because I’m almost positive that it’s become a living science experiment with it’s own critters. I could organize the toy mess in the kid’s bedroom that I have angled myself to avoid eye contact with. I could be organizing the 55K and growing photo albums on my Mac for easy transfer to my external hard drive if I ever buy one. I could be on the phone catching up with my best friend or my mom.
Instead I’m going to sit down here with music playing on my Spotify and pretending that work’s so busy that I can’t help.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I should be helping and there is a small part of me that feels guilty but that’s about it now. Just a small smidgen of guilt and it’s not enough to get me moving till after I’m off work at 2 pm.
This is the last weekend I have the hubs to ourselves. After this he goes back to coming home from work and hiding down here till the kids go to bed. His weekends will be back to researching, reading, highlighting, writing papers and studying for tests. This is the last weekend that the house will be a dual parenting house till he’s down with his semester. I am very excited for this new path he’s embarking but I would be lying if I said I hate how much time school work takes away from us. We left the military to have him around more and I feel like we’re right back to when he was on nights working that horrendous 3-2-2-3 schedule. I’d rather he just be on the road trucking or on a deployment then have him half home stressed irritated and getting under foot.
(My current view from the pits of the basement. I really need to put that crap away but I’m going to just stare at it thinking about putting it away.)
And as much as I hate to admit it, I am burnt out on being mom. I’m burnt out from being puked on, from scrubbing accidents off the floor. From fighting over showers and bedtime. From fighting with the Teen to repeatedly dislodge her head for stupidity. From being woken up 40 minutes before my alarm goes off at 0500 every morning. From being woken by the same sentence every single day “Moooom is Emma coming over today?!” I love my niece but holy cow Ash say “Good Morning” or “Can I watch tv” or something other than Emma.
And another confession as I type this, it’s only 10:50 am and I really just want to enjoy a cold beer. The sun’s shinning, my favorite country artists are soothing me, the smell of the burn barrel has me smiling. But I won’t even if it is 12 o’clock on the East Coast. Oh I did see that Bud Light has put out two new ‘Ritas on the shelves. Although I’m super excited to give them a whirl, I ended up grabbing the Cran-Brr-Ritas last ngiht because I just adore them. And well I was too chicken scared to try something new at $12.77 a pop. The Straw-Brr-Ritas are way too sugary sweet and the Lime-Brr-Rita’s are only good on the river when you’re baking in the sun.