By Thursday–Thursday night to be exact, I'm done. Stick a fork in me, I'm well done. Beached potato on an ocean-colored-couch done. Did I mention that I'm a medium rare girl? Did I mention well done grosses me out? It makes me think grey, bland and void of nutrients.
By Thursday, the weight of being a stay-at-home mom is heavy. Being a stay-at-home mom is a really hard job!
By Thursday night, all I want is to watch Survivor and not speak to anyone about anything significant. I don't want to talk on the phone. I don't want to read, write, or play on the computer. I don't want to teach, explain, count, sing or answer the question "why?". I don't want to do anything. I'm a zombie. I'm blank. I've given all I can give.
I don't remember being like this when I was commuting every day.
I honestly think working in an office is easier. When I was employed, I could, at least, carve out a few minutes of "ME time" each day. I could go off at lunch, and veg out in the sun listening to music, or shop at the mall, or sit at my desk and surf the Internet.
Tonight I'm going to indulge my inner reality-watching, couch-lying, eyes-crossing, mind-blanking self and hang with my SELF and Gracie who is loving the attention and lying in my lap. Meow.
Tomorrow, I'm going to again do what I do best–be a mom, and I'm going to love doing it, every single second of the day.
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