The inside of my house house is clean. The outside of my house has been pressure washed. My clothes are all washed, folded and put away. My groceries for the week are bought. My gas tank is full. My dog is bathed. And yet, I’m not in the least bit ready to give up on this past week’s vacation. I have to surrender to the man today. I have to go back to work.
I complained about it so much yesterday in between napping and cooking and running kids around for church activities, that finally my 12 year old said, “I know you hate work…we all know it. But…do you like to eat?” “Yes, but what does that…….oh. Shut up and quit growing up.” I miss the days that my kids would say stuff like, “Why do you have to go to work today? Can’t you just skip it and hang out with us?” Not anymore. My kids look forward to the times when all the adults are at work. They like it because we are not here to hound them about “Did you clean up your room before you got on that computer?” and “Go see what your little brother is doing….he’s just too quiet.” No, they will be free to run amok today. And when I come home this evening, the laundry will be piled up (Little A makes a new and exciting fashion statement about every 40 minutes when left to her own devices); the floor will be covered in a mysterious sticky substance that no one will be able to explain; at least one of the kids’ beds will be stripped and the sheets and covers shoved in a closet; there will be sugar on the floor in a corner somewhere; there will be 4 and one-half pairs of shoes scattered about the house even though no one went anywhere requiring footwear; all of the snacks I purchased yesterday will be gone forever; the curtains may or may not remain hanging in the living room; and the tap in the kids’ bathroom will be running for no apparent reason whatsoever. Sometimes coming home is like a CSI case where I have to walk through the house, put all the clues and subtle nuances together, and find out who the culprits are.
I’m not ready to give up the however small feeling of control I feel while I am at home.
However, I do get to escape my house for 8 hours. And I’ll likely actually miss them before I get home.
Off to work.