The Old Man turns 38 today. Sometimes it feels like he's one of my children. Rarely, but sometimes. Last night he was mad that it takes the kids so long to fall asleep, and he was mad that they come out of their bedrooms too much after we put them to bed (water, gotta go potty, etc.) We talked about it and I finally got too tired to even think so I just went to bed. The Old Man is right, though. We spend an hour and a half putting the kids to bed and we have no time left to watch TV or to unwind. I felt like telling him that we are the adults and we don't get free time anymore and we need to suck it up, but that wouldn't have been helpful to the conversation. Plus, I didn't want to kill his crazy dream world of rainbows and unicorns and relaxing free time at night.
Next week I am working six days. Unfortunately this is semi-common for The Old Man and I, and makes life quite exhausting. My constant check is to make sure I have enough mental and physical energy set aside for my family. And enough energy set aside to recharge myself.
Right now, it's 6:55 a.m., and my little girl is playing dominoes loudly and I'm trying to write and talk to a three year old all at once.
Constant interruptions are a subtle form of torture.
The Old Man and I are going to a comedy club tonight. He's off today, and will disappear for a while to the gym and/or the knife maker show. Because he makes knives now. Talented guy with hobbies. Good for him.
No comments:
Post a Comment