I used to LOVE weekends. I mean I worked in a hotel and then realised that it wasn’t for me cos I really really appreciate weekends. Thursdays, I’d sleep early as a prep to the weekend, seriously, it’s still a habit. Then FRIDAY!! Party time! Saturday! Gym/Beach/ kayaking/ training & then Party or Fancy Dinner time and Sunday, rest & recharge.
Now, I kinda face the weekend with a huge sigh and a certain amount of nervousness. There’s teaching, getting annoyed, food shopping, mommy mommy mommy mommy, I only want MOMMY, melt downs, temper tantrums, dogs’ vomit, pee cos Jordan’s potty training, I want to watch Elmo elmo elmo elmo elmo elmo. If I’m lucky, the maids are able to handle them till 8.30am although more often than not; I wake up at 6.30am anyway to chase the dogs out and give instructions and then I pray little feet don’t barge in and bug me or slam my door on their way out (I don’t like locking my door). Most days I give up and we (as in me) spend really early morning time with them, some days I feel like a shitty dog owner and bring my furbabies for a run to the gross beach near my place while the kids have breakfast and wake their Daddy up. I really miss sleeping till 9am. I miss shopping on a weekend and lazy coffee dates. I miss gym, a meal after and a gossip session. Still I shouldn’t complain, I work, I have helpers and I thank god for that.
I guess it’s going to be another 15 years before my life is kinda my own again and I’ll still worry but in general my weekends won’t revolve around them anymore. I can’t bloody wait.