When I was at home with T, I hardly ever knew what day it was (except for Sundays... there is just something about Sundays.) The days melded together and our rhythm was dictated by T's mood, the farm and chores that needed to be done.
These (week)days are dictated by the clock. Alarm goes off around 6am and I hit snooze a couple (ok, maybe more than that) times. Up and at it and out the door with T by 730. After dropping the little Miss at day care, I'm at work by 8am. Work, work, work til 4ish, pick up T and back to the farm by 5pm. Afternoon milking, dinner, bath (for T) and hopefully have her in bed by 830ish pm.
And then I crash.
And repeat.
Laundry piles up, the floors are dirty, there is dog hair EVERYWHERE.
And then Friday rolls around. There is a feeling of anticipation all day, knowing that freedom is only a few hours away. Friday evenings are my favourite now. Endless possibilities abound for the 48 hours of freedom that stretch before me. Freedom from the clock, routine and running around.
And if I'm being completely honest, I get most excited about being able to restore order in my house; folding laundry, vacuuming, grocery shopping, gardening. And just BEING with my little family. No where to be and nothing that has to be done except just soaking up what makes my world go round.
So these days are all about the weekends. However boring they may be, they are all mine.
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