So I sort of accidentally took a long weekend this past weekend.
I was leaving work early on Wednesday to head down to the LA area for a blogging trip to Toyota USA headquarters. I’d take Thursday off and be back at work for Friday afternoon.
Well, Wednesday before I left one of my bosses told me not to bother coming in Friday afternoon and to enjoy my weekend. Oh fine…twist my arm.
Turns out my flight on Wednesday afternoon was cancelled, but instead of going back to work, I just went home. So basically, other than the 24 hours I was in California, I had a 5 day weekend.
I don’t normally take time off of work. I just can’t. Not because I don’t have the PTO, but I literally cannot bring myself to take a day off of work. What if I miss something!?
I’m so used to my 2-day weekends that I’ve somehow convinced myself it’s the perfect amount of time to have off of work. The occasional 3-day holiday weekends are nice, but by the time the last day rolls around, I’m ready to head to work.
So when I somehow ended up with an almost 5 day weekend, I won’t lie…I went a little crazy.
By the time Saturday evening rolled around, I just kept thinking, “Jeez, tomorrow is only Sunday!?”
Then by the time Sunday rolled around my kid was driving me nuts. NUTS I tell you.
I really started to feel guilty about the things that were going through my head…
Oh.My.Gosh. child is it impossible for you to keep quiet for more than 30 seconds at a time!?
Maybe if I went in the bathroom and turned on the fan she’d think I was pooping and leave me alone for a few minutes.
The things I found myself actually doing and saying didn’t do much for the guilt…
Anytime Rylee wanted to play a game on my KindleFire, I let her. I was seriously getting to the point where I couldn’t bare to “entertain her” anymore.
At one point Ry was playing a game on the Kindle and proudly shouted “MOMMY I DID IT!” and instead of asking more about it, or going over to see, like I would normally, I brushed it off with a half hearted, “Good job Sweety!” shouted from the kitchen. I seriously have no idea what it was she did.
By the time we were turning out the lights for bed, my husband (who also had an unexpected 5-day weekend) was saying how much he was bummed about having to go to work the next day where as I? Well, I couldn’t get to sleep fast enough so I could get back into my routine. And there in solidified the fact that he would be so much better of a stay-at-home parent than I would ever be.
I tell myself that I’m this way because I love what I do and the people I work with. I love my kid to death, but sometimes she literally just drives me bonkers. Am I really just that bad of a mom? Am I that selfish? Do I really have this little of patience? Maybe if I had long weekends more often I would handle it better? Am I the only one that thinks these things?
Seriously, by the end of the weekend, I look like this. Straight cray-cray.