First lesson of me: I over extend myself. Constantly. In the middle of saying yes to something I will even think to myself "when are you possibly going to have time to do this, let alone sleep and eat?" but I just keep saying yes. Perhaps something to work on next year - a resolution I guess, if I believed in them. But this is how things I WANT to do get shoved to the side and neglected from time to time; i.e. this blog, two baby blankets I'm knitting, my oldest's baby book, and a whole ton of filing here at home.
THAT being said, I've been handed 9 glorious hours of freedom each day by my doctor. It's not quite bedrest, it's "restricted activities" but I don't care what the label is - she said I cannot go to work. And when I asked if I can work remotely (never let anyone say I'm NOT a dedicated employee!) I was given a big fat no. So I've got 9 to 10 weeks to kill. This sounded kind of great in her office and even on the drive home, but then I remembered a few things about my house during the day.
My co-workers do not need assistance wiping their rears in the bathroom, blowing their noses, having their meals made, clothes laid out, laundry done, or need me to entertain them. They do not force me to watch "Bedtime Stories" four times a day, ask that I learn the moves of the Dragonball-Z characters, or destroy what I clean within 3 minutes of me being finished. They do not puke on my floor, fight with me over every little request, or throw tantrums of an embarrassing magnitude on the kitchen floor in front of my in laws.
My 4 year-old, however, does.
We're not a traditional family. My husband works as a substitute teacher, so he usually handles the day shift after school or on the days he has no work. I go to work as the primary income and roll into the driveway around 6 to a kid that just wants to play with me for 2 hours before bed and a meal ready to eat. Me being home all day? I think my son and I are both in for a rough few days as we figure out what the heck we're doing.
Yesterday was day 1. By 2pm, the Wii was removed from the living room for what I can only hope will be the next 3 years. The house was destroyed, he was still in pajamas, had pooped his pants TWICE out of spite, destroyed a lego creation my husband spent 2 hours working on with him, and we had both cried numerous times (I lost count for him, but I was at two times).
All I could think about was the first day from the movie "Mr. Mom". Only that made sense - Michael Keaton was the DAD. I'm the MOM. How did our movie become "Mrs. Mom" with the same sad yet hilarious bumbles?! At least Michael Keaton had THREE kids. I have ONE! Oh...where is my crazy group of stay at home moms that want to get together to play cards and gossip? Where does one find them? Craigslist? Or is it like Fight Club and we can't really talk about it but someone will eventually come find me?
At the end of the day, I did what I do best. I called a meeting. Between the 4 year-old and myself. We discussed the problems of the day, brainstormed where we can improve, and created a plan to follow to get there. Granted, I'm used to a little more high tech approach with tangible terms of measurement (usually dollars and cents) but a sticker chart with the promise of a trip to Chuck E. Cheese appears to be my new KPI for being home.
Nine more weeks of this? I like to think we can get through. Especially since the last 6 will also include a newborn! For now, I'm bringing some business sense back into this game - the 4 year-old has a 9am with the shower, new clothes, and toothbrush. We can't be late for that!
