Thinking about a day off...

Being a stay at home mom is hard work. Not just for me, either. It's hard work for Martin to have me at home.

We got in a mini argument last night. He works six days a week. Sunday is his only day off, and we spend most of it travelling to and from church and, of course, in our meetings there. I know he only works 3 hours a day on 5 of those days, but it still means we can't go anywhere.

The rare days that Martin has off are precious to me, so I've been looking forward to this weekend with no church meetings for what seems like forever. But we had to tax the car this week and we needed some extra cash. Martin got a "handyman" job, and he was gone all day yesterday.

Being home with my children all day is rewarding and I am mostly grateful that I can do it. But I never leave the house! I cook and clean and wipe bottoms. I feed the baby and get kids down for naps. I do laundry. This is how all of my days go, and it is boring and lonely. I need Martin to have days off so we can go out and do things--even if it's just taking the kids for a walk (still really difficult to do on my own). I need him to help me break the monotony of my every day life, and I struggle when I have a weekend like the last one. He played football on Friday night, which should have been date night. He worked all day on Saturday. And then he worked all day AGAIN on Sunday. There was no break for me. And now he is going back this afternoon to do some more "handyman" jobs for the lady he worked for yesterday. It's not like she's even paying him that much. I get nearly as much for giving a one hour massage as he got for 6 hours of work yesterday (incidentally, I gave one of those on Saturday).

I do know that I chose this for myself. I know it is important for me to be home with my kids right now, and if I worked I would probably tear myself to pieces feeling guilty that they were being raised by a stranger. But I can't go days on end without a change in the daily grind. This weekend means that Martin will be working 13 days in a row, and I feel like a prisoner in my own home. He gets to go to work every day, talk to other adults, have interesting conversations. I love my Dylan, but conversations with a two year old don't tend to be intellectually stimulating. In fact, they currently consist of me talking to all of his toys one at a time.

Martin has a telephone interview for a job this week, and he asked me if I'd be ok if he got a full time job. The answer to that is an unequivocal YES! If he had a real job, he'd probably have two days off a week. We would be able to do stuff as a family again. And those rare days out are such a treat because they remind me why I wanted to have a family in the first place!

But that's enough self pity. I just need to stop whining and clean my house, cook breakfast, do laundry, and feed the baby. After all, I'll miss these days when they're gone. Right?