A Damn Good Friday

Friday, March 13, 2015

Today was a good day.
I say that, amidst all the craziness, the chaotic moments, the times of near exhaustion. But you know what? Today was a pretty damn good day.
I consider myself to be pretty lucky to work from home at a flexible pace while also being with Lucca. No, it's not easy. In fact, each day seems to be more difficult than the first with his increasing talents (climbing) and knowledge (he knows where I've hidden everything). It's not easy, but somehow, for now, we make it work. 
Yes, I feel guilty for the time he spends zoned out watching Handy Manny in between playing with his zillion toys in the playroom. Everyday I think I'm going to shut the TV off completely. But the reality is-- he's preoccupied and far enough away from me that I can get some work done. He's not hitting the back of the chair, pulling out the computer cords, or climbing in my lap-for now. When it fades and he gets bored, that's when I go on my own personal guilt trip. I'm telling you, It's a constant battle in my head of "I can do this and make this work" to "This shit sucks, I want to quit." 
When we took a break in the morning to head to the gym (I needed to get my Zumba on) I felt good. He loves the daycare at the gym, and he's old enough now to participate in their activities. He was happy. He was with friends and teachers. He ran away from me when I came to pick him up. I don't feel guilty dropping him off to play for 2 hours, but I feel guilty when he's with me while I'm working. I find this to be completely ass-backwards, if you ask me. 
Before heading home, we stopped at the park to play while the sun was out and the playground was clear. He went on the swings, down the slide, played in the dirt, and ran nonstop for 45 minutes. There was a brief moment when he let me hold him and I thought, "I want this. All the time." 
The rest of the afternoon was spent logging in, logging out, making lunch, cleaning up, settling down for naptime, up again for a snack. I finally finished working and could not get out of the door again fast enough. We headed out for a walk with the dog and made a pitstop at a gated area at the top of a hill. I let them both out-- Brooklyn and Lucca. Unleashed. They ran and played and before I realized there was still mud on the ground, it was too late. Using the "what the hell" approach, I let them play and dig to their hearts content. But I knew what was coming.
When we got in the door, I wiped down B and sent her upstairs. I turned our shower on and she stepped right in by herself. I had intended on this cleanup to be a quick rinse down and we're done, but Lucca had other plans. He started stripping himself down, bringing in all his toys and wanted to get in with her. Gross, right? Probably. But, again, "what the hell". 
An hour later-- a wet dog, giant puddles in the bathroom, a second bath for Lucca-- and I'm beyond spent. I had solo bedtime duty, and as I look back on this day in this quiet house on a Friday night, I think that today was a pretty damn good day. It definitely had it's moments. I felt guilty and happy and guilty all over again. But he laughed more than he cried, he wore himself out playing, we did things out of our routine, and it was good. It was really good...

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