WoLFi TaLEs

Yesterday I experienced what was an energy sapping day, all because my equally shared parenting partner was away for 11 hours doing an equally energy sapping paid work day. This is unusual for him, as he usually does paid work from home and loads of unpaid work too, as I now more fully appreciate.

Of course, it was the first day back at school for Possum who had experienced a rather extended vacation of time overseas tacked on to school holidays. So any memory of time dead lines had all but vanished just as her ‘anxiety’ sore throat had suddenly re-appeared. Needless to say getting out the door was the first hurdle, with scratchy uniforms to re-inhabit, school bags to pack, lost library books to find.

We managed to get to school in time, just! After un-stuffing Possum’s overloaded pigeon-hole, and digesting all the upcoming events and monies needed to fund them, I dragged my body unwillingly to the gym – to a mum’s boot camp class. Let me just say torture does not only exist in suspect prison camps. I was being punished for all that food I had consumed and muscles I had left to waste while on vacation.

I couldn’t get home quick enough. Working on my PhD actually seemed it might be fun until I realised I only had a couple of hours left to try to write something somewhat intelligent or at least intelligible. After I had done the breakfast dishes, a load of laundry, and bed-making, the doorbell rang, – twice. Before I knew it, it was 2.30, so out the door again to do pick up, pay some of those monies to the school, followed by a shopping trip to buy school stationary and to top up the groceries.

Back home about 4.30. A neighbourhood buddy of Possum’s visits, and plays, and makes a mess until 6pm. “Yes, it is a bit late to ask for newspaper, after you have already smeared blue paint into my treasured red rug, neighbourhood buddy dear.”  Next I feed the neighbour’s cats, and ours; make dinner, and check Possum’s school bag for homework. None, thank god! Then we swing into a wind-down routine of a game, some colouring in, a bath, a puppet show, a story and then bed. At 9 pm, after washing dinner dishes, I’m still standing but dead.

One day, one child, and I’ve had it. I feel kind of proud for a moment that I can do it all on my own if I have to, but do I want to do it again tomorrow? – not really. It wasn’t a bad day, there weren’t even any after school extra-curricula activities to squeeze in. Should I admit to being a wuss when I know there are sole parents, SAHMs, SAHDs who heft far heavier loads for far longer periods, without respite? Perhaps I’m a hyper-parent of the more hypo variety.

Can you share with me a day that left you gasping…for (energy, a drink, air) you decide. Why do I want to know? Because you, dear parent, deserve some recognition for the work you do ! Some respect, Yo! And because your stories, will make mine, I’m sure, seem like a walk in the park.