Thursday are the worst days. My husband works out of town so he has to leave early. My son has orchestra at 7:30 a.m. My daughter has to be at school by 9 a.m. I work at 8 a.m., 40 minutes away.
The math does not work out.
Today we had kids showered, dressed, brushed, breakfasted and out the door with homemade lunches. We were high-fiving each other on the way out when we see our daughter dragging her little rolling backpack back across the street. The girl she usually walks to school with is sick and not going to school today.
So I had a little tantrum about hating my divided attention (work v. home) and then, resigned to my tardy fate, logged on to my office email to get a head start while we waited an hour for the early bell.
I’m grateful for my flexible schedule, but sometimes I’m afraid it will bend so far it will break.