Once I get the princesses to bed at the end of the day, I clock out. Mentally, my work day is done. It is almost physically impossible for me to convince myself to tackle the mountain of clothes waiting to be folded, or the dirty dishes that need to be rinsed and put in the dishwasher. I know they're there, waiting. And the guilt is there too. But I just can't. The couch and all it's relaxing splendor is too tempting to resist.
In my mind, it would be like Hubs clocking out at work and then going back to do two more hours of work off the clock. Do you think I'd be ok with that? Um, no. Who would?
So I've trained myself to operate the same way. Jammied kiddos, brushed, tucked, and snuggled. Songs sung and prayers said. Kisses to all and lights out.
Click. Mommy's clocked out. Overtime only available upon request.
PS. Hi my friends. I've missed you. :-)
