This weekend, I attempted a feat I'd rather not repeat. I worked four days instead of my usual three days and had to attend a workshop for church. In short, I was busier than I like to be.
Here's what happened by weekend's end:
My house was a mess - the toys didn't get put away, the kitchen didn't get cleaned and swept each night and there was clutter everywhere. I didn't have time to think through dinner plans, so my husband ate junk all weekend and by Sunday night, he had bought a jar of baby food for Dan (not that jar food is the end of the world, it's just not my first choice). This morning, I was exhausted. Dan and I got up around 7 a.m. and both went down for a two and a half hour nap at 10:00 a.m. Oh, and, most important, I missed my son. I missed his first word. He said it while he and Jim were taking a walk Saturday morning.
When I got back from the workshop Saturday morning, my son was so happy to see me. He reached up his arms, smiled and laughed. And that made me feel sad because I had two more nights of work before I could redevote my full attention to him.
The extra money will help, but, for me, the cost is too high. We waited too long for him to shortchange him and ourselves by overworking. I've looked into doing some freelance work lately but have concluded that my time is worth too much to even put a price tag on it.
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