Friday is a Special Day

I am sure my own mother will have a great laugh about this.

I have been told that I am a mean mommy. I say "No" too much, I don't remember (as Hazel says, re-ember) everything like I should and I yell at them. I am not even the fun parent anymore. It is a sad day when Nathan has become the fun parent in this house. He doesn't even like tickling, and he springs from a father that is often so dry (but pleasant) that his own children started counting on one hand, how many jokes he makes a year. (I think last year there was only one and it came in late November. We are still looking forward this years joke...) So you can see I take it very personally that I am not a fun mom. Can't we both be fun? I am working on it. I told some wicked good stories tonight for bedtime, had them eating out of my hand and I think I regained my story telling crown.

Sometimes you don't know how hard are a time you are having until you get out of it. Maybe that is just me. I have to optimistic in the moment or it will crush me. I close my eyes and grit my teeth because that is all I know how to do and then once I am out of it, I look back and think, "Man that was really tough, how did I do that?"

I think this is why it is important for me to get out of the house. To do something different. I was sitting in the grocery store parking lot on Friday thinking, "Man, that is really tough back there at home." I just sat there for a while, with no one needing me or wanting me. And then it started to bug me. If I feel this way now, I better hurry home so N8 doesn't have to feel that way for too long. N8 must be more stress hardy than me, very few things ever get to him. I believe he is okay with all my Friday run- around- town- meanderings. He knows I need to get out, and he does a great job while I am gone.

Friday is a little special to me. I run around to all the stores and do all the errands that I can't do during the week because if I don't, I have to drag 5 children, 3 that don't walk and 2 that can only spin me in circles somewhere to get something. It is like trying to walk through drying cement or water, or run on sand. Library books, pick up dry cleaning, groceries, go to the Temple, other odds and ends, CC needs new Sunday shoes etc.. On Friday I can run around for a few hours and get it all out of my system.

I have a friend who's husband doesn't really let her get away. He feels like home is where a woman should be. In theory it sounds right. But I argue that a gal needs the release of getting out, change of pace and all that. 

N8 tells me I need a hobby, something to do to blow off steam. That is like him telling me to get a hobby while the wind and rain are blowing so hard I can't look up, my umbrella is flipped inside out and I am fighting to hang onto it and my hat. Get a hobby? I can't even think about that right now.

I suppose that is why I started writing. I feel a release of tension to be able to tell my thoughts to who knows who, thanks for reading by the way. As I write, I think about my old English teachers and friend Joe Richardson. I don't want to know what they think of this, they could pick it apart from stem to stern, but I do enjoy writing it!