These days I can't stop looking at the clock. Whether I am up early to write, the kids are finally down for their naps, or hubby has taken them out on some excursion (likely to the nearby park) to give me a little time to myself, it is always too little time. I scramble to figure out how to use the precious epoch stretching too scantily before me, guiltily knowing I should be resting at every opportunity to give this third baby chance at staying inside me as long as possible. The scarcity of my alone minutes puts such a premium on them that I become anxious and ultimately paralyzed at the prospect of actually spending them. Defeating the purpose of having minutes!
Time is crunching down on hubby too. We got in a fight this morning knowing it's Sunday and while there is so much to do - enjoy being together as a family, enjoy the beautiful day, go to Costco, plan and make dinner, and most important to us selfish parents, have the individual time we can't have during the week - there are too few hours for all of this. Yesterday hubby went for a long morning run with Toddler. Girlie and I had bought scones, and starving, I started to make eggs and put breakfast together like every morning. As the eggs slowly scrambled I became more and more fumed that although here it was Saturday, my only day "off," once again the family maintence jobs fell to me. But of course, there are no days off for moms - or dads. Hubby had woken up early most days this week so he could try to finish work before starting a new job next month. He's been trying to cram so much into his days that he desperately needed the run yesterday morning. Truly I understand and don't begrudge him his run.
But there's no person other than him from which to steal time.