I thought that having the Danish Boy home on paternity leave would mean I'd finally have time to do stuff. You know, write more blog posts, unpack boxes, sort through my clothes and get rid of all the stuff that doesn't fit, go through the Spawn's clothes and pack away the stuff that's too small.
And what happened?
I have less time.
It's the projects he's got. Like chopping wood and mowing the lawn. There was moving all the boxes out of the garage into the house because the garage floods. There's picking up all the fruit that's fallen off the apple and pear trees. There's the endless agonizing over the cars.
Yes, cars. I owe you a post about how we accidently ended up with two cars. But we have two and one is "making weird noises" and "there's a weird smell" and he's convinced that we somehow got screwed even though I think we got a good deal and hey, at 11 years old, a few dents and odd noises are expected and I smell nothing. It runs. It runs great, as a matter of fact. And it has a baby-soothing radio. And you do not need to be current on your tetanus shot to be eligible for a ride in it.
Anyway, what with all this going on, I'm still doing the vast majority of baby watching and not getting the stuff I wanted to get done, done. I now need to come up with a dinner plan and go shopping. This I could have done earlier today, but I didn't realize that he was only going to start mowing the lawn at 4:30 in the afternoon.
Do I sound a little bitter? I am. I had visions of productivity. Visions, that with me going back to Danish next week, are going up in flames. Yeah, I've had a shower every day this week and today I got to sleep in, but I've got no clean clothes and the dishes are still piling up.
Someday, right? Someday we'll catch up with life?