I have grown to love Fridays, even more than Saturdays, I think. Friday means that everybody is home for the whole weekend (well, except my husband, who works every Saturday night); it means that tonight we all do something together, either watching a movie, playing the Wii, or board games; and it usually means that my husband is home all day, which means no dropping kids off or picking them up, feeding/letting dogs in/out of the house, and some actual time to myself... theoretically.
You see, even as I'm sitting here, my youngest is sitting as close as he can get to me, with his head on my arm, watching a movie on Cartoon Network, and my youngest, neediest dog is squished up beside him. So here we sit, three bumps on a log, despite my husband's best efforts to take one of the bumps with him. Something tells me I will get very little accomplished today, and even less time alone.
What is it about little boys and their mommies? He is with me ALL the time; you'd think he'd be happy to have a change of scenery, and spend the day with his dad, playing the gamecube, watching movies, going out to the store together. Nope. Stuck to my hip. He and the puppy, fighting for the spot next to me, or ON me, to be more precise. Sigh.
All in all--aside from the obvious downside of not getting anything accomplished--this is not a bad start to the day, really. I mean, at least I know I'm loved, right? A really needy, energy-sucking, stuck like glue kind of love, but loved nonetheless.
