It's Not Enough

Today's post is brought to you by the number 30.

I've never addressed the fact that both Jim and I work, so here it is: I'm a 40+ hour a week worker, who has 2 kids and I'm fine with it.  Sure, it means that Jim and I are constantly juggling things like staying late, picking up barfing kids from daycare, not going to all of the milestone doctor's appointments, etc., but that's the situation I've got and I deal with it pretty well.

I'm not a proponent or opponent of doing the "work thing" or the "stay-at-home gig," I only advocate that other men and women do what works best for them.  I don't even have to think about this dilemma, because I know that working keeps me healthy and grounded, and that's kinda why I do it.  However, those benefits don't outweigh the cost that is the most precious to me: there are some nights, like tonight that I will only get 30 minutes (max) to spend time with my kids before they throw themselves on the floor and scream to be put to bed.  (This is not an exaggeration, Cullen literally looks up at us with his puppy dog eyes and asks when he can go up to bed; I've gotta admit, it's endearing and awesome- most of the time, except for nights that I work late.)

I wasn't a latch-key kid by any means, but I had two working parents, and I turned out fine awesome and I'm confident that my boys will be awesome too, so we're taking that component out of the argument.  What completely sucks about 30 minutes of quality time with my kids is what that actually looks like and just to be clear, this is what I'm talking about:

7:30ish: I open the door.  Overwhelming excitement from everyone, "Mama's home!"  The delightfully, exuberant squeals last for precisely 3 seconds and then I'm dropped like a bad habit for iPads and goldfish crackers...
7:30 and 3seconds-ish: I think, "yes, I'm home!  I can finally concentrate on those two beautiful, wonderful kids..." But just as I'm about to, I start to get these racing thoughts, like:  what are we having for dinner, what type of day have the kids had, is anyone sick, do we have anything that needs to go into the laundry, do we need to clean up (hold your laughter, Dad!), what's on tap for tomorrow, we need to turn in money for the teacher's wedding gift, I need to schedule that 15 month check-up, I have to call the bakery tomorrow to get an anniversary cake, etc., etc., etc."

So there I stand, burning my 30 minutes quicker than I can savor them and before I know it, I'm kissing one and then the other of the boys goodnight and they're off to bed.  Most nights, after I work late, I sit on the couch- as though I've been sideswiped by a truck, and think out loud, "Seriously?!  I cannot believe this day is over and I only got 30 minutes with the boys.  That's not fair and it's not enough."

It's not something that's going to change anytime soon, nor am I looking for it to change, because I realize that things in life just aren't always fair.  I also know that my plight may not be as bad as some, so I'm grateful that it's just one night a week, but that's not going to stop me from thinking that it sucks.  However, these are the realities that all parents face, working or not.

The only remotely nice thing about working late is that the sleeping baby pictures that I sometimes get are really cute.  So, I do consider that to be one non-terrible thing about working late, but that's the only thing.