While walking out of a restaurant last night with the Kidlet, after a 13-hour workday, she mentioned being happy about going home and into bed. To which I replied, “I would love to do that too.”
Then, she said, “Let me guess. You have to work.”
I told her she was correct, to which she responded, “You have a hard life.”
I started to say, “Tell me about it,” and then I stopped myself. I explained to her that I have a lot of responsibilities due to my various jobs and that I hope soon, I could focus on a little less so I wouldn’t have to work so much.
She seemed to accept that answer.
Today, I am taking the day off. The Kidlet and I are going on another homeschool field trip. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the busiest week of my month. Because I don’t want her to look back and remember me as the one who ways always working, always busy, always stressed. I’ve wasted too much of my life (and hers) doing exactly that.