I love my job. I love my office. I love everything about my work week...for the most part.
Yesterday I had gone about my day with a fair amount of ease. I had ventured out to a local farm, picked some delicious strawberries, and managed to keep an eye on little man as he wondered up and down the rows of strawberry plants. [Note to self: The farm ettiquette of a 2yo is a bit left to be desired...he kept occasionally hopping from row to row giving me mini heartattacks. I continuously was scoping the fields to see if the employees of the farm were going to kick us out for his inappropriate behavior...They didn't, and we survived.] In the afternoon, I spent my time boiling sugar and strawberries, and canning homemade jam. (If it didn't feel like a million degrees in my mothers kitchen I probably would have enjoyed myself)
Around six in the evening, it hit me. My gut began to churn as I realized my extended weekend was over. I had to return to work the next day. I had to return to the scheduled "organized" chaos of carting little man to "school", fighting traffic to pick him up in the evening, exhausting every ounce of energy to get a semi-decent nutritional meal made for him in the evening, and adhering to his nighttime schedule of getting him bathed and in bed BEFORE 8:30. My heart began to race.
For almost ten months I have been working a job that I love. This is the FIRST time in ten months I had a mini anxiety attack surrounding the return of the work week. I don't quite know what this means, but I do know I need to do something to prevent my feelings of utter panic due to "the-end-of-the-weekend" from returning. Any thoughts or suggestions? Blow up nanny/housekeeper/husband you say? IN MY DREAMS! :) Happy Monday all! Hope you had a lovely weekend!!
38 minutes ago