This morning I said something to Brian about how it sucks to be a single parent and I think I hurt his feelings, but honestly, I really am a single parent. Except on Tuesdays when Brian is off work.
And it's hard. And I hate it a lot of the time. I love my kids but it's really hard.
Yes, I'm having a pity party for myself.
When Brian was up for this job, we thought, "awesome," he could possibly double his income making it possible for me to stay home with the baby for a little while. But neither of us realized the fully impact this new job would have on our lives.
Some days Brian opens, meaning he has to be at work at 9, meaning he has to leave the house by 8 to allow for traffic. If it's slow, he might get home to tuck Joshua in. If it's busy, he could be there till well after our house is dark for the night.
Some days Brian goes to work at 11, 12 or even 1pm. That means we won't see him until the next day for sure. Sometimes he doesn't get home until 1am.
Sometimes he closes one day and opens the next, meaning we may not see him for two days straight.
He gets Tuesdays off. And every other week he gets one other day, usually a Wednesday. (Those are the days that Joshua doesn't go to school during the week.) In March, he worked 26 out of 31 days. In April, he worked 24 out of 30 days. In May, he's actually scheduled off 8 days, but one of those he has to go to a company dinner, so that's 7 days he'll be home for dinner.
I shouldn't be complaining. He has a job. A great job. One that lets me take some time off. (Though it's not like his schedule would be any better if I were working.)
But it's just me and the two kids A LOT. I see no real point in spending time cooking dinner since it's only me and Joshua here to eat and Joshua recently has only been eating a handful of things. So, I toss a handful of pasta into some boiling water and spoon some red sauce from a jar onto it, and voila, dinner for a picky 3 year old. And I eat a bowl of cereal or some other random thing.
Bedtime has gotten easier. Evan has stopped his super-fussy, crying-for-no-reason time. Joshua has been really good about listening to me and doing as I ask at bedtime. And he has even stopped the incessant calling for drinks and hugs, knowing that I go from tucking him in to feeding Evan and getting him to sleep. I'm thankful to have such a good big boy.
I wish there was a grandparent (or an aunt!) closer than 4 hours away. I wish someone would come have dinner with me.
We have playdates every week. I do talk to adults at least once or twice a week. But most of those adults have families of their own to tend to during dinner and bedtime.
And it's not like it's going to get better. It's not like a construction job that has a busy season and a slow season. It's going to be like this for as long as he has this job. And if he gets promoted to sales manager, the hours could be even longer.
That's it. That's my rant. That's enough feeling sorry for myself, at least for now. As I listen to Joshua singing the ABC's while watching SuperWHY in the next room, I think how lucky I really am.