I took all of last week and also Good Friday off of work in my fourth planned vacation of the fiscal year. My thoughts about taking time off are much the same as the last uneventful week away from work. I didn't do anything specific or special aside from piddling around the house. I changed out the seasonal clothes for two children and cleaned up a bedroom.
It was an odd feeling. Betty Duffy has said somewhere--I couldn't find the post so just believe me--that she finds it hard to write when she is too satisfied with life. I found that to be true last week. I had no grist for the mill. I just puttered around doing mostly what I liked. The thought of blog posts or even FB posts were so far away. I couldn't find anything to say. I momentarily panicked, wondering if I would ever have anything to say again.
I realized last week that I have never really spent normal time around my house without having to leave again in a few days. I have taken maternity leave, but that is hardly normal. I have taken time around Christmas, but that's usually jammed full of activities. I come home on Friday night and try to recharge and cram as many chores as I can over the weekend, but after two days, the time is up and back to work I go. But twice this year, I spent an entire week at home just doing normal things. It was nice.
But by Thursday, the specter of Monday was already looming large and I was in foul mood. A majority of the children were sick and I had promised my parents I would visit for the weekend. My vacation was essentially over and I wasn't very happy about it. After spending the day whining to anyone who would listen, I decided we were not going to drag the children out to the grandparents while they were sick. It isn't that I mind going to visit my parents. It is everything that goes with it: the packing, the unpacking, the time spent away which means chores aren't getting done at home. It stresses me out. Once the decision was made to stay home, my mood lightened considerably. I had
snatched another few days for myself from the general chaos of everyday
As it turned out, the children felt markedly better by Friday evening and I decided to be a dutiful daughter and spend Saturday afternoon at my parents' house. No packing, no overnight. Just drive up and visit and go home.
Now I am back at work. The most noticeable difference is that I have returned to my deplorable nervous habit of biting my fingernails. When I spend time away, I almost never bite my nails, but put me in a car driving to work and I can barely contain the compulsion. My mood didn't crash coming back to work this time, but I think I am crankier than usual. It's hard to tell sometimes. :P
Right now, we are patiently (or not) biding our time until the real estate option becomes viable. It gets closer all the time. I can see the end almost in sight. Will I have anything to say when I get there?