Two weeks ago I took a 6 day trip to Las Vegas on business. 6 days where my 3-year-old was left alone with his father. An awesome father, mind you, but a father. Which meant that I still had to do kid laundry before I left, lay out what lunches would be for the week, and make a list of breakfast and dinner foods the child would eat. And the very second that I returned, I was handed the child and told that I should consider myself lucky that they hadn't both gone feral. So 6 straight days of working sometimes 14-hour days, and I come home to a husband and kid who love me, but don't allow me any chance to recuperate!
The one fabulous thing about that trip was that, even though I still went to bed too late and had to get up too early, there was no chance of being awakened in the middle of the night with the sweet-but-still-middle-of-the-night sound of "Mommy!" coming from the other room.
So I got home at just about midnight on Thursday night, got up at 6:30 Friday morning to get the kid ready, make his lunch, and get him to daycare (thankfully, hubby took him to school)... and I must admit I went back to bed. And didn't wake up until 2pm!
Ah, working mother.
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