A friend of mine had a job for several years delivering the newspaper, and he told me that the worst thing about it is that you have to do it EVERY DAY. There is no morning, ever, when you can just relax and not have to worry about getting those papers out. Sometimes childcare can feel a bit like that. There’s a relentlessness to it that is almost harder than any of the individual parts.
This weekend, though, is sweet relief. My parents took Dante down to their place on Friday night, and I’m not going to pick him up again until Sunday. It’s a giddy feeling of freedom to know that the house is ours, that I can sleep as late as I like, that Laura and I can go out to dinner tonight guilt-free. Thanks, Mom and Dad!