"It's been a long day," you remark as you walk in the front door, twelve or so hours after you left through it to start your non-nine to five, nine to five(ish) job.
You're depleted of conversation, energy and really just give-a-hoots.
You've got bosses, clients, and lots of crap that you are required to get done.
And, now you are home and want nothing more but to wind down.
But, alas, our always wound up children long for your attention and affection (and so do I).
"It's been a long day," I frustratingly comment as you walk in the front door twelve hours after you left through it to start your non-nine to five, nine to five(ish) job.
I'm depleted of conversation with unnecessarily noisy, still funny, but irrational pint-sized people.
I'm lacking energy and give-a-hoots.
I've got bosses, too.
Three to be exact.
They are also my clients, and I've got lots of crap that I am required to get done.
And, now you are home, and I want nothing more but to wind down, but alas, our always wound up children seek even more of my attention and affection as there is three of them and only one of you.
And, so I give it.
"It's been a long day," the kids contest as you walk in the front door twelve hours after you left through it to start your non-nine to five, nine to five(ish) job.
They're not tired.
They want to keep talking.
They have TONS of energy, and they give a hoot about E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G which they already told me a gazillion times and are sure to make known to you before you even have a chance to hang your coat or take off your shoes.
They've got bosses; it's you and I.
They've got teachers and coaches and other rule-makers, and they've got lots of crap that all of us collectively require them to get done.
And, now we are both in the home at the same time, with an opportunity to all spend time together, and they don't want to wind down; they want to play, gab and drape all over us.
It's been a long day for each of us, and perhaps if our ungrateful, periodically self-absorbed brains could remember that daily, we would purposefully and happily fill each other's buckets rather than, around 6 pm, taking the almost empty ones and depleting them fully.
The days may seem long as we all tend to our respective roles in what is our very busy present reality, but life is short, and I'm committing to myself to no longer waste another breath complaining about my precious time on this Earth or suggesting that I'm more productive with it and therefore deserve more accolades (and rest) than any of the other hardworking members of my family.
"It's been a long day," you comment.
"It sure as hell has," I respond, "but ain't nothing like a long day to afford us enough time to ponder and reflect on just how utterly grateful we should be for our three living joys who tend to make it feel longer.
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