The other day I totally meant to post and then fifty thousand other things came up and I was not able to do so.  Aaaaaand this is my life.

What I MEANT to post was about how I made a conscious choice to send my son to daycare last Monday, on Martin Luther King Day, which is an all-important teacher holiday.  It’s a day off when we really need just one  more vacation day, because quite frankly, one week was just not enough.  Yeah, others with Real People jobs that involve crunching numbers and morning meetings think we’re lucky and maybe lazy, but we watch their kids while they drink coffee and go to the bathroom with more than a 6 minute window that involves zigzagging through a sea of 14-year olds and too-loud ear buds.

Oh yes, I am posting about babies.  So I sent my baby boy to daycare and spent the entire day holed up in my newly created office ( This is thanks entirely to my partner in crime for creating a sweet new Man Cave in the basement, which allowed me to have my own space as well as a play room, yay!).  I graded papers for hours, and although I felt a tiny bit bad about it, I am glad I did it.

I felt like our daycare provider, would probably think I was a crazy person for giving up a bonus day with my son.  Okay, I though EVERYONE would think I was crazy for staying home alone just to grade papers.  I feel like everyone who somehow feels bad for me because I work and put my child in someone else’s care during the day thinks that I would be insane for sending him to work if I had the opportunity to keep him home.

But here are the facts:

  • We pay for the day, regardless of whether Baby Boy goes or not
  • He still takes two naps, so for the 8-ish hours that he’s there, he’s asleep for about half
  • If I have an extra day off, I can do things like laundry and clean the shower
  • In the grand scheme of things, he is picked up between 3 and 3:30 every day.  That’s still HOURS earlier than parents who work in the corporate world.

This brings me to today.  We had an early dismissal, and I just happened to get Baby Boy home just before the snowy roads got real bad, and riiiiiiigght around nap time.  Now, I’m not saying I wasn’t excited to spend some extra time with him, but here I sit, typing and eating, simultaneously, without making sure he’s not pulling every single book on the planet off of his bookshelf.

The last time I had a day off without anything to do was most definitely when I was pregnant last year.  And I can guarantee that I did not appreciate that time.  I did not watch the minutes tick by as I watched (probably in my sweatpants, in my bed)  an episode of Downton Abbey the day after it aired – which never happens to me anymore.  I did not think, “Hmm, I should enjoy this glass of (insert drink that has to be poured in a glass) and this (insert food that cannot be consumed in just two bites).”  I did not appreciate in the ample time I had to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.  I’m also pretty sure I never forgot to brush my teeth.   I am positive I never forgot to go the bathroom.

Yes, I chose this life.  Yes, I am sometimes stressed out of my f-ing mind. Yes, I generally do feel guilty no matter what choice I make.  I’d feel guilty if I stayed home and made gourmet baby food for my kid to eat with platinum spoons.  I think women just become crazy people.

I do however revel in the fact that every day I manage to pull all of this off, all whilst keeping a nine-month old alive AND even teaching some teenagers one or two cool things.

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