I Need A Holiday From The Holiday Weekend

Maybe it's a truism that holiday weekends are not holidays when you have kids ... but it nevertheless bears repeating over this holiday weekend.

In my pre-late blooming mom period, when I was single or dating or married sans kids, I couldn't wait for 3-day weekends. They felt so rich and luxurious. I could sleep in. I could fool around with my husband AND sleep in. I could go for a long bike ride on the beach, amble over to a farmer's market, cook a really spectacular meal, and still have time to see a movie or catch up on whatever Tivo had Tivo'd for us.

I'd end those weekends fully rested and blissed out.

Now I'm an adrenaline-addled stress puppy after just two days of minding the kids. Ferrying them from museums to birthday parties to pizza restaurants, coaxing them into the car and out of it, into the bathroom and out of it, I'm a teeth-gritting, one temper tantrum away from losing it, wreck.

And let's not even get into how long bedtime seems to take on these holiday weekends.

I know, I know, I wanted kids. Desperately, terribly, deep down in my heart and in my bones.

I just never thought a 3-day weekend would mean not having a second to myself. (Okay that's not entirely true. I'm sitting here blogging. But I didn't get to it until 9:40 p.m.).

Here it is, Sunday night of President's Day weekend, and I'm bracing for what's to come tomorrow. My husband actually has to work tomorrow, so it's me and the kids (and the in-laws, here for a visit ...who are helpful, but with twin toddlers -- a high maintenance combo if there ever was such a thing -- there's only so much you can impose on Grandma and Grandpa to do). Daddy has a full work day ahead of him ... and I can't help but envy him at least a little. Because it's got to be more relaxing than this ...

Here's to the resumption of the work week on Tuesday. Now that's something I never thought I'd say.