The end of work, that is.  But that’s something, right?  I brought a box to pack up all my personal stuff - pictures, my calendar, a kettle - and that makes it all official. 

Come Monday morning, my desk will be occupied by someone else and they’ll be messing with my stuff and doing everything all wrong.  But what do I care?  I won’t have to deal with the rescue and recovery of it all for 13 months!  I get my 17 weeks of pregnancy leave, 35 weeks of parental leave, and I tacked on 4 weeks of vacation time to the end.

With Eirinn, I only took 10 months.  Well, I scheduled myself to only take 9 months, but her agenda and mine were not quite synchronized.  Going back to work when she was 10 months kind of sucked.  Ten months is the age when milestones start appearing at lightening speed.  She started walking at 10 months.  Her vocabulary exploded at 10 months.  But at the time, it was a financial necessity.  We were moving to a house with a larger mortgage and larger bills in a few months and we needed that time with full pay to save.

This time we’re planning on our finances being a little tight.  Tight, but hopefully manageable.  We’ll have to make some sacrifices here and there, put off some larger purchases until next summer, but we’ll make do.  I think the benefit to sacrifice ratio will make it all worth it.  Not only will I be able to spend those few extra months with Baby, but I’ll also be spending more time with Eirinn; the time I didn’t get to spend with her before.

And while I’m immensely excited about the end of work and the arrival of Baby, I know that by the end I will be glad to come back.  I’m not cut out to be a full time stay at home mother.  I think those who are are much stronger than I am.  I need to get out of the house - alone - and do something not mommy related for an extended period of time.

Plus, I don’t think my Anal Retentiveness will allow me to let someone else occupy my desk, mess with my stuff and do everything all wrong for any longer than that.  I’ll need to get back and deal with that situation.

Totally Wicked Cool Things We Did This Weekend Without Eirinn (in chronological order)

Friday

• Had ice cream for dinner (yes, we’re 5 years old)
• Rented movies and started them at 7 (normally we have to wait until Eirinn’s in bed)

Saturday

• Slept in until 9am (pathetic, I know, but we got such a sound sleep during the night, we were magnificently rested by 9am)
• Ate breakfast on the couch (when Eirinn’s around, we try to be good role models and eat only at the table)
• Went to the movies (Iron Man.  Loved it.)
• Ran errands in the afternoon (during Eirinn’s nap time we’re usually stuck at the house.  Errands are generally jammed into the morning hours)
• Went to a real, live grown up restaurant, with no crayons at the table and real, live cutlery (The Keg, where we had dinner and dessert and no one was embarrassing us with their incredibly inappropriate “indoor voice” or tempting management to kick us out)
• Rented more movies and watched them early again (we also watched them louder than usual because there wasn’t anyone to wake.  Unless you count lazy Bosco.)

Sunday

• Slept in until 8:30am (again, a satisfying sleep meant we didn’t need to sleep for as long)
• Had a big, ol’, greasy, homemade breakfast-feast (but not until noon - skipping the meal schedule - we are wild and crazy kids, I tell you)
• While AH spent the afternoon playing some ridiculously violent video game, I shopped.  All afternoon.  Awesome.

 All Weekend

• Missed Eirinn terribly

What We Didn’t Do This Weekend Without Eirinn:

• Go into labour

I don’t want to jinx it by getting too excited, but…

My unbelievably generous and supportive mom and dad have “volunteered” (and by “volunteered”, I do mean “agreed after I begged and pleaded and cried”, but same thing) to take Eirinn to the trailer for the weekend.  That means that Anonymous Husband and I can have a child-free weekend for the first time in exactly 2 years, 3 months and 5 days.  And probably the last one for even longer than that.

This was my idea, after realizing my impending doom that I’ll soon be required to parent two offspring; the thought of which sent me into a panicked meltdown.  Don’t get me wrong; I love and adore Eirinn more that anything else in this world, but, as all parents know, toddlers are an immense amount of work.  And in a short period of time, we will be in the heat of toddler/newborn chaos.  Tantrums and breastfeeding.  Potty training and diaper poop-splosions.  Requirements of mass quantities of attention and…requirements of mass quantities of attention. 

I didn’t realize that this weekend is Father’s Day until after I had totally scheduled my weekend in my head.  I ran the idea past AH and he agreed it might be nice, just as long as he can see Eirinn by dinner time on Sunday.  I nearly cried with joy.

I plan to fill the 46 hours of responsibility-free time sleeping in BOTH days (we take turns now), running errands DURING NAP TIME (instead of cramming them into the morning, pre-nap), going to a GROWN UP RESTAURANT (one that screaming banshee children would be frowned upon), and maybe even catching a movie (in a theatre; not Wizard of Oz in our living room 3 times in a row).  

My hopes are that this weekend will rejuvenate me, re-energize me, and give me some much needed rest.  In a matter of only a couple or three weeks, I can include “rest” in the long list of Things I Used To Enjoy In My Youth.

But I don’t want to count my chickens before they hatch.  There is still 26 1/2 hours left before departure time.  This is plenty of time for things to go awry.  Like the weather forecast going from blah (as it stands now) to hideous.  Or for my parents to come to their senses change their minds.  Or for Eirinn to suddenly become uncharacteristically attached to me and AH and refuse to go without us.  Or for our house to fall into a sinkhole or the trailer to be crushed by a falling meteor.  Nature can have a nasty sense of humour sometimes, you know.