Thank You, Universe. Also, Help.

I am working.

And my that I mean I'm working outside the home. Someone actually hired me to do something for them. It's not an exciting something, it's a business something. It's so boring I want to stab my eyes out with a pencil, and I under estimated both how much I would miss my kids during the day and resent having to go to work because of it. I also underestimated how big of a transition this would be for my kids. I also underestimated how freakin' difficult it would be to come home at 6pm to make dinner, try and force children to do homework they've been ignoring, bathe them, clean up what I can, and prepare everything for the next day.

Honestly, I'm not getting paid enough.

Honestly, they'd have to pay me twice as much for this to feel worth it to me.

Honestly, I feel like such a slacker when I think of working parents who do this all the time.

Honestly, I've only worked two days, and once my kids are asleep I cry about it. I feel like I'll never have enough patience again. I'll never sit down at the dinner table with the kids again. I'll never be able to sit and read them a nice relaxing story because their bedtime is always going to be forty minutes ago.

Also, since I've started working we've had a number of home repairs happen, Andy ran a fever, Andy was "Star Of The Week" and I could neither come in and help decorate his "about me" board nor come in and read a story to the class. And then Andy got a rash I'm pretty sure is bedbugs. He won't stop itching his elbows, and I've had to do a lot of unexpected laundry.

I keep reminding myself that there are really good reasons I'm doing what I'm doing. I keep reminding myself this is a temporary job. I'm sure things will get better.

But it doesn't feel like it right now.

Right now this feels exactly like what I don't want.

There has to be a better way.

There just has to.