I survived my first week at home. Survived is an interesting word. That verb used to describe how one handled being deserted on an island is in some ways vastly different than describing caring for ones children. In other ways, however, those experiences are extremely similar.
The first half of the week was built on this elation of being home and spending concentrated time with the kids. I felt such pride in the fact I was able to organize fun outings (and “properly” care for them while doing so), successfully run errands, accomplishing tasks around the house and bonding with them in ways I couldn’t when I only had limited exposure to them.
The second half of the week, mainly the last day, was filled with temper tantrums, time outs, and nap resistance. I suppose I’m creating the calluses to be able to withstand the hard days as well as the good days. I never expected this to be a painless experience but I had hoped that I wouldn’t have a vein protruding from my forehead while reprimanding my three year old day four of the experience.
Should I walk away from week one feeling a sense of success that I am still standing after a week of entertaining them, be it a four day week but a week nonetheless? Or should I feel that I have failed because it ended in a state of desperation for Adam to get home? Is this week a good jumping off point, a good baseline to start and there’s room for improvement? Or should I throw in the towel and see if I can get my job back?