I said to the Husband the other day that after chasing three stir-crazy children all day I (literally) felt like I had been working a 12 at the hospital. To those of you who have never worked a 12-hour shift as a nurse on a medical-surgical floor, that might not be so evocative, but it might give you a picture of what my 12s used to be like if I tell you that many times I sat down exactly twice: once for report, and once for my 15-minute lunch. (It was supposed to be 30 minutes of {unpaid} lunch, but I almost never got my full 30 minutes because people dying take precedence over lunch.)
What brought on this state of affairs? Trying to fold 2 baskets of laundry. To accomplish this I had to wait until Littleman was asleep and then actually strap Buddy to my body with a baby backpack.
While composing this post Buddy has filled the bed of his Tonka with water and is gleefully playing in it.
Sigh. At least I do get to eat lunch most of the time.
Cheers,
Breanna
What brought on this state of affairs? Trying to fold 2 baskets of laundry. To accomplish this I had to wait until Littleman was asleep and then actually strap Buddy to my body with a baby backpack.
While composing this post Buddy has filled the bed of his Tonka with water and is gleefully playing in it.
Sigh. At least I do get to eat lunch most of the time.
Cheers,
Breanna
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