Before I had kids, before I was a writer, I worked outside of the home (and okay, sometimes while I was a writer because writers don't make all that much money, y'all). So I know there is no better feeling than the glorious, amazing thrill of leaving the office for the last time that week, knowing that you have an entire weekend to do whatever the hell you want.
Since I'm a work-at-home mom now, though (see here for a sweet illustration of what that's like), that has changed - and although there are a whole lot of awesome perks, one sad casualty is that Fridays have now lost a little bit of their sparkle. They blend into other days and, really, aren't that much different. But like a person who has lost an arm and still feels that phantom limb sometimes, the old me still gets excited when Friday rolls around.
This is frustrating, so I wrote a poem.
There's laundry to do ... but it's Friday!
There are dishes to clean, but ... it's Friday!
There's just so much stuff on my gotta-do list,
Plus anything extra that I might have missed,
But the thought of these chores just makes me feel pissed -
Because darn it, come on now, it's Friday.
I wish I could clock in and out
And when five o'clock rolls around, shout,
"I'm done for the week! No more work! Time for play!"
But for do-it-all moms, Friday's still just a day
It's no wonder my hair is going so gray
'Cause the magic is gone out of Friday.
I'm still waiting for someone to open up that exclusive club for thirtysomethings.
Make it happen, people.
Happy Friday - whether you've got anything going on this weekend or not!