Ebbing Weekend
On Friday, the weekend seemed full of promise: an endless field in an old Western. A particularly long workweek had ended (late, I might add). I came home to friends and family, pizza, two games of Halo multiplayer split screen, and a trip to a newly-opened cafe two blocks away: Insomniac Coffee (which made an excellent first impression with a smooth, tripple-shot carmel latte). On top of it all, we had completed our move to a new nursing agency, and Hannah had a night nurse scheduled that night.
We said good-bye to our friends a little before nine and helped Gabriel and Hannah to bed (definition: into their beds, not necessarily to sleep). I received permission from Janette to retire to the Big TV, and I caught up on The Tudors and Real Time with Bill Maher. It was a late night. I was exhausted and happy. As long as I stayed up, Friday night could not end. If I had Clockwork Orange toothpicks for my eyes, I might have tried them, but I gave up the ghost around 1:30am.
Saturday was still a day where I could ignore the encroaching Monday. On Saturday, everyone woke before 9am. In fact, I was the last to wake: a very different position from the last five-plus weeks of 2 or 4am nursing shifts. I suggested we make a coffee run as a family, supporting our new cafe and my primary habit. So we loaded up Hannah's suction machine, backback of supplies, manual ventilation bag, and her Kid Cart wheelchair, took a deep breath, then piled into the van and drove to the cafe (NOTE: would prefer to walk, but our area of town is missing pedestrian sidewalks in significant places along the route. Not very wheelchair or young kid friendly).
After coffee (and the purchase of the all-important lottery tickets at the nearby convenience store), we went home to await the day nurse scheduled. Janette and Hannah napped. Later, after the nurse arrived and everyone woke refreshed, we began our Weekend Orgy of Spending!!! Toys R Us! Dinner Out! Trader Joes! Barnes and Noble! We bounced between them and home and out again for most of the afternoon and evening, spending my recently acquired paycheck capriciously (the ONLY way to spend it enjoyably - paying bills doesn't deliver the same satisfaction).
By 9pm, still recovering from the late Friday night, I was ready to drop. I offered to pick up Hannah's morning nursing shift, and I went to bed.
Sunday. Day of Dread. Day-Before-Monday. I write now on the day that Pretends-To-Be-A-Weekend-Day, but is actually Pre-Monday. I lie next to Hannah on my stomach, typing away as she watches the new Backyardigans DVD we purchased at Toys R Us (along with Gabriel's first two-wheel bike). She is alternately playing with the Bee, rolling over on her tummy to see what I'm typing, and watching the tv. The new workweek, sure to be fuller than the last two, is crouched in front of me, waiting to pounce.
Sure, we'll do family stuff today, stall the workweek as much as we can. But I know it is there waiting. I'll stay awake tonight, catch the Sopranos, play video games, do anything to forstall its arrival. But Monday will pounce anyway, sometime after I reluctantly give in to sleep. The weekend will ebb, my wallet will breathe a sigh of relief, and we'll all go back to work.
-- Dad
