There is a conspiracy at hand. My work puts on a facade that they are vacation friendly, want us to go, rest and relax and come back to work all refreshed. Huh. I came back to work last week with a kajillion emails in my inbox and I have not taken my daily walk-to-maintain-retain-sanity since I returned. In turn, this makes me wonder if taking a holiday is really worth it or not. I suspect this is the plan of the workplace – send them away and make’em wish they never left.

I jest, a little bit. Work happens to be a shitstorm right now, and I pine, absolutely pine to see Grace on and off the school bus and it just ain’t happening. Also, I wish the time I spend with Edie didn’t revolve solely around arguments at the dinner table and pushing her off to bed. Why does everything have to happen in your thirties??? Why do the important career years and most-precious-kid years have to run parallel to each other? Why do the stresses of work sometimes wake me at 2:00 in the morning, and on alternate nights a wee one with a nightmare wakes me instead?

I guess I’m just having a rough day, but I sorta feel like moving to the country and eating a lot of peaches…with my kids.