The great thing about men is that they can surprise you.
Today was going to be productive. I went to bed last night with dreams of emails, meetings and check marks on the to-do-list dancing around my head. I would do it all and prove to myself that I can offer the same quality and caliber of work part-time as I once offered in my years of 40 hour work weeks.
Before I even had my coat off at work I noticed the message light blinking on my phone. I diligently wrote the jist of the message in shorthand: daycare-Caroline-vomit-must leave immediately. Panic sets in as I scramble to get the details of the vomiting incident, convince daycare that it's ok to keep her there for an hour or so and run around the office trying to figure out how I can get my day's work done in 15 minutes. I try Andy's cell phone 3 or 4 times. He's in a meeting all morning and turned it off. What good would it do to reach him anyway? He'd just tell me to suck it up and go home.
I call a friend who, although it's her only day off and she's in her pajamas, goes and gets the puking baby until I can get back home.
As I jam pack my bag with papers and try to send emails cancelling all of my meetings, the phone rings. It's him. Oh, he gets out at 11. Sure, he can go get Caroline and stay home with her for the day. I think I feel the feel the earth shaking but it may just be my sigh of relief.
When I was on maternity leave Andy would come home after work and ask me if I'd had a productive day to which I would reply, "Well, she's not dead. I'd call that productive."
Thanks to Andy for allowing both of us to have a productive day.
Today was going to be productive. I went to bed last night with dreams of emails, meetings and check marks on the to-do-list dancing around my head. I would do it all and prove to myself that I can offer the same quality and caliber of work part-time as I once offered in my years of 40 hour work weeks.
Before I even had my coat off at work I noticed the message light blinking on my phone. I diligently wrote the jist of the message in shorthand: daycare-Caroline-vomit-must leave immediately. Panic sets in as I scramble to get the details of the vomiting incident, convince daycare that it's ok to keep her there for an hour or so and run around the office trying to figure out how I can get my day's work done in 15 minutes. I try Andy's cell phone 3 or 4 times. He's in a meeting all morning and turned it off. What good would it do to reach him anyway? He'd just tell me to suck it up and go home.
I call a friend who, although it's her only day off and she's in her pajamas, goes and gets the puking baby until I can get back home.
As I jam pack my bag with papers and try to send emails cancelling all of my meetings, the phone rings. It's him. Oh, he gets out at 11. Sure, he can go get Caroline and stay home with her for the day. I think I feel the feel the earth shaking but it may just be my sigh of relief.
When I was on maternity leave Andy would come home after work and ask me if I'd had a productive day to which I would reply, "Well, she's not dead. I'd call that productive."
Thanks to Andy for allowing both of us to have a productive day.
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