Crawling to the Finish

"I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours."

Jerome K. Jerome, "Three Men in a Boat", 1889

I think of my favourite quotation as I sit here with a messy house, no food in my fridge, naked children running around, and about 600 gala photos to edit from last month. That's of course in addition to all the birthday parties to plan and execute in the next month, meals to prep and clean up, grass to grow, Primary lessons and interviews, and a teacher development training meeting to plan.

It's not because I am lazy that I just look around at the mountains of things that need to get done. It's just that after four years of going it alone (getting meals, cleaning, wiping bums and noses, lugging kids on errands, bathing kids, getting them ready for bed, cleaning messes and spills and vomit) while Brad was busy studying or doing something school-related, I am exhausted.

Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining, not about the past anyway. It had to be done--he had to study and the kids needed caring for.

But lately I have felt like I am at the end of a marathon and unlike other competitors, I am not even walking to the finish. Not even limping.

I am the competitor who is slowly crawling along the ground with three kids and a puppy on my back, hoping to get at least a finger nail across the finish line just to say that I did it.

And I was fine with that. I thought some things could wait until Brad had some extra time between when school got out and graduation day loomed closer. Things such as party planning, photo editing, and a much needed decent hair cut.

Every week we suck it up to get through one more week without our husband and father because we are told that the following week will be better. That he will actually come home for dinner. At least one night.

And every new week brings heartbreak--and greater pressure for me, trying to figure out how to get to the things that absolutely cannot wait another day. Things like grocery shopping and running to the toy store on the last day of the sale to grab birthday presents, hoping that the kids in the cart don't see their gifts all done within 2 hours before picking up Jayden from school.

Even still, I know I don't have it as badly as Brad. I can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for him to even roll out of bed every morning.

And so, as much as my body yearns to just sit and stare at the mounds of work waiting for it, I have to find it in myself to start shoveling and try to make a dent in my "to-do" lists.

In the mean time though, could the faculty please have a little compassion? I am not saying they need to turn into Mother Teresa or anything and let him come home every day for dinner. But maybe at least once or twice a week. I mean, school is officially over. And they are graduating. Please let them come up for a bit of air before they hit the work force for the rest of their lives.

If the faculty thinks it is horrible that these students should be happy or excited about graduating, we promise we won't crack a smile. At least not in front of the professors. Promise.

Seriously. Please. We'd like our husband and father back.

And while I'm making wishes: I'd like this mountain of work to disappear . . . at least for a week.