It's Monday

And I got three hours of sleep last night (no lie) because of some creepy noise. Dean thinks it had something to do with snow falling off trees. All I know is that it sounded like someone was scraping around in the attic. Sometimes the attic spaces creep me out. Someone could be living a whole deluxe (albeit chilly) life in that space and we'd never know. Except, you know, for the scraping sounds. So anyhow, it's Monday. I was up all night last night. It's snowy (Hey husband--remember your proclamation about Ella not needing her boots anymore this year? It's almost as if you're new to this part of the country...). I had a hard time saying good-bye to the girls this morning. There's something about being a working mom that I just don't understand sometimes. Friday, Saturday, a lot of Sunday, I was seriously desperate for some time away from the whining, bickering, etc. that seems to be our current pattern. (It probably didn't help that I worked six hours on Saturday and also had the pleasure of ferrying the girls to swimming, then having to rush like a maniac to get E to a 1:00 birthday party during which I got to listen to Sadie mourn her entire party-less existence. And I never did get a run in on Saturday, which I think tends to exacerbate things for everyone even though I didn't particularly feel like running--it was just the point that there would have been no time for me to do it if I had wanted to.) But this morning, I didn't want to leave them. Saying good-bye--even for a few hours--is so hard sometimes. And that's somewhat mystifying to me because as exhausted as I am today, I am certain work will require less patience and endurance from me than staying home would have. This parenting thing is something of an enigma sometimes.