The last two days, I’ve had to fight an overwhelming sense of failure. The critic part of my brain is telling me “You are doing NOTHING with your vacation. You will have to return to work soon. It will be WASTED.”
Thank you, critic. Now go away.
Why am I so hard on myself? By my calculation (including weekends), I have 19 off in a row. Today was Day 10 — the halfway mark. I’ve done lots of things, but in some ways, none of the things I really wanted to do. It is amazing how much time it taken up by watching the kids, keeping the house clean, doing laundry, etc. I have had time to read and take a nap, but nothing excessive.
I should be glad I have been able to keep up with the housework, and that I do have about three hours of free time each day while I’m on vacation. I guess I just imagined that those 9 hours I spend every day at work would magically be all me time. That’s my failure — not looking at reality.
The last time I had an extended chunk of time off (when I wasn’t recovering from surgery) was when I brought Rachel home. I didn’t get much done then, either. I guess my expectations were too high — I thought that since the kids were older, it all would be easier.
I keep forgetting that the scale of the work increases at the same rate as the increase in the size of the kids/family.
Time to stop kicking myself, read a chapter in a book, then hit the hay. Tomorrow has to feel different.