vacation from my time off

Today I got up at 6, worked from 7 to 2:30, came home and entertained four extra children aged 3-9 (who would not leave no matter how many times I told them it was time! to! go! home!) for two hours, threw a quick dinner on the table, took my son to karate.

I came home from karate, took the laundry off the clothesline, then came in to the sound of my two daughters yelling for me as they watched the water pour out of the overflowing toilet. Turned off the toilet, yelling at the girls about the joys of the plunger. Went downstairs to find the water leaking through the ceiling and pouring down onto the basement floor. Finally found the wet/dry vac in the darkest, remotest corner of the basement and the nozzle attachment on the opposite side of the basement (of course) as the water dripped from the ceiling onto a computer which I desperately hope was destined for the recycling center anyway, because it sure is now.

I went up to find my husband arrived home from work, bringing in groceries from the wholesale club, climbing over the mess of stuff piled in a corner of the foyer as we cleaned up the bathroom mess. He was calm, as one who walks in on chaos in progress can be, so I finished vacuuming the water, then set off on my bike, trusty trail-a-bike attached, to pick up my son at karate.

We arrived home and I had two Boca sausage links for my sumptuous dinner as my son made a sliver of carrot last for twenty minutes. He nibbled at each corner, whining about every single bite, until suddenly he realized that he hadn't done his homework. He is finally heading upstairs for bed, only forty minutes past his bedtime (and at least an hour past mine).

My seven hours at work were the most peaceful time of my day, except maybe for the commute. Tell me again how it's harder to be a working mother than to be a stay-home mother?