Okay, so now that I've proclaimed how great it is to leave the kids behind, I went and had a day that reminded me of the frustrations that come with not being the parent. I don't get to make the decisions, and on a day like today, when Patrick and I both were feeling the allergy crush, it sucked.
I woke up feeling like dirty diaper material, and apparently he did too. We spent time snuggling in the rocker; I made the executive decision that he could have his pacifier even though it wasn't naptime yet. But my head still wasn't thrilled. If they were my kids, they would have gotten a bit extra TV time, or I would've seen if V was around, or I would've let them do their own thing a bit more. But since I'm getting paid to watch them, I felt like I couldn't just check out. And my brain had never checked in.
Lunch was a nightmare. He didn't want to eat; on one hand, I couldn't blame him, since I hadn't felt like it all day either, though the caretaker part of me kept trying to force food into him. He ate a tiny bit of fruits and veggies before ending up in hysterics even when I offered him chicken nuggets, his favorite. Down for nap it was. And I went home and did the same.
If only they were mine. In a few ways, the stress would have been easier. I know, everyone is thinking that the other stresses far outweigh. But my head hurts; let me whine.