Real Stress

After a particularly busy week at work, it is appropriate to extend
wishes for a relaxing weekend. Unfortunately, I know of no such
thing. This weekend brought Aaron howling about half the time he was
awake, and throwing food or hitting his sister the other half; and
Jada losing it once on Saturday morning at a restaurant and once on
Sunday evening when she was unsuccessful going poopy because she was
so tired. Both Amy and I are frayed from the experience. In
contrast, being in my office for ten hours straight juggling multiple
clients and multiple deadlines seems, well, tame, since it also means
a respite from my kids, who are safely tucked away at day care. Oh
sure, my job is stressful. But it's nothing compared to the real
stress of the weekend.