- 6:00am - Wake up
- (yadda yadda)
- 5:00pm - WHEN IS HUSBAND COMING HOME!?!
There's this phenomenon that I've named "The Mental Checkout Time" which happens to be the exact moment my husband walks in the door from work. It's not that I stop providing care for my child or stop cooking or cleaning...no it's just the magic hour of the day when I can finally say:
"ask your father" or "maybe Daddy will help you" or
"I think you might stink can you ask Daddy for a new diaper?"
You see I have the patience of a saint first thing in the morning.
"No cookies for breakfast, baby. You want to take off your clothes and scream and kick? That's OK, I'll wait til you're done and then we'll eat cereal."
In the morning things just bounce off me, I have a magical patience that toddler tantrums and troubles just can't break through. Until about 4pm. At 4pm my patience starts waning and by "waning" I mean my Force Field of Magical Patience has withered away to a tiny wisp of self-control that keeps me from screaming and running off into the woods.
I need my Checkout Time.
What I had to explain to Husband was just how hardwired this time is. Right now my expected Mental Checkout Time is 5:30pm. So the early evening goes something like this:
- 5:00pm - I make a mental note of the clock as I scrape Playdoh off the kitchen rug, "it's almost time."
- 5:15pm - as Rowan is climbing my leg throwing Poptarts onto the stove things get a little more desperate "please, God, please let Husband be on his way."
- 5:30pm - I begin to formulate a text to see when he might
pretty please please please PLEASE GODbe on his way home without appearing frantic
But what I also explained is that The Mental Checkout Time can easily be adjusted so that a breakdown is avoided. If I know ahead of time he won't be home until 7 then my brain won't start obsessing over the clock until 6:45. But if I didn't know, if he's just late getting home, **cue cork pop of wine bottle** Mama needs a drink!