Working nights never fails to convolute the already chaotic sleep schedule of a parent with young children. Actually, it's pretty bad for anyone at all who requires sleep to survive, working nights is just not good for us. I find myself getting mixed up in these crazy patterns, waking up at noon today, sitting bolt upright in bed, convinced I was late for my 7pm shift. Really fucks with you.
Today I forced myself to stay in bed, go back to sleep, however fruitless, and not emerge until the sun had set (sadly at 4pm). When I got up my house was unusually quiet. I guess Francisco had taken the kids out for some fun. This would normally be a blissful surprise for a gal who spends many days desperate for a few minutes' reprieve from the little people glued to my side.
Today though, I am kind of sad about it. I generally get about an hour's worth of time with my kids on Saturday between shifts, something that is not enough as it is. It is usually an hour spent breaking up fights, heading off whining at the pass, throwing food onto plates for the hungry mouths while simultaneously loading the dishwasher, feeding the dog, showering, and cuddling those who miss me. It's chaotic but it's what I get, and it's what I choose so that I can sleep the day away and not feel like a zombie back at work in the middle of the night. But today I miss them. The dark, empty house just isn't quite as welcoming without my posse. I'm sure I'll regret saying all of this tomorrow when I'm dreaming of an empty house, coffee-drinking, blog-writing paradise.