I hate Wednesday mornings, but I love Wednesday evenings. How is this possible?
Wednesday morning is the last morning I have with my kids before they go to dad's house for a couple of days. Well, unless, of course, he's asked me to take them extra (which is pretty much a weekly thing).
My last kid hug for the duration happens on the sidewalk in front of the school. My last kiss is one that is pretty quick, after all there are friends to be played with. My last hug is bumpy with books and morning snacks. My last "I love you" is returned as they go flying down the sidewalk to play.
Then I go to work. There are no kisses, no hugs, no "I love you"s - well, ok, sometimes there are, but usually only if an employee wants something.
However, on Wednesday night, there's a transition. Now it's just me and D. An adult evening, where language isn't censored, where kissing is not followed by a pipsqueak voice saying "That's Disgustin'!"
This week's Wednesday will be spent keeping one eye on the Sundogs score, as they play game 3 in the cup finals in Colorado. Hopefully, the other one will be closed - after all it's kind of rude to keep your eyes open when kissing, isn't it?