I refuse to call the day I don’t go in to work my day off.
To me the phrase day off implies that I get to lay around the house all day and do nothing. Doesn’t happen, and is why I call non-going-to-work days my home day instead (yeah, yeah, I know… semantics. Po-tato, pot-ato, but I’m sticking to it!)
A typical home day – which is a Monday this year – looks a little something like this:
Up and breakfast. Wave goodbye to the Husband.
A no-rush, relaxed coffee as I read the Sydney Morning Herald online, check my emails and peruse a few of my favourite blogs.
Time to get moving. Wash up from breakfast. Get changed. Take the dog out. Give the kids a hurry up and get them off to school.
Home again. Put on a load of washing and sweep the floor. Let the dog back in.
Clean the bathroom.
Decide on the dinner menu for the week (helps take the indecision out of what to have for dinner after a trying day at work!)
Put the dog out again and it’s time to wander down the street and get whatever groceries I might need for dinner tonight. Treat myself to a fresh juice and slice of something delicious from Cafe Graze on the walk home.
Hang washing. Let the dog back in again.
Spend an hour creating: be it in metal, with the camera or in Photoshop.
Stop for lunch. Let the dog out. Again.
Put on another load of washing if there is one, then schedule up a blog post or 3 (my goal this year is to have 4 weeks in advance pretty well ready to go – I’m aiming to be organised on this front.)
Read my book for a little bit, up to hang that last load of washing and let the dog in. Drag out the ironing board and finish whatever ironing didn’t get done over the weekend.
It’s nearly time to pick up the kids. Put the dog out and head off to school.
Home again, home again. Let the dog in because it’s excited to see its kids. Feed said starving kids and help with homework. Clean up from afternoon tea and get changed for the gym.
An hour at the gym with Daughter, then home to catch up with the Husband.
Dinner preparation. Dinner. Clean up. Take the dog out for one last walk. Shower. Watch a bit of television with the Little Man.
Climb in to bed with the Little Man to have our evening debrief of the day. Kisses.
Confiscate whatever book Daughter is reading and tell her it’s time for lights out. Wait 10 minutes and then tell her to hurry up!
See if the dog wants to go out for one honest-to-goodness last walk.
Get comfy in bed with my book. Read until tired. Lights out.
Sleep.
It’s a typical Mum day really, with a hint of “taking some time for me” thrown in there for good measure.
Because like any working mum, I’ve had to condense a weeks worth of stuff in to that one day at home. Hence home day. Maximum doing, minimum resting.
