I love what I do. I was at the smaller of my two part-time jobs, where I do family and individual counseling. I had a good day where everyone showed up as scheduled, and no one was feeling in immediate danger of harming themselves or anyone else, and I added some interesting new clients. You really can't ask for more there.
But that means my family had what we call a "Hannah-Daddy Day." There are so few Hannah-Mama days that I sometimes feel a little jealous. But I remind myself how fortunate I am to have a part time job in my own field, where I'm paid to do that for which I am trained, and I should stop being a big pouty-faced baby. Sometimes I even follow my own advice.
This evening after I came home everyone showed the classic signs of having missed me. Hugs and kisses were followed by Hannah telling me I smelled good: like a milkshake. High praise from my child, to whom nothing is better than a milkshake. After dinner we played Steal the Bacon in the backyard. This was kind of exhausting for 2 barely-hanging-onto-30-something parents trying to match the enthusiasm of a 6-year-old. During bedtime stories Hannah wanted to know what a seneschal was. I don't know how I could ask for more here, either.
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