Sometimes even 2 or 3 or 4 is the loneliest number.

Mr. EM is an elementary school custodian. During the school year, he works similar hours to mine and that's nice. He gets the same 3-day weekends that I do and that's nice. He has to work over Christmas and spring break, but he does get some time off during those breaks as well and that's nice too.

In the summer for as long as he's had this job, they have worked 4 ten-hour days and had Fridays off. That used to be nice. They would work from 7:00 to 5:00 every day and have a paid lunch. Their summer work is much more physically demanding than the during-the-year work. They focus on big repairs that can't be taken care of when school is in session, they move classrooms from building to building, they unload truckloads of paper and non-perishable cafeteria food, they pull all the furniture out of every classroom to clean the carpets and touch up paint and then move it all back into the rooms. In the past they have put up fences around playgrounds and built new playground equipment. Much of this gets done without air-conditioning because of the way the cooling system is...just one part of the building can't be air-conditioned and it's not cost-effective to A/C a whole building when the guys will only be in one part of it for a couple of hours before moving. So, Mr. EM would be hot, tired and sore every day when he came home from work, but it was a small price to pay for those blessed Fridays off.

Well, then Attilla the Superintendent took over. Attilla treated the maintenance staff like disposable help. In his previous district he had a hand in switching the maintenance over to a contracted company to "save money" and doesn't believe that the maintenance staff has any place in the teachers' union. Fortunately, not only would it not be cost-effective for our small district to contract out maintenance, but our union is very tight-knit and didn't share his narrow-minded opinions. Anyway, Attilla saw no reason for the guys to have their Fridays off...never mind that he usually didn't work Fridays, nor did his secretary or the district bookkeeper. Mr. EM's boss finally talked him into it last year and he relented but didn't make it pleasant. Their summer hours under his tyranical reign have been 6:00 to 4:30, with a half-hour, unpaid lunch. And "6:00 means work begins at 6:00, not 6:05. Breaks are 15 minutes long, not 20. Lunch is a half hour not forty-five minutes." Previous superintendents have paid an outside person to take care of lawn maintenance over the summers so the guys could concentrate on more pressing work to be done for the new school year. Not Attilla...so in addition to the regular summer work they have to do, each is responsible for mowing and weed-eating his own playground as well. That means that on the days they aren't working inside an un-air-conditioned building, they are out mowing in the usually sweltering heat. Good times, gentle readers, good times.

Needing to be at work at 6:00 means that Mr. EM has to get up at 5:00. Getting up at 5:00 am and then working in the heat, either directly or indirectly, makes for a tired, crabby and sore Mr. EM. He comes home from work around 4:45, futzes around on the internet for a while, reads or hangs out with the kids until I get dinner ready around 6:30ish, eats and then falls asleep on the couch around 8:00ish. The boys don't go to bed until around 9:00 in the summer which means I don't get to spend two shits worth of time alone with my husband during his work week. On his earned three-day weekends it's hard for him to sleep in because he's so accustomed to getting up early and he spends much of his awake time doing things around here that he can't get to during the week, so again he's asleep on the couch pretty early in the evening. We haven't gone out alone together since we went to North Carolina, partly because we haven't had the time and partly because we've been putting extra spending money towards other things that need our attention right now. It sucks, even though he's here, I miss him.

And I really don't want to complain to him about this because it's not as though he's not spending time with me because he's out boozing it up with his buddies every night. He's working his butt off every day and he's exhausted and I feel for him, I really do. What do I have to complain about? I get to sleep in every day and have the freedom to decide most days what I feel like doing, whether it's cleaning the house, taking the M.'s to the pool or park or sitting around reading. Because of his work schedule, I try to make it so that he has very little to do around here. I do all of the cooking, cleaning and errand-running in the summers, while during the school year we share those duties pretty equally. I do a little yard work, weeding and watering, keeping outdoor toys and things picked up. And I don't mind any of this because it keeps me from becoming a big fat slug on my couch. And don't get me wrong, I love that I have the opportunity to be at home with my kids during the summer and I enjoy it. If a parent has to work full-time, the education field is a great one to get into and I'm grateful to have a job in that field.

But...

I could use a small break from the M.'s every once in a while...one that doesn't involve paying someone to watch them while I get things done that I can't do with them around. Instead maybe someone else, like maybe my husband, could give Little M. a bath or put him to bed or referee an argument between the two boys while I kick back on the couch with a book and a glass of wine. I could also stand to have some adult conversation or just watch a movie or even some mindless TV show with my husband every once in a while, rather than spend every single night on the couch with his head in my lap snoring over the TV. And just when I think maybe we'll get to spend some time together or even (dare I say?) go out together, something comes up. We can't get a sitter or one of us ends up with something we have to do on the night we planned or one of the kids wakes up from a bad dream and has a hard time going back to sleep or the money really could be better spent fixing this or paying off that or any other plethora of things beyond our control. Right now he's over at Dr. Student's parents' house helping him paint their living room because Dr. Student is going to help him do some work on our fence. Tomorrow he's taking Big M. up to MIL's to spend the week. He's making a day trip out of it, so that's another whole day of this weekend shot to hell. Again, he's not off doing something frivolous and choosing to ignore me, but that doesn't do much to ease the loneliness I'm feeling.

I know...quit whining Earth Muffin. Be glad your husband is employed, as there are a lot of people out there who aren't. I know that and I am grateful that we both have jobs that aren't affected by this recession. Be glad that he's at home with you every night, as there are a lot of married people out there whose spouses are in Iraq, Iran, Korea and Afghanistan, and there are a lot of married people out there whose spouses just don't bother coming home after work at all, who prefer to spend their nights with someone else or gambling or drinking or drugging their paychecks away. I know that and I'm grateful that I'm married to a devoted man who can and wants to be at home with his family every night after work. I know, I know, I know. Just let me have my pity party here, ok? Well, that's fine, Earth Muffin, but a pity party doesn't make anything better now, does it? No, it doesn't. Shut up, voice in my head.

Sigh.

I guess this post is really going nowhere. I just needed to get this stuff off my chest and this is the best outlet I have to do it. Pity party or not, there's still laundry that needs to be folded sitting in the living room and there's still dishes that need to be done sitting in the sink and I still have to try to get a half hour of exercise in today and there are still two boys here to keep fed and entertained. A pity party will not make a free baby-sitter magically appear on my doorstep with a handful of restaurant and movie gift certificates, nor will it make Mr. EM any less tired and sore after working hard all week long. All a pity party does is make me feel worse and that's not doing anyone any good.

And there is a little light at the end of the tunnel. Attilla the Superintendent resigned in January and his last day was June 30th. The new guy is already proving to be a bit more realistic about the summer work load and maybe he'll be a little more flexible about their summer hours next year. In a couple of weeks Mr. EM is taking a week of vacation. Part of that time we will be taking the M.'s to Chicago, but I would imagine we can find some time to go out by ourselves during that week as well. The M.'s seem to be getting along well enough today that I can squeeze in an episode of True Blood before it has to go back to the rental store.

Things could be worse. And I know that. And my pity party is officially over now. Thanks for listening, gentle readers...if there are any of you left out there after my angsty, little, teenage, nobody's-paying-attention-to-me fit.