First world problems.

First, I hate whiners.  HATE IT. At my house, when my children used to try the whining thing, I would shut them down pronto.

Second, I fully understand that there are people who have it much, much, much worse than I do. There are mothers who go it alone every single day of every single year. There are parents who don't have families around to help out when they need it. I know this.

But still...

I am going to whine a bit.

I am sick. I never get sick. Ever. But I have this cold thing that has persisted for almost a week. I think it's almost gone, but still...I am sick.

Russ has been working nights for two, three, hundred weeks. If you were to ask me point-blank what my husband does around the house, I would tell you, "He takes care of mowing the lawn. He grills on Sundays. He takes care of things I can't take care of."

That means that I do pretty much everything else. I make sure our bills are paid. I plan meals. I cook five nights out of seven (we go out to eat at least once and then there's a scavenger night). I take care of just about all kid things (notable things I do not deal with: loose teeth) -- keeping track of their schedules, making medical and dental appointments, making sure everyone takes whatever medicine they're taking at the time, etc. I do the laundry, and usually fold it (although I had a bright idea on Saturday evening -- while I was cooking supper, I turned on the TV, sat the kids in the floor and gave them each a laundry basket to fold). What little cleaning happens at my house is usually under my watch.

It's not that Russ refuses to do these things; I just don't ask him to do them. It is also worth noting that if there is a catastrophe -- anything involving vomit or lots of blood or math homework -- we double-team it.

Having said all of that, if he doesn't do a whole lot around the house in general (because I don't ask him to), then why am I so exhausted doing it alone? He leaves at 5:30 p.m. and gets home at 5:30-ish a.m. He showers, talks to me for a bit and then goes to bed.

Meanwhile, I'm rushed, harried and totally exhausted by the time 8 p.m. rolls around. At 8 p.m., the kids turn off all electronics and read. I collapse in the recliner and watch TV or read, then go to bed and then get up and do everything all over again.

Allegedly, this work thing will be wrapped up in 2.5 weeks, although I'm not going to hold my breath. I think my problem is that even though I'm doing everything when he's there, I know he's there for back-up. I know that if I totally lose my mind, there will be a responsible adult there to take over.

With him gone, I AM the responsible adult.

I am still running, and that's the only thing that is saving me from self-destructing.

Thank goodness.