Well, the weekend is over. It was hard. Really, really hard. Not as bad as I feared it would be, but it was still so hard.
I felt like an alien among my own family. Alone.
At one point on Saturday afternoon, when I knew that tears were imminent, I went to my room and basically cried myself to sleep. My nap was much needed and made the rest of the evening a bit more bearable.
The thing of it is that I love the kids and spending time with them is easy. I really do enjoy every minute I get to spend with them. Even when I'm trying to convince a 3.5 year old that Doritos and bacon bits aren't an appropriate breakfast.
It's just the adults that get to me. They aren't doing anything wrong or even overt. But I can't handle conversations about parenting challenges. Or lack of sleep due to an infant. Or breastfeeding. Or returning to work after maternity leave. Trying to redirect the conversation is an exercise in futility. And I can't be around breastfeeding. I just can't. And all of these things (and more) happened over the weekend.
So it's over. And it was hard. But at least it's over.