I told the girls that I missed my co-workers so we had a sidebar and discussed if between the hours of 9-5, they would like to be my co-workers.
Nine-year-old Vivienne was immediately in.
“Call me, Karen.”
Ten-year-old Lila needed some convincing. We couldn’t find a name that she liked. First, it was Janet, then today it changed to Jeanette.
(We feel it suits her.)
These co-worker names are kind of fun.
Like, take for instance earlier today when my co-worker, Karen, was standing next to the kitchen trash can just slowly and meticulously throwing tiny things away for like 2 minutes.
Because she’s my coworker and not my kid, I could just say, “Karen, ya weirdo – why are you playing in the trash?”
Because she’s my coworker she laughed so hard she fell down.
If she were my kid she would have been DEFENSIVE and CRIED, “WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN TO ME? EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE IS MEAN TO ME!”
See? Co-workers are better than kids.
*Note: Adding “weirdo” when questioning your kid is generally not the way to go, I know. But… pandemic.
Anywho, Karen laughed.
And I got to shield my frustration with my kids by calling them fake names.
I’d say we’re all working on coping strategies.
So, today, Karen and Jeanette were busy. They had school work, inside/outside time and of course, play-doh time.
I was impressed with what Jeanette and Karen pulled off:
And finally, as coworkers do, we messaged back and forth during the day while I was upstairs working and they were downstairs
working driving their Daddy crazy.
This was my favorite one. From Karen.
She texted me her Spanish homework, and asked me if I could help her with #3.
You’re a mess.
We all are.
Keep soldiering on, friends.