I just sent Robert and the boys off to one of Ethan's baseball games.
This is the first time Robert has taken Ethan to a game ever. And I made him take the kids too.
I've been doing this whole baseball game routine 2-3 times a week for 4 weeks. It's his turn.
I should feel euphoric. Finally, I'm free of baseball, if even for a few hours.
Instead I feel guilty.
And it's not like I'm sitting on my butt playing Facebook games or blog surfing. I'm doing stuff off his chores list and cleaning and doing laundry and preparing potato salad for tonight's inaugural lighting of the grill. I'm working hard and I'm working fast.
Still, I can't help but feel Robert got the short end of the stick. The 2 younger kids could have stayed here, but I made them go. I'm much more efficient with out them.
Why can't I enjoy this?