Untenable, part Bacon

I billed 10 hours yesterday. JP worked 16. He left the house at 5:30 a.m., before anyone was up, and I left with the kids at 7, making them the first ones at daycare and me the first one on my floor at work. I left the office at 5:30, collected the kids and their many accessories, and got us all home about 6:05. Once there, I started dinner and the daily cleaning of all the tiny food containers from their lunch boxes, when suddenly, I noticed the back door was unlocked. Hmmm. We have a housekeeper who comes twice a month and I realized she must have left it open after cleaning the window on the door. I made a mental note to talk to her about it, let the dogs outside, and got back to dinner. About 10 minutes later my home phone rang. I ignored it, intent on boiling water before Claire pitched a starvation fit, but then I heard a teenage girl's voice over the answering machine saying, "Hi... I think I might have your dogs?... I found them near the [super busy intersection half a mile from our house]..." I grab the phone, run out in to the backyard, and sure enough- our back gate was wide open. Our gate has never been open. And it was open on the day that my back door was also unlocked. Panicking on several levels, I talk to the very nice girl who picked up my giant dogs (in her 2-door civic, no less; "I just opened the door and they jumped in, they seemed very excited about it") and said she'd be happy to drive them over. I ran out to the driveway to meet her, thanking her profusely as I hear Claire is screaming from her highchair because I've left the house. Landon runs after me, another big stray dog comes over and jumps up on him, knocking him to the ground, and then my neighbor's dog gets out and runs over just as the very kind stranger pulls up in her car with my dogs' heads jutting out the window, barking at the 2 new dogs now running up to my garage. Eventually everyone's dogs go back to their owners, I thank the girl one last time (turns out, she's a lifeguard at the community pool and knows JP from all his coaching), and I get back in the house to start making dinner at the time I normally have the kids in the tub. We continue on with the evening, and I eventually tuck both kids in bed at 7:45. Then I clean up the kitchen, call the house keeper, pack the next day's lunches and snacks for the kids, and get back to work, emailing one of our 30(b)(6) witnesses with a list of tasks to do to prepare for his upcoming deposition. JP gets home at 9 and eats over his laptop while continuing to work, and we're both in bed around 11.

This morning JP left at 5. I got up at 6:30 to an email from my 30(b)(6) witness who is now refusing to cooperate and wants to withdraw from the depo. I shuffle the kids through the morning routine, increasingly panicking over how much I have to do at work. Landon flips out because he can't see the end of Curious George. I pack his breakfast to-go and get them both in the car and start driving to daycare, pondering what happened with my witness and how mad the senior attorneys will be at me when they find out he's defecting. Like he does every morning, JP calls to talk to the kids through the bluetooth in the car. Unlike every other morning, I burst in to tears and pull over on the side of the road. Claire's happily yelling "dada! dada!", Landon wants to know why we're not moving, and I can't figure out what I'm crying about. JP asks what's wrong and all I can say is I can't do all of this by myself. And I just want someone to tell me I'm doing a good job, but there's no one to say that, and right now I feel like it would probably be a lie anyway. I try to get a hold of myself and JP seems rather stunned by the change in our usually jolly morning convo, but he sympathizes and says he'll figure out a way to be home more, and oh by the way, I'm about to step in a meeting, I'm actually standing outside the door for my quick "hi," are you okay to keep driving now?

The kids go to daycare, I go to work. Though I don't normally do breakfast, I need some sort of comfort food and it's too early for candy. I head down to the cafe, order 3 strips of bacon, and clutch them in my hand while riding back up the elevator. I lock myself my office (with my bacon) and get to work. Hours later, things are a little better. The witness situation had nothing to do with me, and really, it's all going to be okay. I wish I could have written about Monday or Tuesday mornings, when everything went so smoothly and the kids were so adorable and Landon was pushing Claire around the house in his giant dump truck, or Monday night when we had a nice dinner together and played a game of memory before having family story tickle time on Landon's bed. Overall, more days are like that. But the days that aren't feel so overwhelming so fast, leaving me wondering how is it possible to work this much, at home and at the office, and still feel so lacking?