It happens every year. It seems that we labor on Labor Day unless we leave town. This year was no different.
I had made a vow to myself to not work from a list this weekend. I'm a list maker by nature so this was a big step for me. Rachel prompted me to get rid of the list. I managed to be able to do this for Friday/Saturday/Sunday. It allowed time for fun.
We went to a pep rally on Friday night. Saturday I took the girls to the mall for new jeans and then we spent 2 hours poolside with friends. Sunday we spent the day at a family reunion (more on that with a later post).
I will admit that it was fun but by the time Monday arrived I felt like I hadn't accomplished anything. And yes, I realize that time with my girls is something. A big something. And that I shouldn't feel like I always have to be doing. (I think that's a family trait; my youngest brother and our mother are the same way.)
My only option was to labor on Labor Day. And labor I did.
Lawman and I have opposite schedules for the most part so we took advantage of our being together for half of the day yesterday and labored. In the yard. We trimmed bushes, cleaned out flower beds, cut back tree limbs. It was labor. No question about it.
But I didn't stop there.
I made a big lunch in honor of the holiday -- grilled burgers, brats, and a potato & carrot casserole. I also had Slow Cooker Lemon Chicken going in the crock-pot for dinner (which no one ate because we were still full from that big, late lunch). I made homemade salsa. So much so that I've instructed the family that tortilla chips and salsa will be the snack of choice this week.
Lawman went to work at 3:00 and I was exhausted by that time. I showered, put on my comfy clothes and found my favorite spot on the couch with remote in hand and a pile of recipes to sort through. I'm not sure I moved until it was time for bed.
I was tired from my laboring on Labor Day.