April 18th. A most dreaded deadline that marks the day by which all 2011 income taxes must be submitted, paid or otherwise accounted for, like it or not.

For me, though, this day doesn’t mark a deadline at all. It’s more of a finish line, designating the end of my  “single-parent-of-five-boys-with-a-full-time-desk-job” status.

At the stroke of midnight tonight, I get my husband back.

Tomorrow, he’ll morph from a harried tax guy to a stay-at-home Dad.

Theoretically, this means that I shouldn’t have to get up before the sun to rouse my boys and get them to school so said husband, who had worked late the night before, can sleep in.

And I won’t be the only one loading and unloading the dishwasher three times a day (compared to my usual one load, two tops).

No more being the primary negotiator, peace-keeper, grocery shopper, laundry processor and limo driver.

But then again…

No more alone time savored after all of the boys are in bed. No more playing the music I like as loud as I like it while working from home.

No more sole ownership of the remote control.

Dang.

I wonder if I can get him to file an extension, theoretically speaking.