Let it be known that I am not cut out to be a single mom. With 4 full days behind us and 3 more to survive, that husband of mine better surf his brains out while he's on his vacation. Because when he gets home he may never be allowed to leave me again! On a diet of mac n'cheese, sweet pickles, and chocolate Easter candy, a strict regiment of long walks, Candyland and Ratatouille, the girls and I are going to power through to the end. Here's to every single mom out there. You all have entirely more stamina than I can fathom. Keep it up mommas.
I want you to know that while you are surfing your days away on vacation in paradise, I am here at home, working my ass off. I not only faced your week long absence with a few tricks up my sleeve to survive single parenting, I also took it upon my self to finish a few hundred things that have slipped off the "to-do list" over the past six months (that would be the day Ana was born that all remodeling and improvements to our house ceased). I won't bore you with the details but I will tell you that time is money and your money is disappearing faster than time can count these days. While you've been gone I became a born again woman. A born again woman refers to the fact that I will never again glow with a 9 month bout of hormonal bliss, and since emerging from the six month haze that baby number two cast over me, I've summoned my old womanly spirit, I've channeled my sex appeal, I've called upon your credit card for a fashion overhaul, and I've decided the house and a few major pieces of furniture needed the same treatment. I've remembered that I'm not only a mom, but a woman with a somewhat salvaged body to show off. Where was I? Oh yeah, the wardrobe, the credit card, and the household makeover items I've bought... you may never want to leave me alone with the kids for days on end again because I discovered that having two kids does not slow my shopping fervor, it just makes me - holy crap! it's 1 am. Ana is waking up. I gotta go! Have a pina colada for me, don't come home with anything less than a full stoke on the surf trip, and do notice I cut my hair. Love, G
Today I saw the highs of toddler hood and I felt the lows. Summarized lows began with shrill, screeching words like, "But mommy I want that!" or "NO! NO! NO!" and crescendoed into even greater screaming and the added foot stomp. But it's the toddler "isms", the highlights, that make it all worth while. Shelby returned from a solo bathroom visit today and shared, "I said goodbye to the poopy, Mommy. And he said he'd come back again tomorrow." Then she picked up her purse, cocked her head and mumbled, "I'm just going for a little shop, now."
I think we are all having a down day. It's Monday-go figure. Earlier in the day, Shelby and I rocked out to Incubus after preschool with an ice cream cone and the wind in our hair (Ana was there, of course, providing background babble). But when we arrived home the mood turned sober, and then downright ornery. The neighbor girl got a real taste of what a "Shelby mood" is like today. All the lights were low at 6:43 and the ball finally dropped. I know this because we had not one, but two time outs leading up to this point. I officially confiscated more toys from my child than she ever knew she owned. I had been watching the clock more closely than usual as I witnessed the fall of my toddler on this historic spring day in California. 6:43 pm: let the snoring begin. And by 6:48, both kids were out. John and I looked at eachother for the first time in the evening and then looked around the house as if to say, "Now what?" And we really were at a loss for activity so I sat down to write and he headed to the coveted garage to polish his golf balls or wax his surfboards or whatever he does out there. Good night.
My husband has always been a man of action and few words when it comes to our marriage. His idea of showing me how much he loves me is mowing the lawn and cleaning our garage. You can see where the whole men are from mars thing applies here(Flowers? For what?). I left him with two sick kids today while I headed off for a girls day. In total, it added up to nearly 7 hours, including travel time, on a rainy day at home, alone with two sick kids. This combination was a sure bet for disaster, anybody would be nervous. When I jumped in the car to head back home today, I nervously dialed the house number as I noticed I'd missed two calls from him earlier in my kid-free day. Oh crap, what happened at 12:08 pm that he needed me? He answered in a hushed voice and informed me that they were down for a nap. BOTH KIDS? No F&#?!ING WAY! That only happens to the seasoned, blessed and ordained, card carrying lucky parent. Then he listed off his accomplishments with the bravado of a pro: swept the floors in the whole house, done three loads of laundry, the dishes, AND cleaned the garage so I could pull my car in during these rains. He added that he took the girls for a walk, played with Shelby and her sidewalk chalk, and painted their toenails (himself included). I swallowed all this information with gratitude and a healthy dose of disbelief. Hanging up, I spent the rest of my drive preparing myself for the certain tornado of a household upon my arrival. Surely he couldn't have found time to tidy the house, too! Well, I wouldn't call it it spotless, but the living room was a far cry from the pig sty I left this morning. I picked up Ana and instinctively checked her diaper. Surely he would have forgotten to change her diaper in all his haste to entertain kids and do house work... nope, a nearly dry diaper, too?! I swallowed my pride, expressed my sincere gratitude and secretly resolved to be a more efficient house wife and better mommy tomorrow. He has inspired me and showed me up simultaneously. At least he didn't say "It was so easy!". Clark Kent called, honey, he wants his tights back.