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Yes, in theory I understand this is not a vacation. I’m jealous anyway.
I had a near-death experience last week. My husband went on a business trip. I thought I was going to die. I may have. It went that well.
I am fully aware that there are parents who do this all the time. Parents whose spouses travel on a regular basis and manage to get through the week without acting as though as national crisis of epic proportions has touched down within their home. Moreover, there are those amazing souls who raise kiddos alone, 24/7, 365 days a year. I bow to them, am in awe of them, and am left resonating the one single question, “HOW DO SINGLE PARENTS DO IT?”. Without exaggeration, you deserve a standing ovation every time you manage to leave the house. I understand that this is nothing short of an act of God.
I don’t entirely know what happened last week. I remember a lot of screaming and a lot of Curious George. I recall feeling like it was a major accomplishment when I saw that the refrigerator door had been left open and not only did I notice it, I actually managed to close it too. Yeah, I’m just that amazing.
I learned some things this past week though, so it wasn’t a total wash.
I learned that my bladder is stronger than I previously thought. During desperate attempts to sneakily check my e-mails before rolling out of bed in the morning and chance waking the kids, I was able to sustain my wanting-to-be-fed 70 lb. chocolate lab repeatedly jumping on my gut without peeing my pants. Maybe it’s not yet time for those Depends after all? Good news!
I learned that the silent treatment can still be a very effective relationship tool. As in, when my husband told me he was eating breakfast on a pier in LA overlooking the water and catching up on e-mails, it was more effective for to not speak to him for the rest of the day vs. sending a hit man to kill him. Excuse me darling, while I go scrub some poop off my hand, honey, and then I will be tickled to hear more about your paradise.
I learned that I will not scare away my friends when I text them and tell them that they are going to have adopt my children. I have fallen completely in love with the sweet, sweet friend who offered to bring me dinner, the friend who let my kids crawl all over her at Chick Fil-A, my sister who is willing to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks for the 300th time, the friend who reassured me that my daughter was not dying of a brain tumor (hey, she had a bump on her neck), and the friend let me babble my woes over e-mail all week without telling me to shut up. Crap, I’m a drama queen and now hate myself.
I learned that a glass of wine and catching up on old episodes of Revenge by yourself late at night when you are too tired to sleep is a lot of fun. A lot of fun. Oh darn, am I actually saying that I might look forward to parts of this if my husband abandons me again?
I learned that it’s kind of neat when my husband comes home. I sort-of missed him. And how I sort of get a free pass to sleep in the next day? Um yeah, that was kind of cool. But not worth it.
And yes, I am now seeking PTSD counseling after the whole ordeal.
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