And So Swirls the Toilet Like Days of Our Lives

It’s always a shock to the system when one parent is left to handle the household alone for a couple of days when you're accustomed to splitting up the duties.  Often, we think we are dividing and conquering the tasks of running a household of five, but truly—our children divide and conquer us.

When I came home from work yesterday, my middle child, my darling Jamie was bouncing off the walls.  He was giddy and silly.  My three children and I, plus Phoebe the guinea pig, sat on my bed chatting.  Jamie was insanely silly.  (I won’t even go into the stories he was sharing, I’ll just say I was floored.  When Jeff returns home, he’ll have to handle that business.)  But Jamie broke out into a laughing fit.  Reminding me of myself as I had those constantly as a child.  Something gets you laughing so hard that you cannot stop.  He laughed for about 10 minutes straight and then all the sudden he started crying.  Bizarre, I tell you.  I dismissed the other two children, and Phoebe the guinea pig, and tried to get Jamie to tell me what was on his mind.  It boiled down to him missing his father.  We talked, crisis averted.  I thought.

I begin making dinner, as I quickly realize these kids need bed as soon as possible.  I get everything started and get the kids looking for a movie we can watch during dinner.  We typically eat at the dinner table, but I thought it would be something special.  And it was.  We all laughed as we ate and watched a hilarious Psych episode (Last Night Gus, HI-LAR-I-OUS!)  Abby actually ate the pork chop AND the stuffing.  Miracles do happen! “Mommy, this is so yummy!”  Who kidnapped my picky-eating child and replaced her with this lovely creature?  After dinner, we played a little bit, and I started the task of cleaning up—WHICH I ABHORE. While doing the dishes, a report comes from downstairs that Jamie has clogged one of our toilets.  I rolled my eyes and refused to go down there.  I’ll deal with that later.  “Okay, Jamie, let’s use less TP.  And let’s finish the homework.”  As I’m standing in the kitchen finishing up the dishes, I hear Jamie crying—AGAIN.  He can’t do his homework.  Abby is playing with her dolls and Sam is watching football.  “Jamie, what is going on?”  I ask.  “I don’t know,” he whimpers.    “Alright, let’s get this done,” I said, and I sat down beside him, helping him through the homework.  We also talked a little more and I found out he’s having some friend troubles.  We talked it out and I gave some decent advice. I think.

I managed to convince Abby to go to bed.  She was all ready to jump in the bed when she looked at me with this huge, awkward smile “I miss daddy,” she says, and I see what’s getting ready to happen.  “I know baby, but he’s having fun with Uncle Del and he’ll be home soon.”  I hug her, trying to console her BEFORE it starts.  But to no avail, she begins balling her eyes out.  There we sit, in the floor of her room, she’s all out ugly crying and I’m wondering how in the world I’m going to get these kids in bed.  Just as quickly as the tears started, they stopped.  She climbed into the bed.  We chatted about her day and she told me how much she loved me.  I, feeling so exhausted and bleary eyed, just sat there and let her play with my hair.  She began smiling and we talked about loving each other to the moon and back.  She laughed when I said I loved her more and said “what does that mean?”  “It means you have no idea just how much I love you!”  We hugged, kissed, Eskimo kissed and I told her I’d be back to check on her after I got Jamie in the bed. One down, two to go.

Now, it’s time to go downstairs.  Sam is picking on Jamie about the toilet.  Oh the toilet, shoot.  I go in the bathroom and stand there not knowing what to do.  Part of me wants to save it for Jeff when he returns, but part of me wants to prove that I can handle this on my own.  I step out of the bathroom and say to the boys “I really don’t know what to do.”  Sam says “Call mi Padre, he always knows what to do.” I thought to myself:  yes, this is true, Jeff always know what to do.  So, I decided I’d handle the toilet.  I flushed it.  STUPID.  It began over-flowing and I began jumping around in the water, screaming and laughing, as did Sam, my supporter.  Jamie jumped on his bed, out of the way.  I quickly braved the elements and turned the water valve off.  Idiot, you should have plunged FIRST, trying to avoid the inevitable just cost you big time.

As a surgeon calls out to the scrub nurse, I began giving orders.  

Jamie, towels.

Bleach.

Sam, plunger.

Gloves.

I’m going in…

Not only did I unclog the toilet, I scrubbed the floor with bleach and began disinfecting the towels.  Of course, I gave orders NOT to use that bathroom while dad is gone.  I tucked Jamie in the bed.  “It was a rough afternoon, but we all have them.  I love you so much and am so proud to be your mom!” We hugged, kissed and said our good nights.  I hugged Sam, the supporter, and said “We make a good team. Thanks for everything!”  We exchanged love you’ s and good night. Two down.

Up the stairs I went, completely ignoring the HUGANTIC pile of clean laundry needing to be folded on the couch.  That must wait until tomorrow.  Oh, I forgot to do devotions with Sam, shoot. He needs sleep, tomorrow. I checked on Abby, she's out. I proceeded back to the kitchen for the umpteenth time to finish the dishes and begin packing lunches.  It’s 9pm and I’m figuring I might be done in time to watch a little non-sensical something or other on the TV.  Sam comes upstairs, startling me; he needed to use the bathroom.  When he comes out, I ask him to sit with me for a minute—perfect, let’s do devotions.  We read through them and we chat a little.  It’s so good to have this time with him.  We prayed together and again laughed about the events of the evening.  He’s truly growing into a fine young man.  “Thank you so much for helping me tonight,” I say, as I give him a high five.  He laughs and says he hopes I never have to do that again.  And something about how he can’t wait for dad to get home.  Hugs, kisses, good night again. Three down, me to go.

I go back to the kitchen to pack lunches.  Laying everything I out, I write notes for each of my children, instructing them for the morning and telling them I love them and hope they have a great day. I leave the cereal and bowl out for Jamie, cereal WITH marshmallows in a baggie for Abby and a note to Sam to eat yogurt for breakfast, don’t skip it!  Done.  Am I done?  Yes, I must be done.  I left some lights on throughout the house, in case Abby (or I) wake in the night.  I’m too tired to brush my teeth, gross—I KNOW, but I need sleep more.  So I crawl into the bed and I set the alarm. Ah, sleepy time. Down she goes.

Of course, I couldn’t fall asleep.  I watched some TV.  I finally fell asleep only to wake to Abby at 1:30AM.  Her leg hurt and she missed daddy.  Oh, yes, of course.  I fetched the Tylenol and I told her daddy would be home before she knew it.  She tossed and turned—so restless. We both fell asleep and we both woke at 3:45AM when the dog Margo was apparently having a doggy nightmare.  “What is that sound?” says Abby in her sleepy voice.  “I think its Margo.  I’ll check.”  It was Margo and she was fine.  I climbed back it the bed completely exhausted and so wanting sleep.  But I couldn’t sleep.  My alarm sounded at 5AM. Yay.

It has been a long time since I’ve been left on the home front to handle the affairs alone—Jeff is rarely gone overnight or for multiple days, unlike our early years when he traveled a great deal for weekend events, leaving the family behind.  Those days, I attempted to be a “stay at home” mom.   It was tough and I hated it.  Kudos to those of you parents who are of the “stay at home” persuasion.  It is not an ability I was gifted with.  I struggled for years with the fact that everyone in the world told me I should be at home with my children.  I gave up that struggle as I am fully aware having been both a stay at home parent and a working parent, I’m far better as a human being when I work.  We each must recognize our strengths and weaknesses.  So, good for you if it’s a gift God has blessed you with.  You stay at home parents, you fight battles daily that you are committed to and called to fight.  Good for you for following your calling and using your gifts. 

But I, the working mom, am not so bad.  I feel like the working mom, in general, gets little credit for what she offers her family and the world. Not only do I do tasks at home and with the children, I also work full-time (and go to school full-time).  But that’s how I’m wired—that’s who I was created to be.  More than anything, I’m so thankful for a spouse who truly helps me.  We work together, most days, to accomplish all that needs to happen within any given day. 

So yes, I think single parents are so totally awesome.  If I could give extra arms or plumbers for life, I sure would.  But seriously, if you ever need help—I may not be the best, but I’ll stand and scream and jump around with you while your toilet overflows.  Eventually I’ll pull myself together in attempts to help you, I promise.

Today I’m tired, but I’m so in love with my life that I cannot stand it.  Wonder Woman I am not, yesterday was truly a gift.  I had individual time with each of my kids AND we made some wicked memories!

Let’s do it again today-- sans the toilet fiasco.