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.
