So i’m in the home stretch of my husband’s loooooong business trip. Three weeks being El Solo Parento.
My mom does live here, so i DO realize it could be MUCH worse. I had a five week stint totally solo in May in Austin before the move that I can recall vividly.
However, that isn’t helping me now. Weekends are a little stir crazy with everyone in the house. I get an itch around Sunday to go out for milk and just keep on going. .. you know, to go find a farm… like in Oregon. And then i’d have to pick out the exact right Dairy Cow to milk… then i’d have to stop and shop and get lunch and take the scenic route home… with the milk.
Hey, kids need milk, right?!
I can only make colored pasta/paints/paper/and bowls of water entertaining for so long. Beyond that it’s just arguing and fighting and pushing and eating and pooping and making messes.
Motherhood is much more magical and special when you have a teammate to tag in. That way you can observe from afar… like the other room.
š
I suppose i am proof that there are all sorts of ways to be a mom. I’m not getting any awards, certainly, but i like to think my kids know how to have fun and silly and play and when it counts, they have manners.
And at the end of the day, i’m human.
The tantrums wear on my nerves
The bickering gets under my skin
The snakes grow out of my hair.
Thank heavens for crock pots. It makes me feel like i’ve really invested time and effort into a meal and my role as a domestic goddess is restored… at least for that night.
And now, instead of creating world-moving prose, i have to go change a poopy diaper.
Sarcasmica 