My husband left yesterday morning for an overnight camping trip with our son. He LEFT, people. With only ONE KID. Which means of course, according to the laws of arithmetic and poor family planning, I was home alone with FOUR GIRLS. Around 4pm I was beginning to wonder how many girls would be left when he returned.
It’s completely unjust. Not only have I spent the whole work week singlehandedly taking care of these clowns, there is no relief even on the weekend. And. And. And…Alice is sick. She has what I loving refer to as a $35 virus. You know: high fever, no other symptoms, you go to the pediatrician and they say, “Yep. It’s a virus. That’ll be $35.” All of this is to say that while she’s very cute and pitiful, she’s also EXTREMELY whiny and demanding, and I’m not allowed to get angry because, well, she’s SICK, and even I’m not willing to be that bad of a mother.
So, last night I went to sleep at 1am. This was after watching the fourth Harry Potter movie with Zoë (pausing a bazillion times to shut down the upstairs slumber party, administer ibuprofen, change pee-pee sheets, etc.) while nursing a well deserved, but perhaps ill-advised third glass of wine. When I woke up this morning at 7am I was TIRED, and maybe just a little reticent to admit that I really was the mother of five children who would require me to do something today. So I did what any
lazy self-respecting woman would do. I hid in my bed.
The little girls kept coming in trying to get me to oh, I don’t know, mother them, and I kept trying to get them to snuggle with me or, alternately, leave me the hell alone. Eventually they did.
When I finally emerged from my room at 8am, this is what I found waiting for me downstairs:
Chocolate chip scones made by my 11 year old daughter. God bless Google. God bless Zoë. She’d even made coffee. I think I’m gonna keep that one, y’all. See, I told you neglecting your kids can pay off.
But just in case you think this is going to be one of those, “look at my lovely life, read ’em and weep” posts, fear not. Oh no. Let me tell you why I got out of bed.
After listening to the screaming and fighting and laughing and singing that happened between the hours of 7am and 7:50am, I became aware of a sudden difference in tenor. Over the monitor I heard Juliette pleading, “Please, Alice. Could you please just pull my foot? No, pull harder. No, harder! Oh man, dis is ridiculous. Can anyone help me? Please? Anybody?”
So, I crawled out of bed and dragged myself down the hall to the girls’ room. And what did I find?
Ummm. About that neglecting your children thing I was saying…
She had fallen into the laundry hamper while trying to build “a cave” with blankets. That crayon on the dresser? Don’t ask. Just trust me, I know God loves us because someone invented Magic Erasers.
Not to worry, she was still in good spirits.
Trapped, but happy. Kind of like me.
Happy Sunday, y’all, from my circus to yours. Here’s hoping that if you’re up to your ass in laundry, you have chocolate waiting for you somewhere on the other side.