Well, hello again readers!
Did you finish reading my 4,000+ word post I added half an hour ago? No? Well too bad. I have something else I want to talk to you about now and it can’t wait.
This weekend Husband is leaving me alone with the kids for what I hope is the last time this year. Normally I whine and complain about how hard it’s going to be, but I never ever say no. Not because I have no backbone. In fact, I probably have too much backbone and I don’t know when to back down or keep my mouth shut. I need to come up with a new term for too much backbone. Stiff spined? Maximum backsimum? eh. Those are lame. I’ll think of something sooner or later.
Moving on. I let him go because he deserves a break just as much as I do. He can only handle about half as much “parenting” as I can before he’s ready to throw our kids out the window. Patience has always been a strong point of his, but I think I max his patience out pretty quickly and he doesn’t have much left to deal with the kids with a level head. (To quote Kristina from Parenthood, “I’m sorry I’m psycho honey.”).
All of the guys in his family and a few family friends gather in central Wisconsin at his Grandparent’s house. There’s around I believe 100 acres of private land to hunt on and three other houses/lodgings located on the land. The guys stay at one of the other houses. During the daytime hours they spread out and hang out in tree stands all day long hoping to shoot a deer, then come nightfall they drink, play cards and be jolly obnoxious kids again. I think it’s a great tradition. guys need to be guys. I’ve never had a problem with Husband going away and doing this.
This year I was a little bit apprehensive because of the three kids, but thankfully I have been alone with them all on another weekend so I had an idea of what to expect. I graciously agreed, and after work today he will head straight up north.
I am officially alone until Sunday.
Now, let me tell you why I regret letting him go this year.
First, there was the whole Children’s trip a few days ago that wore my patience and energy down to a pulp.
Then, for the last two days, my sleep had been all off kilter. Two nights ago I didn’t get to sleep until 4:30 AM. Last night I didn’t get to bed until about 2:30 AM.
This resulted in me being very tired yesterday morning, and incapable of functioning as a human being this morning. Husband shook me awake when he left for work to get one last hug and kiss goodbye before the weekend and told me he heard Buddy talking to himself upstairs. Hinting for me to go get him up. I fought to open my eyes a crack with every ounce of my energy and grunted in acknowledgement.
As soon as husband left the room, I must have fallen right back asleep. The next thing I knew, Buddy was on the bed and pouncing on me.
I started awake and sat there looking at a giggling, and more importantly, free Buddy.
Uhhh… did Husband let him out anyway? I noted the time and saw it was about half an hour after Husband had initially woken me up.
I shrugged and got out of bed before I fell back asleep again. I changed Buddy and we went into the kitchen to make him some breakfast while we waited for his sisters to get up. After preparing his breakfast and setting him up, I poured myself a nice hot cup of coffee and pulled out a chair to join Buddy and chat.
I didn’t actually get to the table though. The second my big fat 135 pound ass touched the chair it completely collapsed under me. Collapsed! Before I knew what happened I was sprawled on the ground and my coffee was dripping down the kitchen wall. By some miracle it had missed both Buddy and me. Buddy, of course, thought he had just witnessed the funniest trick on the world and was dying laughing at the table and telling me, “more! more!” in between giggles.
Now I had a huge problem. I had a broken chair, a broken ego and most importantly, no coffee.
How in the WORLD did I just smash a chair at only 135 pounds, you ask? Simple, make sure it’s already broken. Husband and I got our mismatched kitchen table and chair for free from a coach of his while he was still in college. It’s a decent table and chairs, but it’s obviously worn down. Some of the bars that hold the chair together on a couple of chairs have been falling out lately and the chairs will creak dangerously when we sit down. We’ve just been popping them back in and forgetting about it. It was honestly only a matter of time before this happened.
I just wish it had happened on any other day than today. Now I had to fix this damn thing myself. I went into the basement and got the biggest strongest nail I could find and grabbed a hammer. Better yet, I grabbed a couple more nails just to be safe. I hammered the legs back together and plopped defiantly back down on the same chair with another cup of coffee.
I win. Dammit.
The girls finally woke up and I tended to them without any excitement or strange happenings.
The big dilemma that makes me wish husband stayed home came when it was nap time for Buddy.
I put him down like I normally would. He goes down at the same time every day. He whines for about five minutes then falls asleep on his own. I don’t coddle him or give him a nuk or tuck him in special or lay with him until he falls asleep. I put him down and get back to my business. It’s always worked out really well. (I’m aware of how lucky I’ve been with nap time.)
Well, today he kept whining longer than usual. I ignored it and figured he’d eventually fall asleep. I plopped down in our recliner in the living room, which is directly under his bedroom, to catch up on the computer. Suddenly heard the most horrifying sound in the world.
It was the sound of my son falling out of his crib. I remember an acquaintance of mine describing how she felt when she heard that sound for the first time. She said, “I hoped it was a robber breaking in. Anything but my son getting out of the crib!”
Now, I can completely understand what she meant when she said that.
Oh. My. God.
I knew the nightmare my son had just unleashed on me. Not only for this weekend, but probably for every nap time and bed time from here on out until he’s old enough to stay in bed on his own.
I listened helplessly as his little footsteps ran across the ceiling and thumped down the stairs. Then, there he was, tear-stained and smiling. My darling little Buddy. My little escape artist.
Here we go.
I hoisted myself out of the recliner and took him back upstairs. As soon as he realized I was putting him back in his prison, he started screaming and thrashing violently. The second I put him in his rib, he started to climb out. I stopped him, told him, “I’m sorry sweetie, but you have to stay here and take your nap.” Then silently walked out of the room, leaving behind a very angry and defiant toddler.
This went on for another two hours.
Do you realize how long that is?!
Oh. My. God.
In the meantime I’m trying to take care of two very pissed off girls. They hate when I walk out of the room, but I have to in order to put Buddy back in his crib. Eventually I did something I saw on Supernanny. I just sat on the floor in his room with my back facing him. He didn’t try to get out, and eventually he fell asleep.
My nerves are shot.
This weekend is going to be a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. Maximum backsimum can’t help me here. What I need is a glass of wine. Maybe a bottle. Maybe two.