"You're not gonna be happy about this AT ALL..." Frank said as he carried in three bottles of wine and a large bag of chocolate. "I have to go out of town...tomorrow...for three days!"
I don't remember what I said exactly, but I think it started with an eff word and ended with an eff word. Knowing me, there were probably a few more liberally sprinkled in the middle. I'm headed into what appears to be the longest, busiest, most stressful week of my life. Perhaps I'm exaggerating a little, but really, the upcoming week is going to be hell. And honestly, please tell me, am I the only mom who is a tad bit panicked by the thought of being alone with her small children for days on end with practically no contact with the outside world and a limited supply of alcohol?!?!
God didn't make me the 'super responsible, menu planning, house cleaning, laundry folding, obsessive compulsive, everything is fucking matching and look, I have makeup on, too' mom. That's the mom I wanna kick in the teeth because she makes everything look so frigging easy (I have a theory about those moms-- and it begins and ends with a little thing called 'methamphetamine') He made me the 'let's play tattoo shop with the magic markers because what I really want to do is lay out in the backyard while my kids draw on my feet and fetch me exotic blender drinks from the kitchen' mom. Or maybe the 'let's make blanket tents in the dining room so I can sleep off my mid morning alcohol buzz' mom. I'm just joking about all the drinking, but I'm not about the other stuff- when I had my sweet children, nobody told me I'd have to eventually take care of them...alone.
My kids are...well, they're my kids. Which means that in addition to being high maintenance pains in the ass, they're also HUGE high maintenance pains in the ass. They can't do anything without an appreciative audience- and they can't let me do anything without an appreciative audience. They're messy. Like, me on steroids multiplied by infinity messy. I will occasionally be disgusted by my own messiness enough to clean up my general living area. They could live in a junkyard with a booger wall and be totally happy.
And when Frank is gone, they just seem to suck up all the free space that he leaves behind. The littlest Baby C slept for approximately 4 hours last night, none of them continuous. He hasn't done that since he was a baby. What. The. Hell.
Does it add insult to injury that Frank is in my happy place (a hotel with a MAID and room service) and he is getting to sleep in until daylight and go out to fancy dinners AND exercise in a real live gym without two children hanging onto his sweatpants and sparkly Uggs while he's trying to put on a little black eyeliner for the love of God and all that is Holy?!?!?! AND, if that isn't enough, he's in the same state with THE AUNT- you know the one I talk about all the time?!?!
I think the answer to the question is 'yes', but to be totally honest, I forgot the question and the other moms are hogging all the meth and now I need a nap.