Well, I’ve Only KINDA Ruined Summer
On Friday, the bomb fell.
“Hey Becky, did you know (insert name of preschool teacher) is gone all next week?”
Whaaaaaa?
No. No I HADN’T known, although that was likely due to the holes Topamax left in my brain. I’d remembered hearing rumblings of a “summer vacation” but when I realized that it was, in fact, now June (rather than the March I’d been convinced it was), I shit my pants. No, not literally – I have excellent bowel control.
WOAH. That got awkward fast.
Anyway.
Me + 2 squirmy kids + no back-up plan + Mysterious Oregon Trail Disease = copious amounts of vodka and a wagon wheel.
It’s not that I don’t love my children fiercely – I do. I’d do just about anything for those tiny germ-infested crotch parasites. Anything except stay at home day in and day out with them. It’s not that I don’t find them charming, amusing (insert your own positive adjective here), it’s that after three rounds of playing Princess Pinkey Pie, I’m ready for several drinks and some private time in the bathroom.
I wasn’t cut out to be a stay at home parent, however, since I work at home, when childcare gets fucked up or someone gets sick, it’s my ass that has to stop what I’m working on and shove my parenting hat back on.
But a whole week? While I’m coughing up what appears to be small tree frogs every other minute? Sleeping 18 hours a day WITHOUT Green Death Nyquil cocktails? Feeling as though I’m wandering around through a sea of orange Jello? I’m probably not up for the whole parenting three kids for eleventy-nine hours a day; even if I can manage to postpone my work*.
I loathe admitting that I cannot do something, but in this case, the Mysterious Oregon Trail Disease has left my brain full of holes one could probably drive a truck through, should they be so inclined. When I told Daver I wasn’t quite up to parenting the crotch parasites, I expected a lot of teeth gnashing, hand-wringing and other such behaviors. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised.
“I’ll take them up to my parents house!” Dave practically cheered, as I sat back, aghast. His enthusiasm was as though I’d offered him a night of hookers and blow, which, while it can be found in Milwaukee, would probably not sit well with my uber-conservative in-laws (although, to be fair, I do not know this for a fact – they could have a meth lab in their basement for all I know).
This morning, they left for my in-laws. Probably not to manufacture meth, but that’s speculation on my part.
The house, it’s eerily quiet.
I realized, while sitting here drinking my coffee while trying not to choke on my own spittums, that this is the first time I’ve actually been sans children for more than a couple of hours.
I used to laugh at people who got all, “OH MY BAY-BEE IS ALL GROWDS UP!” not in a cruel way, but because my children had temperaments that would make even the most seasoned of parents lose their hairs. If you look up the textbook definition of a “difficult” or “slow-to-warm up” child, you’d see photographs of my children. They’re wonderful people, but they require a metric fuckton of patience. Most kids do.
And I’m not going to lie and say that I’ll be up all night prostrate (not prosTATE) with grief, but you know what? It’s been 3 hours and already I miss those little buggers.
Rather than sit around moping, I’m gonna grab one of Daver’s bizness shirts, some sunglasses and go all air-guitar to some Bob Segar.
Why?
Because I fucking can.
*Real work, not the dancing slug videos.
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How’s summer treating YOU, Pranksters?
Hot, dry and a bit smoky.
I’ve been riding my bike way early in the morning.
Can’t wait for the dry lightening storms so the whole place finally burns to the ground.
Typical summer, so far.
I totally know what you mean… I get like that too when daycare plans somehow fall through… no good!
i love you and not only because I thought it was march too, but just for being you. you don’t know it but you have enriched mine and so many others’ lives by what you do every day with your blog, with BBT. you’re awesome.
figured I might as well tell you because it might be another eleventy hundred years before I get back to commenting. enjoy your week & feel better!!!
Dear Auntie,
I really wish either you or I lived closer. I would so take your children to my house and babysit them anytime your childcare fell through, especially with the kids being my cousins and all.
Yesterday I had an an automobile accident. There were no fatalities except for my mom’s car. I have major bumps and bruises, a slight concussion, a couple of not terribly significant fractures, and a bloody nose from the airbag that caused me possibly to ruin one of my favorite shirts, I wasn’t at fault in the accident, however, and I even had permission to use the car, so no one can really be angry with me. I’ll probably be released from the hospital tomorrow. My uncle is trying to rescue the bloody shirt. He doesn’t do a lot of laundry, but he’s an MD, so he presumably has at least a minimal grasp of chemistry.
My parents are in Australia. They had plans to travel on to New Zealand. Those plans have since been scrapped even though I lobbied hard for my parents to continue with their vacation as scheduled. Still it will be a couple of days before they can make it home, as they’re pretty far into the outback. They have to grab up all their jumbucks, shove them into tuckerbags, and find their way across across many billabongs before they can even board a plane to travel home by way of Singapore. I told my parents to be really careful about graffiti or vandalism in Singapore because they might be caned for it if they get caught. They spoke to me as though they believed I had suffered brain damage from the concussion. They forget that I’m always like this.
Anyway, my typist is growing tired, so I must end this rambling message. Write lots of exciting things, because I’ll being lying around for the next several weeks reading and watching TV.
Your niece,
Alexis
P. S. Any misspellings in this post are entirely the fault of my typist.
P.S. Exactly who in hell do preschool teachers think they’re fooling when they announce they’re taking vacations? Everyone who has ever been a preschooler knows perfectly well that preschool teachers have no real lives. They exist solely as teachers, not as actual human beings. They live at school and sleep in the classroom, probably on or under kidney tables, in sleeping bags that are stored away in a closet by day. They eat whatever snacks the preschoolers leave behind.. For entertainment, they play with the puzzles and other toys. If they shower at all, they do so on the playground with a hose.
Vacations for preschool teachers are pure and simple bullshit.
My summer so far was installing my air conditioning last night…….because I’m a procrastinator and I HAD to wait until it was 39c outside. Personaly I don’t mind the heat (I love it) but my poor feline roommate is starting to feel it (I would too if I had that much fur). So yesterday, air conditioning and tonight……..I’m shaving him Mouhahahahahaha (He’ll thank me late).
This summer sucks balls.
As of Friday, school’s out and I’m the sole provider of entertainment for mah two kids. Since I’d rather they not spend the summer in their undies making bizarre fake characters for the Wii (my son made a butler, but it isn’t Mr. Sprinkles), I need to come up with some ideas for activities. Also kinda dreading the bickering/tattling/throwing of punches.
Once in a while dad takes them to his parents’ cottage, and though I could do a million fun things, all I can do is think about how far away mah babies are from me. WTF?