“Sure honey, go ahead and go out on the road for a week. We could use the extra money and I know how much you love to work washed up rock and roll shows at county fairs. I can survive seven days with the boys, we’ve done it before.”
All I could think of for seven days was “I f$%#ing agreed to what??””” If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m pregnant right now and therefore not drinking, I would have thought that I must have been drunk to say yes.
The Skeptic is back now. Here’s the short list of what happened in our week:
-exploding plumbing under the sink
-two year molars + possible weird ear infection resulting in fever and massive screaming three nights in a row, plus intensive clinginess all week long
-the death (AGAIN, how many freaking times can I have this happen?) of my computer
-massive temps and humidity but me with no air conditioning (we couldn’t find the foam inserts that keep the bats out, I thought bats in the house would be extra, extra bad, so I said don’t put them in the windows yet)
-general bedtime mayhem plus pregnancy hormones that left Knittykid saying “Are you okay Mommy?” as Little Man hid under his blankets
-cat diarrhea
I’ll stop there, but you get the drift. There were fun moments, I managed to get both boys and both dogs down to my parents for the weekend, which helped a great deal. And somehow things managed to settle down by Thursday (maybe I was the five hours of TV I gave into for Little Man). By the time the Skeptic got home I was actually somewhat cheerful and in a good mood again. Which he was happy about, since the last time he called me I told him “If someone came over and broke both of my legs right now it would be a relief.”
Okay, maybe it wasn’t THAT bad. But to my Skeptic: Let’s keep the shows local for the rest of the summer, okay?
Knittymama 