“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
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?