I’ve always prided myself on being a strong woman. I’m self-sufficient and have always been more of a crutch and less of a leaner. That was until this week. Jackson left on a business trip on Monday. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Nothing I haven’t survived on multiple occasions. But this time it’s different. It’s worse.
The children have broke me. What used to be sweet, kind, beautiful girls have turned into seizure-inducing, temper-provoking, monsters. I need Jackson home and tomorrow is not soon enough!
Day One with the Ingrates: “Mom, can we have pizza? We always need comfort food when Daddy leaves us.” I gave in. I bought pizza. They didn’t do anything, but finish off the leftovers before I got home the next day.
Day Two with the Monsters: Ten minutes before we are ready to leave the house that morning #3 announces that she doesn’t have any pants to wear except a pair of really tight ones. A few waistband adjustments and two jumping jacks later and we were back in the game. The children were all warned about the hectic evening - #1 & #2 had choir/orchestra/band concerts. I arrive home – the house is messy, the laundry I started on my way out the door didn’t get changed, the roast I put in the oven at 7:30am hasn’t been taken out, #2 was JUST getting in the shower, and #1 was leisurely reading in my room. Keep in mind we have one hour to get everyone dressed, fed, and out of the house. That’s only 60 minutes. In between my fits of rage, Jackson called to see how everything was going. He may have regretted that, but the girls were thankful for the break in the yelling. We attended the concerts where we lost #3 for only a short period of time. We returned home in time for dishes, showers, spelling tests, and bed.
Day Three with the Hellions: Another busy day ahead of us – I make the announcement in morning. We get to make supper for a family at church, #1 has confirmation class, and an all new episode of ANTM is scheduled to air right in the middle of the bringing and the getting. Keep in mind this is a task I usually split with Jackson so I don’t have to leave in the middle of the show. I thought for a brief minute about letting our 13 year-old drive herself. Her father’s been giving her lessons, I’m certain she could make it there safely. I’m just not sure what it does for her or my afterlife prospects, breaking laws on your way to the church – not really a chance I’m willing to take, but it was pretty touch-and-go for a few minutes. The girls picked out one of their favorite meals (chicken a la king). They suggested I make double so they can have dinner that night too. What do I look like? Their personal chef?! I left work early to stop by the store to pick up the groceries I needed. This turns in to 3 stops because the grocery store doesn’t have the cake I need and apparently WalMart is the only place that carries strawberries in November. I hate WalMart, but that’s a subject for several more posts. I arrive home to find the recycling barrel still at the street, the garage door wide open, the light on, and #2’s bike laying on the ground in the middle of it all. I walk past the gigantic picture window in our living room toting my purse, my computer, a bag of potatoes, two grocery sacks, and an angel food cake. I look like a regular pack mule. I make eye contact with two of my three daughters. Then I somehow manage to get the front door open with my foot. “DO YOU SEE ME WITH ALL THIS CRAP AND EVEN THINK YOU COULD OPEN THE DOOR?!” Let the fun begin! The laundry hasn’t been changed (again) and #1 is out on a bike ride with her friend. I don’t like being the screaming, raging, lunatic mom that small children run in fear from, so why don’t they do everything in their power to avoid getting yelled at? Would it kill you to change the laundry? Do you want to go to school naked? Can’t you see the enormous mess you made out of the living room? Do you really think I’m going to be okay with it? How long have you lived with me? We somehow managed to get dinner prepared (#2 and #3 even made the desserts), laundry got changed, food got delivered, #1 got to the church (and picked up), ANTM got viewed (for the most part), dishes got washed, the science project got assembled, spelling got reviewed, and the 8th grade English paper got brutally edited.
Day Four with the Spawns of Satan: Thursday morning is carpool. YEAH! This is a task Jackson typically owns – I’m not a morning person and I’m certainly not a butt-crack-of-dawn-with-seven-giggly-squeaky-tweens-for-four-miles kind of worman. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse… I walk into the house after work to find an eerie silence. Where are the children? Is it possible the little angels are outside getting some much-needed exercise? Uh, NO! I forgot to ask where #1 was when she showed up after dark, but #2 and #3 had taken some recently earned money and ran directly downtown to spend it on really important things like the Webkinz I told them to put on their Christmas lists and soda. I hadn’t even noticed Lucy was gone, but apparently they thought it would be a good idea to take our overweight dog with them. I’m not opposed to them walking the dog, but they rode their bikes and made her run the mile to town and back. It took her about an hour to quit panting. I truly thought she was going to die in the middle of the living room. Oh, how I was NOT prepared to deal with that. Not only did they frivolously spend their earnings, but they completely disregarded my ONE request this morning, “When you girls get home from school today you need to pick up your pigsty room”". While cleaning I overhear #2 and #3 bickering. As it turns out #3 has racked herself up ANOTHER library fine for overdue movies. She had been made aware of these overdue movies at least 2 days prior when she tried to check out a book and couldn’t. AND THE MOVIES REMAINED IN HER BOOKBAG EVEN AS I WAS SCREAMING AT HER FOR HER $35 FINE. That’s right, $35. For that, we should own the movies! I promptly made #3 ride her bike back uptown to return the DVD’s. Upon her return the library called to say they were missing one of the discs (funny how they couldn’t call to say they were racking up late fees at the speed of light, but the instant they have a cover with no disc my phone is ringing off the hook). So, back on her bike and back uptown. I’m not really sure how she’s going to pay off that fine, but I truly don’t care. I’m not paying for it and neither is her father. He covered the last $18 fine and I will NOT cover another one. The evening has calmed down significantly with two spelling test reviews, dishes washed, dried, and put away, and three little girls all tucked in their beds.
Jackson, come back to me. I was not cut out to be a single mom! I can’t parent YOUR children alone.
