I’ve said this many times, mostly while in a rec complex change room trying to get one child (perhaps two) ready for a lesson while one (or perhaps two) work their hardest at trying my patience, closing themselves in dirty lockers, insisting on using the facility’s pee-stained toilet despite having just left the house or crying because the other moms who love their children let them eat the junk from the vending machine. It’s at this point I usually realize the child who is meant to be in the pool is without a towel, shampoo, a bathing suit or most of the necessary items required to make this exercise at all pleasant.
Being a single parent must be exhausting.
This week, I had a small taste of what it would be like trying to handle things on my own while Greg was busy at off-site meetings.
This morning, I took on the morning breakfast, hair-combing, teeth-brushing, getting kids dressed, packing lunches, making beds, changing diapers, feeding formula, filling out copious amounts of school forms in addition to collecting and taking out the garbage and recycling.
It was dark and stinky in the garage at 5:55am and I was a bit jittery about the morning creatures, raccoons, coyotes, bears that might jump at the opportunity to visit an open garage, oozing with dirty diapers and partially rinsed out yogurt containers.
I bent down to lift the bag out of the green bin and was hit in the head by the strategically placed golf ball on a string meant to prevent me from hitting Greg’s precious weed whacking supplies and collection of several hundred swag golf umbrellas when I drive the champagne mini-van in.
I thought I was being attacked by a bat….who wouldn’t? So after a couple of swift high-kicks and frantic punches to the air, I managed to quiet myself and drag the pre-paid bags to the curb.
I returned to a seven year old who had lost the ability to put on socks unassisted and a four year old emerging from her bedroom while proudly announcing, “I’m wearing the dress I wore to Great Grandma’s funeral to school today.”
Hanna decided to pester the baby by using her plush, stuffed owl to peck at her face with the faux leather beak every once and again making contact with the hard plastic eyes on the baby’s nose causing her to squeal with frustration.
I explained my situation to a couple of girlfriends who suggested I let the laundry wait and leave the toys on the floor rather than stress about trying to do everything. Oh girls, there’s no exposed carpet from all the toys and I am pulling clothes out of the dryer on an as needed basis.
Greg enters, after a long week of meetings. He finds us through the pile of rubble and discusses the scotch and cigar he enjoyed the prior evening.
I’m not sure what they taught at this conference but KNOWING YOUR AUDIENCE was obviously not on the agenda.