Imprisoned in the House of Sick – A Saturday in June

The biggest challenge for me, as a temporary single parent of young children, is leaving the house becomes an execution of strategy and planning.  Since the children obviously cannot be left alone, they must accompany me everywhere.   Constant companionship is a challenge for me as well.  Add sickness.  I can’t really go anywhere being a responsible citizen mama and limiting exposure.  The situation is not bad enough yet to seek relief.   The house, however, is beginning to feel like a prison.

Handsome Little Man has an upset stomach. 

We attempted to break free.  After he slept off  episode one for most of the morning and he ate a small lunch and claimed to feel much better, we all set off for fresh air.  Destination: Washington Harbor to walk along the Potomac.  Parking was hard to come by and before I could find a space, Little Man began to complain again.  *sigh* I don’t want a repeat incident away from home.  Back home we go.

Sometimes my motherhood experience feels like near constant vexation, punctuated with moments of joy.  I wish it were the other way around!

We made it home, just in time.  Thankfully, Little Man is being a good sport of it, with no whining.

Already this morning, I have dealt with a vomiting boy, spilled apple juice on the sofa cushion, and urine on the living room floor (although I was asking for it.  I let Diva Darling run around nude.  Potty training does not begin in earnest until after the move and we are settled).  It’s the constant clean-up that I object to.  I like clean, just not the cleaning.

Relief is en route.  However, we are not going to attempt prison break #2.  I texted the Hubby to take a taxi home.

I’m now planning my temporary escape when relief does come.  Due to the pending move 3 days away (3 days away!), our cupboards are quite bare and definitely out of stock of necessary upset stomach comfort foods and drinks.  My escape will include a quick kid-free trip to Safeway, a guilt-free snarfing of some fattening ice cream product like a Wendy’s frosty, and 10 minutes of quiet somewhere, soaking in the fresh non-humidity air and sunshine.

Good times, people!  Good times!

Does everyone have this much fun and life challenges daily as me, but I'm the only one who broadcasts my woe-is-me attitude?  Or do I just have bad mojo??

In the Middle of Crazy...My Schedule, Not State of Mind (at least not yet)

I’m taking a moment to pause.  To breathe.  To rest. 

I’m in the middle of crazy, but I don’t want to become crazed in the process.  The to-do list is relentless: birthday party planning, hubby homecoming (after a year apart), seeing friends one last time and moving in 4 weeks!

Handsome Little Man celebrated his birthday last week.  Although I do enjoy party planning, I just didn’t have the strength or brainpower to plan every detail for his party this year, especially since we weren't sure if his Daddy would return in time for it.  I can work myself up with the details.  See post from last year.  In this neighborhood, birthday parties are very much a big deal.  Not necessarily a spectacle, but still a money-plunking adventure requiring action and a long invitee list.  Oh no, this is not just a party at the house with a bunch of friends, cake and a few games.  It’s a fairly big production:  Think laser tag, gymnastics, bouncy obstacle courses.  Or themed house parties.  The couple of home parties the boy has attended included a Science Show where they watched a scientist conduct experiments, and a secret spy party to include an obstacle course in the backyard.  Parents of Arlington love a good theme! 

I could have put a stop to the crazy, the keeping up with the Joneses.  I could have emphasized celebration in simplicity.  But I didn’t.  I want the boy to have the party he wants, which at first was a party at the house with a CHIMA Lego theme.  This request was met with an emphatic no.  Our house without a good yard would be a tad too tight for a bunch of energetic boys celebrating.  His alternate request was a party at Pump It Up.  I thought this idea was fantastic, more so because they do everything, down to the parting gift bags.  I was responsible for sending out invitations online and handing over my credit card at the end. Pricey but worth it. (And of course, thank you notes, which Birthday Boy is working on.  He’s not allowed to open gifts until the thank you notes are written.). 

Birthday Boy is a sweaty mess but very happy!

The birthday also coincided with the return of my husband, after a very long year apart.  Thankfully, he came home before Handsome Little Man’s birthday and was able to join in the celebration.  With all the excitement with Daddy’s return (We made signs.  We had a countdown calendar.), I couldn’t deal with party planning details.  Hubby arrived to thunderous clapping (USO does a great homecoming for the troops at BWI.) of random people and the biggest smiles and hugs from his adoring kids.  I gave him a big smooch, handing over the reins of responsibility of the children, and made a mad dash to the bathroom.  After 2 hours of sitting in traffic (driving from Arlington to BWI during rush hour – 50 miles), we arrived at the airport late, or so I thought.  Not realizing it would take forever to get through customs AND because USO personnel made it seem like the troops were going to be coming out at any minute, I waited to go to the bathroom.  I didn’t want to chance missing his entrance.  So 70 minutes later, he arrives.  I dash.

I give high praise to Hubby.  After 21 hours of travel, on the very next day, Daddy Extraordinaire chaperoned Handsome Little Man’s last field trip of the year to the National Zoo.  I don’t think there was a happier boy on that field trip than my son.

The crazy continues.  Yesterday was last day of school for Diva Darling.  I finished up thank you cards and teacher gifts to be delivered when I picked her up.   Not that I was waiting until the last minute or anything.  I like to think I operate under a just-in-time philosophy.

It’s the start to a holiday weekend.  I’m coming up with ideas for family fun!  Yay!  So very grateful for family fun.  BUT never far from my mind is the pending move which is 4 weeks away.  We had a pre-move survey scheduled this afternoon.  Showing someone else the contents of my house makes me reconsider how much stuff really is enough for a family of four.  I only cringed a few times (i.e. the attic, the medicine cabinet and the toy room.) and I realize I still have a fair amount of work to do.  This whole head-in-the-sand denial, temper tantrum stage must go.  Otherwise, I will be in a completely unorganized mess when the packers arrive in 3 weeks.

  

Hubby will be packing up and shipping out next week as his report date is before the school year ends.  I have spent all week setting up accounts for our new house.  Next week, I will be closing accounts for our old.  Thank god, I’m organized, right?   

And if that isn't enough, we are still socializing and entertaining, trying to squeeze in a few good-byes.  Today we had our awesome neighbors over for brunch crepes.  The fun just never ends, nor should it.  Better fun than crazy.

Good times!

“I don’t wanna!” she said with a stomp and a glare.

“I don’t wanna!” she said with a stomp and a glare. 

Actually, that’s me and not my toddler.  I have been having an epic temper tantrum for weeks now over moving back to Texas.  I do not want to move this year.  Or next year.  Or ever, really.

His orders tell me otherwise.  Yet I am resisting, which makes the moving process more difficult than usual.

How do you overcome the resistance, when once again your desires are not, cannot be really, taken into account?  How do you graciously pack up your closer-to-perfect life you have here to go back to a place you have been before and swore you’d never go back?

I no longer know how to be gracious about this move.  I cannot put on the happy face and say “We’ll make do.  It’s only 2 years.”  My well of enthusiasm and optimism that usually accompanies each move runs dry.

I am a Seasoned Spouse, too.  I know the routine.  So I am not sure why this move is the hardest to accept.  I can’t even follow my own positive attitude, upbeat advice that I have given over the years.

Now what?  What advice do you give a cranky, seasoned spouse that a return to base X can only be better than before?  And if it’s not, that she will graciously survive?!