FRIDAY — BREAKFAST TABLE:
“Mom, did you know that Mema invited us to her house for a sleepover this weekend?”
“Yes, I did know.”
“For. Two. Whole. Nights.”
“Isn’t that nice?! For you two, I mean?”
“Yes, but what will you do? Won’t you cry without us for the whole weekend?”
“I will cry. Many tears. But I am happy for you and all the fun you’ll have.”
{Cue Academy Award nomination. Somebody please put me in touch with a stylist to arrange my red carpet look.}
* * * * *
And, just like that, my husband and I went from three kids to one for 48 hours. One who can’t yet talk, complain or beg for more time on the Wii, I might add. He just wants more carbs, basically.
When my mom delivered this fabulous offer to me, I immediately began making grand plans in my head. I had visions of productivity and finally, FINALLY making some progress on the 1,488 items that I never get the time to tackle. With just one child and two parents in the house, the scales tipped back in our favor. We were not outnumbered. We were not saving ketchup from the horrific fate of touching any nearby vegetables. We were not negotiating iPad sharing.
OH the shit I could get done. I was going to own my almost kid-free weekend.
So, let’s have a look at how well I did, shall we?
GOAL: Pay the bills.
REALITY: Increased the balance on the bills. Because, I’m sorry — but was I supposed to ignore the opportunity to hit up a summer clearance sale alone? I think it would be fiscally irresponsible if I had skipped it to pay full price elsewhere.
GOAL: Put measurable dent in laundry pile visible from space.
REALITY: Added to pile (see shopping reference).
GOAL: Get at least one good work out in.
REALITY: Went out to dinner. And breakfast. Because work out clothes were buried in aforementioned laundry pile.
GOAL: General massive overdue clean up of pretty much everything. Because, OMG.
REALITY: Yeah, notsomuch. I got my hair cut. Got a massage. Had fire pit-side drinks with my neighbors. Went for a long stroll (not to be confused with working out). Played with the baby without simultaneously yelling at two other humans to pick up their stuff.
So things didn’t go exactly as planned.
In my defense, it seems I was stricken by a severe case of Fuckitall — an unpredictable affliction with varying degrees of severity, often occurring in parents with unexpected free time on their hands. (See also: Opposite of Productivity). The only known cure for Fuckitall is to have one’s children return home and have standard Monday morning madness commence.
So, you should know that I’m back to my old self, buried under laundry, paying bills, avoiding workouts and facing my 1,488 to-do items again. But it was a great reprieve for everyone.
And, perhaps most importantly, I learned an important lesson about technology. If you want to create a Hallmark moment upon being reunited with your kids, all you need to do is use the slow motion feature on your phone’s video.
I mean, look at my son. Could he be any more overjoyed to see me? This is the greeting we all want as parents. It warmed my heart and even made me feel far less guilty about all the stuff I didn’t get done while he and his sister were away.
(Disclaimer: Real-time greeting was far less dramatic.)
Productivity is overrated anyway.
