Dear Husband, While You Were Away, These Things Happened

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You may have received a few weird texts from me while you were away. Allow me to explain.

Dear Husband,

While you were on your business trip, eating at restaurants and having full conversations with adults, reading in your quiet hotel room, and wearing nice suits into secure facilities, many things transpired. I don’t know where to begin. You’ve seen quite a few strange texts from me in the last few days.

I am a woman alone with three male toddlers. Boymom.

Someone pooped on the deck. A child. A person. Twice.

I spent as much time as allowed by law at the gym. The children were at the gym daycare for exactly 120 minutes a day. Not one minute less. Yes, I did my strength training class. (I even imagined that my instructor was Parker Posey in “Dazed and Confused”, and she was about to bust out the ketchup and scream “Fry, like bacon you little freshman piggies, fry, fry!”) Also, in full disclosure, I spent a lot of time just idly peddling on the recumbent bike while I listened to U2 and googled the cost of a hip pair of fluorescent gym shoes.

I threw a party in the basement after the kids went to bed one night. A party for moms. We ate that nacho cheese that gives me a stomachache and a headache and watched “Footloose” and didn’t wear bras.

The dog ate a diaper. I didn’t clean up all those little beads that exploded out of it. I was hoping the rain would wash it away but it seemed to make the problem worse. I feel guilty and want to apologize to the earth, but not to you.

I didn’t make the kids clean up their toys. I thought they didn’t notice that I had silently changed the rules, but one of them told his grandmother that “We aren’t cleaning up our toys because Daddy is gone.” Oh, snap!

I fed them fish sticks – or “dick dicks”, according to Twin A. I would never feed them dick dicks if you were here.

I handled a lot of my bidness myself for once. I managed to fix the baby gate when I broke it, finally! I got the trash AND the recycles out on time. I even updated the PlayStation system (with your help via the phone during my mom party when our movie wouldn’t play).

I did not kill the children.

I spilled yogurt all over the deck and the children when I tripped over them. I didn’t clean it up. Thankfully, the rain and the dog were actually helpful in this regard.

The kids were dirty because I haven’t bathed them – because you’re not here to do it for me. I added a couple squirts of Burt’s Bees soap to their baby pool that was full of rain water. Yes, yes I did. They slipped and slided and made a lot of suds. That totally counts as a bath. What?! I’m short-staffed.

I tried to get a tan on the back deck during naptime, and I even managed to take a selfie for you while doing so. I was a bit weirded out when one son kept staring at me through his blinds. Also, the baby monitor informed me that I had to go upstairs approximately 47 times to separate twins and generally restore order. While covered in greasy oil and wearing a bikini. The twins were a bit weirded out as well.

Pinterest fail. It's a sprinkler. Sort of.

Pinterest fail. It’s a sprinkler. Sort of.

I tried to be a Pinterest Mom and failed. I tried to poke holes in a pool noodle and attach it to the hose to make a sprinkler for a dollar. But the water just seeped out instead of shooting out and the kids were totally bored. I even hung it on a tree to make it work better but they weren’t impressed. (When you have an engineer for a dad, mom’s inventions are super lame, I guess…)

I had an anxiety attack. But not about the Pinterest fail.

I binged watched some stuff on Netflix. And by “some”, I mean, a lot. I don’t plan to tell you what I watched because I’m embarrassed. (Oh, dang, I just remembered that Netflix has a history, unlike flipping channels on cable, so I’m sure you will know anyway. And you won’t care.)

I felt terribly uncomfortable at night now that our attack dog is going deaf.

And, to top off the week (drumroll please), one of your sons fell off the lower deck, naked, while peeing.*

I think we need a man around.

Sincerely,

Your wife

***

*He fell 8 feet, but was miraculously fine. I am happy to report that I am indeed calm in an emergency. As he was falling, I was actually running through my list of who to call to watch the twins in case I had to rush him to the hospital. Since the doctor told me I would have to wake said fallen rubbery naked child every two hours all night long to check for signs of concussion, this situation was still grave and worrisome. However, I do believe that it will become a funny story in our family lexicon sooner or later.

Also, I long ago decided that there is a special angel who watches over playing children. Also, I decided that children are made of rubber.

My Thoughts, as My Husband Leaves Me Alone with Three Toddlers for Five Days

OHMYGOSHDONTGODONTGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!

SOMEONEHELPME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!HELP!HELP!HELP!HELPME!!!!!!!!!!

His five-day-long business trip is bearing down on me like a freight train. I’ll be honest: I’m terrified. I’m not one of those amazing independent women who has it all together. I really really depend on Mr. Okayest. (Maybe I’m codependent. No, wait, nevermind. If I remember anything from my B.S. in Psychology, co-dependent does NOT mean what it sounds like it means.) I depended on him waaaaay before kids. I don’t do well without him. He is my rock, my anti-anxiety drug, and my dose of oxytocin.

My 35th birthday present from Mr. Okayest is this oxytocin molecule. Science can be sexy.

My 35th birthday present from Mr. Okayest is this oxytocin molecule. Science can be sexy.

How will I not crack?

How do single mothers do it, when they have no backup coming home at 5:30 PM every day?

I love my in-laws. I love them. They are swooping in like superheroes while their son is away.

How will my child-induced carpal tunnel/tendonitis wrist not break?

What will become of Twin B, who only ever relaxes for his Daddy? (Um, I can’t imagine where he got that trait.)

What will become of my oldest son, who is exactly like his non-biological father in every way except his appearance? He is a Daddy’s Boy, through and through, and he will have tantrums that will blow the roof off this house.

What will become of my naughty and very large dog, who is much naughtier when Alpha Male isn’t home?

How does anyone survive five days without seeing his handsome face?

I need to learn how to work video phone features on my new smartphone, like NOW.

Maybe I should throw a ladies’ night while he is away, after the kids are in bed. I can call it “Junk Food and an 80s Movie in my Funky Basement.” Would anyone come? Oh, dang it, I have never actually turned on that projector by myself. He needs to show me. Why have I never done it myself?

I love my in-laws. I love them.

What the heck is wrong with me? So-and-so’s husband is deployed, and she’s fine. She has pneumonia and four kids and she’s still fine. So-and-so’s husband…. Oh, stop doing this to yourself!

The children will not get bathed for five days. They won’t.

I hope none of the kids (or the dog) breaks a nail. I have never cut any of their nails. Mr. Okayest is responsible for 80 nails – 100 if you count the dog’s nails. (And 120 during pregnancy when I couldn’t reach mine. Oh, wait, I only couldn’t reach my TOEnails, so that would make it 110 that he had to cut.) Oh, don’t act so judgy, readers. I told you I’m just okayest.

He should mow the lawn before he leaves. I have never done that either.

Do I remember how to open the garage door if the power is out? Maybe he should show me the gas shut-off again too. Do we have gas? OHMYGOSH WHATIFTHEPOWERGOESOUT?

I am SO going to watch all those Netflix movies that he won’t watch with me. I’m thinking indie.

I wish I could drink.

Oh, thank goodness his stupid alarm won’t ring at 4:30 AM every single day.

At least I can eat boxed mac n’ cheese for dinner.

 

 

***

Spellcheck had a field day with this one.

Note to potential stalkers: I waited to post this until *after* he came back. Duh.