Thursday, December 4, 2008

Hans? or Solo?

My husband is out of town. I'm on my second day alone and so far so good. Although things don't usually get rough until the third day. By the fifth day I'm thinking about what my second husband will be like. Lucky for Tim he'll only be gone three days this time.

I could never be a military wife. I couldn't be a "my husband works nights at a convenience store" wife either. Five hours straight with my three kids and I'm done. Six hours and then they'd be done. That would be why when I put them to bed tonight at 9pm and at 10pm I turn around and child number 1 has just come in after child number 2 was in here telling me a story that she can't sleep because she hasn't talked to her dad and I have to remind her that in fact she just talked to her soon to be first father so go back to bed. (That sentence made perfect sense in my head.)

You know, I don't have much trouble sleeping when Tim is away. But for some reason tweedle dee and tweedle dum and tweedle can't-stay-in-his-own-bed do. Almost every night we play musical beds. I snuggle with Isaac to get him to go to sleep, he comes in my room at 1am to sleep in my bed, I kick him out just in time for Maya to come into my room and crawl in bed with me. An hour later I kick her out right before Isaac has a nightmare and I have to go crawl in bed with him. By morning I'm running into walls and reassuring the dog that daddy will be home soon.

But here is what panics me most. God forbid I should need to go to the grocery while Tim is out of town and the kids are home from school. The thought of having to take all three of my kids into a store, walk through the aisles and put groceries in a cart with Larry, Curly and Mo on my heels - eeeow. Just poke me in the eyes and slap my bald head - it would be less humiliating. If I had a quarter for every time I have to say "stop it" and "don't touch that" and "don't touch her" and "get your finger out of that" and "get off there, who said you could climb on that?" and "gee, no I'm not buying you Ding Dongs laced with high fructose corn syrup and red dye" then I could afford to leave town once in a while, on an airplane, and stay in a five star hotel. Make that a suite. With a masseuse. Named Sven. Or maybe Hans...

Hmmm... Hans. That sounds like a good name for a second husband.

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