I’m grumpy. Which figures, since yesterday I was congratulating myself for being so patient, so courageous, so compassionate. Yay, me. I’m such an amazing mom. I’m such an incredible wife. My family is so blessed to have me.
So we went to Nathan’s preschool spring program last night, which was adorable, and – as Michael aptly noted – it was our first preschool program without a stroller. Small victories! The happy and hands-free couple sat with their two elder children to watch a stage-full of precocious 4 year olds scream “OUR GOD IS A GREAT BIG GOD!”
Except that we maybe could have used a stroller. Or some other type of restraining device. Elder children were picking and arguing and shoving. Mostly the younger of the elder two.
Then when we exited the auditorium to collect the youngest cherub, the energy and inability to obey were completely unleashed.
Why can my children not stand quietly instead of running around like wild monkeys while in public?
And why, when we returned home, can they not just do as they are told? The first time? And stay in bed? And go to sleep at a decent hour?
Which would not be such a big deal if my husband were not leaving this weekend for a nine-day stint in Vietnam. Saving the world one eyeball at a time.
The big kids’ school open house is next week while he’s gone. I’m thinking: No. Friggin’. Way.
I’m grouchy. And I’m a wimp. A big ol’ grouchy wimp.
I thought I was better prepared this time. I was all set to be supportive and understanding. I know that my job in this is to keep the family intact and the household running smoothly so that he is free to go save the world.
I overestimated myself.
I seem to recall his first trip that went really, really well at home. I seem to recall a complete empowering from God to do what I needed to do with a smile on my face.
Also known as G-R-A-C-E.
Needin’ some of that. In large measure.
So between now and Sunday night, I need to get over myself and get on my face and BEG for the grace not to kill my children and spend the entire week in bed, cowering from the reality of temporary single motherhood.
Let me say here that I know many of you have husbands that travel often, and I absolutely applaud you. Please let me know how you handle it – because I am not doing a very good job. I know there are some of you who might be full-time single moms, and wow, you are my heroes. Please share your wisdom.
I highly value authenticity – and I am authentically grouchy. And angry. And overwhelmed. Oh, how I want to cuss. (I’ll keep that in my head. At least until I talk to Gretchen on the phone and vent – loudly – to her.)
OK. I almost feel better. I’m off to Costco now. You know – the happiest place on earth. Think I’m needing me some retail therapy.