Last weekend, I went with my highly adorable mother on a little trip. It was a business trip for her, and I tagged along because... well, she saw the kind of state I have been in the past couple weeks and deemed me unfit to walk amongst normal people. This was true, I have become more, er... twitchy as the stress leves have risen. The Husband and I differed on just how much I "needed" this little respite, especially when he was faced with the entire weekend solo with the kids. (I have a whole post, ready on that... hand written on a scrap of paper... see lack of internet explaining below)
I was treated to a long drive, chatting the whole way, stopping for Diet Coke refills, and enjoying the silence that comes with a car devoid of small children. I've not realized just how much I had missed uninterrupted time with my Mommy. When the kids are with me, Grandma is the main attraction- and that is great! (takes the heat off me for a while, and Grandma is ever so willing to oblige any request for Cookies! Read this book! Play blocks! And let me swarm about you constantly!) After having real, quality time with my Mom, I realize we must do more things like that. It's now essential.
So, okay. I was a bit miffed with Marriott for charging $14/a day for internet access- either dial-up (who even HAS a dial up modem these days?!) or wireless. On principal, I abstained. Because, sheesh! No hotel, especially not one that caters to business people and is relatively higher-end, should CHARGE for internet- I refused to pay for it, in hopes that I could SEND A MESSAGE. (I'm a huge message-sender when it comes to flagrant injustice) This rendered my laptop useless. And while my Mom did offer her internet-having-phone, I just can't operate an Android- it's impossible. Basically I was incommunicado for three whole days. (I texted The Husband often... mostly with stuff I would have tweeted, I'm sure he loved that)
I returned home from my three glorious child-free days feeling revitalized, refreshed! I was ready to roll up my sleeves and march back into the bed-wetting, sassing-till-the-break-of-dawn, dealing-with-a-short-sale TRENCHES once more. The Husband had been thoroughly worn out, and I was willing once more to take the reigns.
Waking the next morning slightly more dazed and confused than I was prepared for, I found Squirt had wet the bed (The Husband had mentioned this had come to an abrupt halt when I left, so I was relatively surprised, but not yet defeated) I shoved the linens into the wash, reassuring myself that I was REFRESHED! I could handle this! The kids' laundry basket was overflowing, and I had thrown most of the contents of my suitcase into a laundry basket. The sheets needed their weekly washing, and nobody had fresh towels. There was laundry to do, yo.
The kids were all in alarming levels of sticky, dirty, and filthy. (Of course, The Husband is reticent of showering the girls, convinced there is a super-special-girl-secret to shampooing and conditioning long hair) I plopped all three into a quite overdue shower, and went about mopping the floors. (the floors I expected to be the culprit for the blackened bare-feet)
Around lunchtime I was still pressing forward with my new I AM RENEWED, and thus can HANDLE THIS mantra, as I went upstairs to switch out the washing. The intense climate change smacked me in the face halfway up the stairs. The air was hot... and stale. The thermostat read 80. It was then I became acutely aware of the loud rumbling outside the window. I assumed the neighbors were getting their carpets steamed or something just as noisy and annoying.
Further investigation proved that the noise was indeed, coming from our air conditioning unit. The upstairs a/c was out- and naptime was quickly approaching, in half an hour. I frantically called up the landlord, (who are just the sweetest people, and I felt terrible about bothering them with such a time-sensitive emergency- another reason why I never want to become a landlord myself) explained the plight-of-the-moment, and apologized profusely for the bother.
My recharged, revitalized feeling, kind of... lept out the window at this point. It may be mid-October, but we live in the desert, it's still hot.
I stressed about whether or not to put the kids down anyway. The baby was rubbing his eyes, the girls were wilting as they finished off their lunch- they NEEDED a nap. So I turned on every fan we owned, stripped them all down to diapers or panties, and put them to sleep. (It was much cooler in their rooms than the hall, it turns out, but still a bit uncomfortable)
The a/c tech would later have it up and running a mere half hour before naps were slated to end- bummer. While I was busy folding the mountains of laundry while catching up on Grey's Anatomy.
Later that night, the girls- instead of eating their freaking dinner- had a duel with milk-splattering straws. Squirt ended up falling off her stool, landing with a thud and a crunch on the kitchen floor. She had a big 'ol goose egg on her forehead, and broken glasses to boot.
You guys, the glasses situation has been so much better than expected so far- we'd gone almost a whole YEAR without much incident. (I was skeptical about giving three year olds easily broken and dirtied eye-wear) The lack of problems had been especially gratifying because the glasses place that had the only pair that would fit my petite girl-faces... it is across town, way across town. So now we're faced with racing over there during the 1 1/2 hour preschool time to get glasses fixed. (hopefully they are fixable!)
The Husband called soon after the falling-off-stool-incident to inform us he was on his way home. I started off the call by brusquely advising him "This conversation is not going to go well," because he was gonna hear ALL ABOUT the crazy of the day. And it was going to be UNPLEASANT.
I need another vacation. After day 1.