I can count on one hand the number of times I have gone away, overnight, from my children.
Each time I have done so I return home to a clean house with children happily playing outdoors. My husband is full of tales of kids helping to cook, long family bike rides, board games, and cheerful bedtimes. He always wonders why I think being home with the kids alone is so tough.
This week he had to go out of town unexpectedly and within 24 hours of him being gone:
- two out of three children got terribly sick;
- the phone and the internet both died;
- the hot water heater died;
- the van refused to start, and I had to call CAA for a jump, and then it happened AGAIN;
- and our shower developed a leak.
Needless to say, I was a hysterical mess. The house slowly descended into Heart of Darkness style madness as I wept over the fact that we had no Netflix to occupy the sick children, the dishes and laundry piled up, and we got smellier and smellier.
He came back on Saturday and suddenly all was well with the world. He fixed the internet and all the children were healed. I think this might go to his head.