I'm alone again. Dom left last Thursday for a 5 week cruise around the Pacific, and I realized that I haven't spoken to another adult since Friday. I'm so popular, you know. Anyway, that's a whole lot of children time this weekend. In fact, Michael hasn't slept in his own bed since Thursday night.
The first night, he snuck in sometime after midnight, claiming to have had a bad dream. The following evenings, I just gave up after a few hours of battling. Last night I set up a pop tent on my floor. It was kind of like having privacy, only with more snoring. It doesn't so much matter because I'm laying awake at night anyway.
I've been wondering about some crazy what-ifs. If I had an aneurism/heart attack while my husband is away--which it's likely, because all of this stress will probably kill me someday soon--I don't think anyone would realize for a good week or two. Wouldn't bother me any; I'm dead in these scenarios. But what about my kids? I don't want my almost 4 year old having to survive off of the granola bars I keep on the counter top while my 9 month old fashions a rope to climb out of her dirty diaper and a blanket just to climb out of her crib. The only supervision they will have is my retarded Labrador and his manipulative Beagle cohort (who is completely driven by the desire to eat, by the way). My children will be raised by dogs, only to be eaten by them!
So I stare at the ceiling, trying to escape my inevitable doom of dying in my sleep and end up too tired to take care of my children properly anyhow. What a world.
Today's subject line quote is from The Simpsons.
2 years ago