So there’s this thing that happens each and every time the big man of the house is gone: my kids get sick.  Siiiiiick.  Not the cool kind of sick either, like “dude that is sooo sick!”  Usually, I have a couple of good weeks to wallow in my misery of being a single mom before the 2am puke fest begins.  This year…whoa…let me tell YOU.  This year they are my little overachievers!  He left on Thursday.  My daughter has a fever of 103 on Sunday.  My son comes home from school on Monday with the flu.  No really, the flu.  Not the tummy bug but the whole lung/nose/head/tummy thing.  Oh, did I mention that my place of employment is my reason for remaining sane?  It’s my break three days out of the week from my lovely offspring and gives me just enough time away to be ready to face them for the rest of their waking hours. Monday afternoon, throughout Tuesday and now into Wednesday I have had them home with me all day.  I’m either thinking of making myself a drink or making one for them; I haven’t figured out which one would be better. 

I took my boy to the doctor this morning and wouldn’t you know it, it was no ordinary trip.  I had to park in the farthest lot because all of the good spaces were taken up by those coming in for excessive spring break partying (I’m guessing, but it could happen), old retired folk needing to refill their prescription for Aspercreme and women bursting at the seams, ready to have their baby any second.  C’mon, do these people really need to take the closest spots?  Huh?  So we were seen and then sent to x-ray because my son’s a little OCD like his momma and likes routine and he was in last March with pneumonia and they wanted to check for that again.  We waited.  And waited.  And then waited some more.  I’m not one to stir the pot.  I will definitely put myself out to not put anyone else out, but 45 minutes go by and we’re still waiting to hear the results of the x-ray.  Finally, it takes the doctor walking back and yelling at the techs to get their booty’s in gear to send the results.  Oh yeah, he’s got pneumonia again.  Same lung.  Yippee!! Let’s have ice cream.  Oh wait, we have to wait some more to get our prescription filled.  So another hour later we finally leave (3 ½ hours at the hospital-RIDICULOUS!!)  And now my daughter has croup.

 Am I the luckiest mom or what??  My husband owes me diamonds.  Big ones.  And a trip to the day spa.  And lots of Starbucks.  And chocolate chip cookies*.

*Update* I should have wished for a million dollars or something because not 5 minutes after I hit post, the doorbell rang and Mr. UPS man was dropping off a box from Mrs. Fields.  Swear!  Mr. Lobster’s aunt had sent an Easter goody box with chocolate, brownies and (dun dun dunnnn) chocolate chip cookies.  Man, that is soooo sick!

Here we go again.  If I had only known then what I know now.  How many times can someone say this?  Mr. Lobster, my DH, is somewhere over some ocean on his way to work for a very very long time.  This will be trip number four since 2003.  Do you know how insane I have become as a result of these trips?  I’ve lost brain cells, hair follicles, the ability to retain anything in my memory and occasionally my sense of humor.

 It’s part of his job; I understand.  What I don’t understand is why he seems to be the one to go every single time, regardless of what he’s doing and where he’s doing it.  There’s so many others who have not had the opportunity to participate.  I’m ready to spend more than 12 months with my hubby before he leaves me again.  GRRRR!!!

 So, I have total parent duty for as long as I can see.  Right now, there is no light at the end of the tunnel.  It ends waaaaay down there, and we’re not quite sure where “down there” is yet.  Meals, cleaning, shopping, reading, bathing, driving, entertaining, nurturing and everything else that goes along with parenting is fully on my plate along with running the household, managing the money, taking care of the animals and every other thing that will be thrown my way (because they always are when the cat’s away).

Yes,  I am complaining.  He hasn’t been gone for 24 hours yet, it’s my right.  I miss him like crazy already.

Now I’m off to start a load of laundry, make lunches to pack up for our park outing later, dress up my daughter in her ballet clothes and get started on my Friday.

Welcome my friends, to the show that never ends.  My first post on a new forum, my fourth blog.  Hmmm.  Do I have issues with completing tasks?  Perhaps.  This blog, however, is for me.  Not my family, not the friends I’m begging to read my witty insights.  Me.  To gripe and moan if I feel like it, to be sarcastic or silly.  To be perpetually happy or just spew literary nonsense.  And so it begins.  And already, three sentence fragments.  Ha!

Friday afternoon.  Park day.  Hooray.  Notice the . and not the !  Why?  I hate park day.  I only do it because of mommy guilt.  I would much rather be at home making lists, or surfing the internet or watching SpongeBob with my kids.  However, the kids deserve the chance to get out and be social.  Some take their dogs to the dog park for the same reason.  Me?  I consider my kids more important than a family dog so I’ll grit my teeth and get through it.  It always feels like comparison time.  What’s new, what are you wearing, what are you doing this weekend, what is everyone having for lunch.  Blah.  Strangely, this group consists mostly of Mormons, which I am not.  A new mom was there today.  Blonde.  Three kids.  “Where are you originally from?” I ask, because her husband is in the military.

“Utah.”

“Of course,” I think.  And yes, my judgmental assumption was correct.  Nothing wrong with Mormons.  Great people.  Heavenly underwear?  So do not understand that whole concept. Having more kids than the Brady Bunch?  Yeah, not for me either.  I’ll stick to my W.A.S.P. lifestyle with the two kids and a margarita to start up the weekend.  That’s sounding pretty good right now.  Is 2:30 in the afternoon too early to start drinking?

All in all, the required child social hour was not as bad as it normally is.  I was able to wrangle my kids into the car and no one is missing a fingernail and I still have all of my hair.  I think that the constant wind blowing and the chill in the air made it easier to endure the idea of leaving.  Hooray for February weather!  (Did you notice the ! ?)