Sometimes I don’t love them enough as I should.
For example: Three weekends ago we decided to take a trip to Jackson, MO as a family. There is a hotel there we enjoy, and it’s dog-friendly which is a nice accomodation for us since we have absolutely no family who is nice enough to stop by and water/feed the dog for us. God forbid they act like fucking family, right? Anyhow, we were on our way down there and the kids were acting a little crazy, but not too bad. Overall, the weekend was okay. Defeinitly not good, but far from horrible. This weekend, I loved them as I normally do.
For example: Last weekend we decided to go to a little secret spot of property I have. First, because I felt the urgent need to check-in on it. Second, because I wanted to. We left as it started to sprinkle on Friday evening, and of course it down-poured all the way to Jackson, where we stopped for the night at our favorite hotel. My husband took the kids down to the pool for the last 30 minutes it was open, and I attempted to take a shower. Of course, that didn’t work out so well because I was too busy getting pajamas, towels, etc. arranged for everyone when they came back to the room. I was just getting into the shower when they got back from the pool. Annoying, but that’s my life. Husband tended to them, drunk as he was, and they all were jumping on the beds. Just as I’d started to relax, I hear a blood-curdling scream come out of Littlest. Of course I jump out of the shower, pissed off, and scream at everyone: WHAT HAPPENED!? Husband shrugs it off and says she bumped her arm on the wall. She comes crawling over to me, bloody head and all. Yeah, I see she bumped her arm alright… I think to myself. I pick her up, and take her into the shower with me – because what else can I really do? I rinse the shampoo out of my hair, skip the conditioner, and get out. I’m exhausted. I’d had a long tiring week at work, and all I wanted to do was relax. Of course, my mom had said she was coming to get the kids, but – consistent as she is – she never did. The chaos continued until roughly 1:00 a.m. when I finally got everyone to settle down and get into bed.
The next morning we got up, got breakfast, and headed toward the property. The kids were being so fucking bad. Terrible. They were so bad that I actally turned the car around and went HOME. My husband promised me that he’d stay home the following weekend so I could go down there myself and visit my cousin and check in on the property.
So, that brings us to today. Guess what we did today.
I woke up, got dressed, made breakfast. The kids were being insanely good – I turned on The Little Mermaid and all three of them sat on the couch and watched it. AMAZING. I actually cleaned the kitchen and put some orange rolls in the oven. (Normally they are being so terrible I can’t even get the stupid orange rolls out of the fridge.) My husband came downstairs, and decided he’d be going to work. OF COURSE I thought to myself… OF COURSE. Since the kids were being so darn good, I didn’t mind. I’m going to take them down there, buy them each a Purple Cow, go to the park… then I’ll bring them to their Grandma’s. What a fun day. Yes, that’s what I’ll do I thought to myself. I got their clothes together to go to Grandma’s tonight. They got dressed when I asked them to. They ate their breakfast when I called them to the kitchen and they even threw their plates away when they were finished, then went back to the Living Room to watch The Little Mermaid. They got into the car the first time I asked them. They were good when I went to the post office (I got my Christmas stamps already! Hahaha!) and the bank. Then we got on the highway to go. I was so happy – I thought, wow, we can finally do something together as a family without being miserable for once. Less than five minutes later, Middle was puking his breakfast up, silently of course, and just sitting there with puke in his lap and all over my car. I promptly pulled over and asked why the fuck didn’t he tell me he felt sick? We’d been over this time and time again, and yet he still continues to just puke all over my car. Of course, the kids started being 100% insanely terrible, and I now have to go out to my car and clean up his puke.
So much for doing something enjoyable with the little brats today. Hopefully I can get my mom to actually pick them up tonight… because tomorrow I’m going down to the property. By myself. To lay in the middle of my one single city block of property and do nothing but be. I don’t care if all 180 people who live in the town think I’m a crazy fucking mess. That is what I’m going to do. Actually, I’m going to measure the property, break-out my drafting supplies and my chair, figure out a good vacation home plan, and figure all my materials so I can go home and figure the cost. Because I’m sick and tired of going down to the hotel when we’re 45 minutes from the property. My goal is to start paying off my ex-husband’s debt that he ran up in my name, then mortgage the house for a few thousand bucks, send the kids to Grandma’s for two weeks this summer when I have time off, and build myself a little getaway. That way, when we sell the house and move to Florida, not only will I have a play to stay when we go back to visit on rare occasions, but I’ll also have a place to get away from everyone.
For now, I’ll put on a pot of water, make some macaroni and PB&Js, feed these kids lunch, and clean the puke out of my car.
I fucking love being a mom.