In hockey, three-on-one means there are three offensive players driving towards the goal with only one other defender between them and the goal. It’s not a good spot to be in if you’re the netminder.
While my husband is away, playing hockey in Toronto, I have been feeling like the outnumbered defenders. So, even though he’s not here, we still have something in common this weekend.
Last evening, my kids were scattered around the neighborhood and suddenly I realized, I AM ALONE IN MY HOUSE! I didn’t quite know what to do with myself; it’s something I often wish for, yet when my wish became reality, I was disoriented. Should I run out for a pedicure? Go buy gin? Nap? Finish our taxes? I settled on taking a shower, then cooked my dinner and sat down in front of the TV with it. Halfway through eating it, my neighbor phoned to report that the 14 year old neighbor on a skateboard had collided in her driveway with my 4 year old, and I should probably come and collect my freaked-out little boy. So, I did. He really was fine, just understandably shaken up. It was a good thing he was wearing his helmet. Once I got him home, he returned to being the bossy, demanding Dictator we all know and love.
My older boys had ended up at another neighbors’ house, and I finally had to call and summon them home at 10:30 pm. They fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV. This morning, despite repeated attempts, I couldn’t get them to wake up and get ready for church. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get myself and the Peezer ready to go when I hear the cat retching outside my bedroom. He had eaten his canned food, then drank a lot of water, then immediately puked up the water and the cat food. SUPER! Because I was just thinking, hey, now would be a great time to bust out the steam cleaner. To add insult to injury, Peezer did the exact same thing – inhaled a doughnut, drank some water, then coughed hard enough that the water came right up.
(Oh, and I forgot to mention, Curt’s damn alarm clock went off AGAIN at 4:00 a.m., and I had not plugged it back in! It’s seriously possessed. I have since figured out why, but what a rude awakening, two mornings in a row.)
Anyway, the required cleaning of the cat puke and Peezer spit-up made me late, and so I decided to let the boys “have their way.” They always moan and groan and fuss about going to church, and, because we feel it’s important, we always insist. But after everything else, I just didn’t have it in me to get them up and deal with their painful whining. So, I LEFT THEM. “You win!” I announced. “You get your way! Have a fun morning! Oh, and we will talk about this when we get home!”
“Thanks, Mommy!” said The Boss. I just stared at him, shook my head, then left without responding.
After I returned home, we sat down and had a little chit-chat. “How’d you feel when I left?” I asked. The Boss was right on it. “Sad,” he said.
“Because I knew you were angry,” he replied, his voice trembling.
And he was pretty close; I explained how mostly, I was disappointed, and blah blah blahdeblah BLAH, BLAAAAAH BLAHBLAHBLAH deblah. (At least I’m guessing that’s how they heard me.) It was a calculated risk, and I knew it might backfire, but I think I may have made my point.
And then my head exploded all over the kitchen.
Well, not really, but you know what? I’ve written before about how mentally draining I find parenting to be. Between fending off the moody, sarcastic, sullen teenager and the constant barrage of demands and needs from the four year old, I barely have time to focus on the under-the-radar, sweet fifth grader who’s probably just around the corner from his older brother’s attitude. And what then? I’ll be outnumbered! Say prayers! Send gin!
Single parents probably think I’m being whiny, but my husband has me spoiled. I’m so lucky to have him. I miss the advantage of having my teammate here to help me fend off the Attack of the Short People. To share the burden of discipline. To remember where the older two boys are when the younger one needs undivided attention. To mix a cocktail upon request!
Meanwhile, the report from Toronto last night was good. The Men of Steel had won one and lost one yesterday, which earned them a spot in the semifinals. They were to play at 11am today, and, if they won, again at 1:30pm. Playing the afternoon game would require them to rebook onto later flights home, and Curt had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, they went to play, and they wanted to play, and you never don’t want to win. But, they were getting tired, and the prospect of returning home at midnight Sunday, exhausted and sore, and getting up for work as usual on Monday, was less than appealing. Right now it’s a little after 3pm, and I haven’t heard from him, so I’m not sure what the outcome was. Watch the comments or, perhaps, for a new post if the news is good.
I’m so glad he’s having fun – he needed this getaway, and I’m happy to be able to make it possible. I don’t intend for my crappy day to make Curt feel badly that he wasn’t here – far from it. Everyone needs a break from the routine now and then, and it was his turn.
My turn is coming in two weeks. Stay tuned.