I’m an extrovert. Who stays at home with her kids.
So here I am, a gal who loves to chat. A girl who really kinda needs it. With no one over 3 to talk to for most of my day. Every day. Avoid me in the grocery stores, people. I see adults that can understand every word I say and won’t ask “why?” at least three times in a row after every sentence I say… I will not stop talking to that adult. My father calls it “diarrhea of the mouth”; I just can’t stop talking. Add on the fact that I have terrible awkward tendencies and it’s just not always pleasant to be around me when I’m not properly socialized.
I get so desperate for adult interaction that I invite the Jehovah’s Witnesses in for coffee and chat. Weekly. Never once have I been the one to end the conversation. They do. Every time. But that’s ok. Brenda says she can only stay at one house for an hour at a time. Did you know they have an hour limit they’re allowed to stay in a person’s house?
Yeah, they probably don’t. Poor Brenda.
So how can I, who am desperate for adult time, also be pretty thrilled when my husband has a night flight and I have eve more time where I have no one to talk to? Because I do everything the way I like when he’s not here. I can just sit back and enjoy how smoothly things go when he’s gone.*
For a stay at home Mom, a hubby occasionally working nights are the perks of deployment without the downsides. And because my kids have been trained through several deployments, night flights and temporary duties (TDYs), they know one simple fact:
Do not push Momma.
When my hubby’s here, we’re all sunshine and fun. If someone doesn’t eat their meal, we hand feed it via rocket ship (sometimes). Or we tell them they can eat just two bites and then go play. We play with the baby while reading bedtime stories and tickle bedtime kisses. Homework gets done very slowly and with lots of interruptions. The hubs get so caught up in enjoying his few hours before bedtime with them that bath gets skipped frequently. (Please don’t judge my stinky kids.)
But nuh-uh. Not with mom. Momma’s all about that schedule. We do homework like, right now. Kid gets off the bus at 4. Homework better be done by 4:30. Or in the morning she’ll be writing an apology letter to her teacher. Dinner is dinner. I don’t hand feed you your meal. You eat it or you go to straight to bed. Tonight all my kids ate their meals. We literally sang and danced to the Trolls soundtrack for 20 minutes while we all cleaned up.
Then the little two took baths and the oldest took a shower. They had twenty minutes. I brushed every ounce of all three of their full heads of hair. Even the one with curls. Which took 15 minutes straight. I literally face pushed my 1 year old away from the book while reading bedtime stories and no one got tickled for bed. But they were in bed on time and asleep within 15 minutes. When my three year old was being too loud, I went in and told her Daddy wasn’t here tonight so it’d only be me coming in to tell her to be quiet. Did she want me to have to come back in and tell her to be quiet? Oh no, she did not. She passed right out. That’s right, little one: Fear Momma.
So from their bedtime to mine: I’m gloriously alone.
Everything has worked according to my plan tonight.* I watched Supergirl AND Once Upon A Time while sketching ideas for art classes I may or may not teach some day. For dinner I made the girls their favorite soup (which explains why they actually ate – I did not push them, either) and myself fried ginger and garlic rice. That’s it. Just rice. I knew I was going to have a good dessert. I ate so much ice cream, it’s embarrassing. Or it would be if I got embarrassed by absolutely awesome shit. I don’t. Now I’m writing. And next I’m going to soak in my Jacuzzi tub while watching Doctor Who reruns.
And I’ll probably stay up too late. Because I drank a Mountain Dew at 5 … minutes after 7pm. Also, my tummy kinda hurts from all that ice cream.
I make bad decisions when my husband’s not around.
At least the kids went to sleep well.
Except my oldest just walked past me without even looking at me and is now fast asleep in my bed waiting for me.
*Footnote: It does not always go smoothly. It does not always go according to plan. Sometimes it’s freakin’ terrible. And the fact that I’ve said it goes smoothly will definitely invoke Rule #1 of Babies. There’s also Murphy’s Law’s Military Clause… Where if something can go wrong it will go wrong; while you’re husband’s gone. I’m tempting fate here, people. I predict projectile vomiting vengeance from the Irony Gods.
Update: I did get the wrath of the Irony Gods. I wrote this article 2 weeks ago. And then my youngest started teething. She is currently getting in eight teeth. All at once. *Sigh* I knew the rules. I broke them. I deserve this punishment.