I feel blessed to have parents who offer to take the kids now and then so Gordie and I can get away. We had the good fortune of going up to Okemo skiing this weekend together, leaving the chaos of home life temporarily behind. It was true bliss, not that I didn’t miss them a little. It was especially nice because we are already a skiing family, so to have a weekend without the hassle of bundling all the kids up for the slopes was heavenly.
Does anyone else feel like coming back from such needed downtime sends them into a drugged-like state? It’s like you arrive back home and you have an out-of-body experience and think: “Is this really my life?!” You are torn between embracing your children for hours on end or looking for the nearest emergency exit. You want to squeeze them and say “I love you” over and over, yet at the same time you feel a bit faint at the thought of starting this process all over again. You may be like me, and find yourself looking onto your kitchen ceiling for an oxygen mask to drop down and help you out. You know, just a little pick-me-up to calm your breathing again and remind you that this is your life, your job, yours, all yours, in all the best, worst, easiest, and hardest ways day in and day out until the next getaway weekend comes along.
The chaos started as soon as we got home. Screaming, wonderful and happy screams. And I love, absolutely love, seeing them again and how happy they are to see us. But still…well, we enjoyed a bit of alcohol while we were away and so at the bottom of the happiness there was a shrieking that made my head hurt like crazy.
All was well…until this morning….brrrrrring….Hadley woke us up at 5 A.M. AGAIN. Super. I like the idea of being up and at ’em on Monday mornings, but I clearly should’ve given the child some Benadryl last night (to anyone with one child is horrified that I occassionally provide sleep assistance to my children in the form of over-the-counter medication, give me a call after a few more kids and let’s talk before you judge me too harshly…).
To make matters worse, the furnace broke (AGAIN). I am starting to wonder if Gordie broke a mirror and hasn’t told me yet. We all woke up freezing. A shower was out of the question (I don’t “do” cold showers), so on with the morning we went, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Townsend oil guy. We all enjoyed our breakfast next to the draftiest window in the house, while donning hats and mittens. I suppose it’s good to know what winter camping would be like with three small children.
As a result of the furnace fiasco, Gordie is working a little late. I ate dinner with the kids. The conversation usually consists of me being badgered with questions from my 3 little friends. Tonight the topic of choice was where your food goes after you eat it. I obviously refrained from telling some pretty ugly college stories that tie into that topic, although it was clear at that moment I felt desperate to be back in the adult conversations of the weekend away. “To your stomach” I informatively told Tom. “Right, so Mom, if I were in your stomach now I’d be looking at all of your chewed up food.” Spot on, honey. I wonder what enlightening subject we’ll cover tomorrow. Thank goodness I love you all so much!!! And I do, I do, I do.
