I have been talking and joking about the first day of school for months now. How I couldn’t wait for my kids to be out of the house for the whole day so I can actually get things done, work, read, clean, shower, who knows… the possibilities are endless, really.
But here I am, alone, kids at school, with a quiet house and two sleeping dogs and I literally feel lost. What the hell am I supposed to be doing?
This is the time when one of my kids is usually starting to moan that they are getting hungry because they didn’t finish their breakfast and refused a snack because they were too busy playing.
Right about now is when I start my two hour warning to my kids that I would eventually like to get into the shower today.
I would have fielded at least three fights by now, five “mahhhm, he’s copying me!!!”s, wiped one butt, kissed six boo-boo’s, and styled my girl’s hair in three different ways.
She would have changed clothes at least four times and placed each discarded outfit on the floor in a trail back to the closet. I would be picking them up shortly.
I would be thinking about what to make them for lunch that will appease all three of their palates, but not force me to make multiple selections. I would have been cursing myself for forgetting to get milk last night and making a mental note to stop when we leave the house again.
My middle child would be asking for the twentieth time if he can play Fortnite yet, forgetting that he lost that privilege after last nights refusal to eat dinner or take a bath without a complete meltdown.
My oldest would be searching the basement for papers and markers to complete templates for uniforms he “needs” to design for the imaginary baseball team he’s been constructing all summer.
My youngest would have told me at least ten times already that I’m the “bestest mom in the weh-ld”, my middle might have told me he hated me (depends on today’s mood) followed by many cuddles and apologies, my oldest would have said something like, “I’m sorry my brother isn’t being good mom, I know you’re tired”.
One of my kids surely would have released one of the dogs out of the yard at some point today and I would have spend an hour trying to wrangle her back in. Another would have attempted to get themselves a drink while I was out of sight and spilled sticky juice all over the counters and floor.
All three would have played nicely for a short time and then would have noticed me quietly on the couch and fought each other jumping on top and to each side of me to be the ones closest to my seat. And then when we finally all settled down, one surely would have asked me to get up and grab them something they could easily get themselves. But they’re “too tired”.
My son would have brought me a blanket, my youngest two would have started racing to the refrigerator to be the first to get me a soda (but can’t seem to get anything for themselves when they want it).
We might have watched a movie, colored a picture, read a few books, played outside or went for a walk, but instead I’ve been sitting here, alone, wondering what to do now that they aren’t here with all of their tiny demands, constant conversation, and incessant needs.
I would have been annoyed, frustrated, dozing off, tired or aching, and had instants where I was on the verge of tears, but I also would have also had hours packed with moments of squeezing them, sweet giggles, and as many kisses on the cheek, forehead, and hands that I deemed necessary….
Maybe having them around hasn’t been so bad after all. I think I kinda miss them.
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