When the husband’s away…

…the children will drive their mother insane.

Personally, I think business travel is fun for the traveler, not the one left behind. If I could be in Manhattan right now, strolling around Times Square and dining out in new restaurants, I would be having the time of my life.

Instead, I’m trying to keep the children from killing each other.

It all started off with a Change in the Morning Routine. Because, I’m not normally the person who drops off the kids at daycare; it’s my husband. This is a good thing because they know Dad will not respond to tears, pleas, or threats. He just hugs them goodbye, and he’s off. So dropping off the kids isn’t a big deal. Usually, they wave, smile, and go back to playing with their friends.

Today, however, my daughter decided to be a Drama Queen. How DARE I leave her? How could I even THINK of going to work? As soon as I began to leave, she attached herself to my knees and started the Pitiful Sobbing ™. When that didn’t work, she threw herself on the ground and did the full body tantrum. My son stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. The parting memory was of my daughter’s face, pressed up against the Plexiglass door, sobbing her heart out. Meryl Streep would have been proud. There could have been a little more subtlety to the tears, but in general, it was Oscar-worthy.

Of course, when I picked her up, she chirped, “Hi, Mommy! I making the Play Dough!” (The verb ‘to be’ is still optional)

While going to the grocery store, it was a case of my son taunting her. “Santa Claus thinks I’m being a good boy. You aren’t a good girl. He’s not going to bring you anything.”
Daughter breaks into more crying: “I want Santa Claus to come!”

Glass. Of. Wine. Need it now.