Even if the weather can’t pull itself together (yes, I admit, this afternoon was beautiful), summer mode is going full force in my house this week. I think it’s mainly due to the fact that my beloved husband is in the Sierras for ten days, climbing his little heart out while I’m here holding down the fort. Really, I’m not bitter. Really. Now that the kids are older, Curt going climbing is not the big deal it was when they were babies.
In fact, things are pretty dang relaxed around here. Funny how one adult being gone means there’s no schedule. Read: no dinner. Or at least nothing formal. We eat when we’re hungry rather than according to a prescribed hour, and often spend less than a minute preparing quesadillas or popping a can of beans or the like. Last night Ty had a corn dog, and I ate a frozen concoction from Trader Joe’s (Leah was off at a sleepover). I’m not even sure there were any dishes to clean up.
With school out less than a week, we’ve managed 4 sleepover sessions (two of those with a gaggle of friends visiting from Seattle and England) and multiple playdates already. Leah’s planning another sleepover tonight. That’s the other thing that’s different with Dad gone. Since I’m home with the kids (cramming in writing wherever I can and not as often as I need to), I really don’t care if they head out the door for yet another playdate or invite someone in to wile away the afternoon. It buys me the time I haven’t scheduled with a babysitter.
The other thing about solo parenting is there’s no one to question (or even witness) my slacker parenting ways. No one to quietly suggest that maybe I’m taking the no-routine thing a bit far. No one to see Leah’s eyes rolling in her head from fatigue or notice that Ty hasn’t had a balanced meal (but pasta counts, right?).
Then there’s also the impromptu decision-making that, you know, is just kind of fun. This evening, I invited the boy down the street to dinner, with whom Ty has been playing since about noon. And now they’re contemplating a sleepover even though Ty has swim lessons in the morning, and normally I would say no, but I can’t really think of a reason to say no. His lesson is only half an hour long and if he’s a little tired, oh well. Plus the boys are still getting along so well, so what the heck?
Of course, while we’re all enjoying the hiatus from the family schedule, I do hear occasionally, “When is Daddy coming home?” Usually in some quiet moment between social activities. This breakneck schedule will wear thin soon, and the novelty of no dinner won’t be a novelty anymore. And holding down the fort all by myself is fine for a while, but being in charge of everything isn’t the bees knees either (that lawn is starting to look a little long). And somehow I've got to get the dining room hutch moved because the electricians are coming tomorrow to finish up the rewiring job that's not quite done. And every time I want to talk, about, you know, adult stuff, I have to file it away in my brain to bring up next week. Yeah, the things we appreciate about our spouses become most clear when they’re gone.
Half an hour later…
Leah just called. She’s bagging on tonight’s sleepover because she’s too tired, so she’s coming home to sleep in her own bed. Such a sensible child.