I’m on day two and a half of a five-and-a-half day stint as a solo mom while Rob attends a conference in Kentucky. Can you tell I’m counting the hours?
Owen decided to spring his first genuine feverish illness on me (not counting his post-vaccination reactions) several hours after Rob’s departure, so I’ve been checking and rechecking his temperature over the course of the past 24 hours as it vacillates between 100 and 101 (it makes me nervous when little bodies start overheating, even just a tad). Fortunately his only symptoms were rosy cheeks and a little dip in his energy levels -- and finally this morning we’re back to normal land.
Really it’s the evenings that get me when Rob’s away. It feels like it takes a solid three hours of quick thinking to pull off all the dinner and bedtime rites and rituals for both Owen and Will on my own (although Will’s proven himself more self-sufficient and generally helpful than I sometimes give him credit for – so far anyway). But still I’m worn out by the bedtime-for-two dance -- and then, once their lights are out, I get to face the mess that is our house.
I’ve decided that there should be spousal recovery conferences held on the week following any supposedly important conference that pulls a wife or a husband out of the family unit for five days. Said recovery conference should take place at a more exotic locale than that of the first conference (since it was the attendees of the first conference that made the decision to leave home in the first place). The first day would have to include an introductory vent-the-past-week-while-downing-your-favorite-beverage gripe session just to purge any lingering stress, followed by a more peaceful session of beachside silence (no talking, just the sound of the waves), followed by a three-hour-long massage, followed by the first unhurried shower you’ve had in months (forget the drought, forget the chores). Then maybe some live music or a good film at an actual theater.
Granted I’m nursing so I can’t attend this year. But whenever I get Owen weaned, I’ll be there.
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1 comment:
Oh Annie - five days must feel like an eternity. Add another to your growing list of character-building parenting experience. And count me in on that conference.
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