Back From Being MIA

I’m back!

. . . now available at A Pea in the Pod

I’m sure you’ve been sitting by your computer, waiting patiently for me to post a blog entry, and I apologize for being MIA for so long.  (Missing in Action, not the female rapper with the poor taste in maternity clothing.)  It has been a rough couple weeks.   

Thing that prevented me from blogging #1: I had 3 family birthdays for which to prepare.  

• Medium had a Muppet-themed party at a local children’s hot spot, but it proved difficult to find Muppet paraphernalia.  Since Pinterest is my new crack, I had all kinds of ideas swirling around in my brain.  Pinterest, to me, is like that mysterious magnetic force on Lost.  It sucks me in; I must go to it.   I spent hours finding, pasting, and cutting tiny circles of Muppets characters and then gluing them onto the bottoms of Hershey Kisses.  Because 7-year-old boys appreciate stuff like that.

But look how cute they are!

• Then we had a surprise 70^th birthday party for my dad.  Again with the Hershey Kisses.  Except THIS time I had the sense to call in reinforcements.  After a desperate late-night email plea, four of my girlfriends came over and joined me in the finding/pasting/cutting/gluing madness, AND helped me assemble gift boxes, AND helped me prepare centerpieces.  Because 70-year-old men appreciate stuff like that.
• Then we had Small’s 2^nd birthday.  Poor kid.  I bought 12 cupcakes at Target, ordered pizza, and called it a day. 

Thing that prevented me from blogging #2:  Illness.

Soon after Medium’s birthday party at the local cesspool of germs and infectious diseases children’s jumpy place, the BoyMommy family was struck by the stomach bug.  You know the one.  The one where there’s stuff shooting out of your body from every available orifice.  That one.  

It started with Medium, but it was relatively minor so I honestly thought he was just a little dehydrated.  Nevertheless, I kept him home from school the next day.  But then I got it.  You KNOW your husband loves you when he says through the door, “are you okay, babe?  Are you getting sick?” and is answered with “I.  Need.  A Hair Tie.”  It’s the middle-aged equivalent of holding your hair back for you after a night of binge drinking.  Hubby slept on the couch for two nights because Large was soon struck and he and I were holed up in my bedroom.  Once we recovered, I had the pleasure of washing and sanitizing all the sheets and towels that had seen us through our illness.

Thing that prevented me from blogging #3:  Hubby is on a Guys’ Weekend.  For SEVEN days.  

He certainly deserves a break.  He works hard, he works long hours, he commutes an hour each way, and he does a lot of extracurricular stuff.  He’s an elder at our church, he teachers Sunday school, he is Vice President of the HOA and a member of the Finance Committee, and he coaches two baseball teams.  I admire his commitment to life outside of work.

But . . .

(You knew there’d be a BUT, right?)

Guess who has to hold down the fort while he’s gone, either at work or at play?  Guess who does all the behind-the-scenes stuff that allows Hubby the time and availability to be all volunteery?

When I get angry at him, I tell him it’s The Hubby Show, and the boys and I are merely supporting cast members.  That’s honestly how I feel sometimes, so I’m going to vent a little.

It’s hard not to be a little resentful when Hubby picks up and leaves for seven days for a fun trip – not because I don’t think he deserves it, because he absolutely does, but because I know I could never just go somewhere for seven days.  Even while I was sick and pukey and headachy and had body aches, I still had children to care for and Hubby still had to go to work.  (This is the man who went to work during the afternoon Medium was born.  Medium was born at 9:32 am.  Circumstances were such that Hubby was back in the office around 2.  Poor planning to deliver a child during “Busy Season!”)

First there’s the Mommy-Guilt.  I have no idea why I feel like I have to be the martyr.  Since when do I hold myself to such a high standard?  Seriously, have you seen the way I dress/cook/clean? 

A little back story: I am going away this weekend with a girlfriend.  We originally planned our trip for the 1^st weekend in January, but Hubby suggested we try a different date because we had so much going on that weekend.  So we chose another weekend, and then some family stuff came up and I again had to reschedule.  Now, here it is, the middle of March, and it looks like we’re finally going to be able to have our girls’ weekend, and I feel guilty for going 2 nights instead of just the one. 

Second, I have to do all the scheduling, no matter who leaves.  Since Hubby has been gone, I have done all the picking up/dropping off for Scouts, baseball practice, etc.  No problem – it’s all part of the job.  But in order for me to enjoy a r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g weekend, first I need to arrange for sitters and/or transportation for the kids for Friday and Saturday on Hubby's behalf. 

Third, I will think about my children the entire time I’m gone.  I’m not saying I won’t enjoy myself, but I’ll wonder what they’re doing, what they’re having for dinner, how practice went, is Daddy letting them stay up too late, and are they watching inappropriate tv programming?

Yes, intellectually I think I deserve a little time off too.  So why do I feel so guilty about needing a break every once in a while?