Who's Driving?

I remember when we first moved to Chapel Hill, almost two years ago, John immediately had to go back to Georgia for a week. It seemed so hard to be responsible for the kids by myself for days on end (in a house full of moving boxes and while trying to get ready to start school).

John still works in Georgia and is gone often. Sometimes for a day or two. Sometimes for a week. And mostly, it's gotten easier. I've even been able to look for the positives. I don't have to cook real meals, since the kids don't eat most of the stuff I cook anyway. I can watch whatever I want on TV after the kids go to bed. And somehow I am better about getting the dishes and litter box done while John is gone, at least for a few days.

But last night, on the first night of a week without John, the kids reminded me what it feels like to desperately need back up.

The evening started with Horatio telling me, on the drive home, that he had pooped in his underwear. I told myself to stay cool. He has had some tummy issues recently so it probably wasn't his fault. I got him out of the car seat - the seat seemed clean. Got him up to the bathroom. Shorts - clean. Underwear - clean! He hadn't pooped. Which is a good thing, but why did he say he had? How could he make that mistake? Why would he lie?

I composed myself and heated up some dinner. We ate together and talked about our days. Then I asked the kids to get ready for bed and then watch TV on their iPad upstairs because I was supposed to be having friends come over to practice storytelling. As I was cleaning up the kitchen (and litter box) I heard loud noises from upstairs. I went up to quickly check it out.

They were throwing a toy over the shower curtain rod into the bathtub. I took away the toy and tried to think calmly about what to do. Finally, I told them they couldn't stay upstairs during the storytelling meeting - which was not a solution I wanted but the only one that would ensure they wouldn't be doing stuff like that the whole night.

They were disappointed, but agreed. They played pretty quietly with toys and the meeting was short. Then we were able to hang out together a little bit. I was just thinking maybe the evening hadn't been that bad and I had handled things pretty well. Then we went up to their room to read books. They had carved letters into their wooden dresser earlier, before playing basketball in the bathroom. They used the end of a handle that keeps falling off the dresser. Virginia tried to casually sit in front of it so I wouldn't see it, and then tried to blame the cats.

Again, I was furious. I told them I was disappointed and sad that the dresser had been damaged. Virginia finally seemed to get it and said that she was sad, too. (Will that stop them next time? Questionable.)

Finally they were in bed and I was able to decompress and then go to sleep myself. But I had a dream last night that the four of us were in the car together. We stopped somewhere and John got out. Then Socrates jumped from the back seat up to the front. "What's he doing here?" I asked the kids.

Virginia told me, smiling, "We led him into the car."

And while I was distracted Horatio unbuckled himself, climbed in the driver's seat, and started driving. I tried, frantically to figure out how to safely regain control, but then we went off the road and hit a tree.

I don't need a dream book to interpret that one.