Stress. The devil. Do they indeed mean the same thing?
My husband is stressed. Has started a new company and is just so, well, STRESSED. On top of the demands for his time from both clients and family that he cannot fulfill, and the financial deadlines he must meet so as to keep the house in our name AND the heat turned on, he’s got the fucking flu.
Whoops, I cursed. Hoping I don’t offend any of too many of you.
Because he is stressed, I am stressed, and the kids get stressed because our patience is fickle – waffling somewhere between “I am fucking PISSED that you pooped again and where the hell have the diapers gone to?” and “Sure, eat 12 mini corn muffins in front of Blue’s Clues in the living room so that they crumble everywhere and get ground into the carpet as you drive trucks over them.” I mean, is it fair that the kids cannot predict what we will and will not get mad at these days? I say we are keeping them on their toes, no? Teaching them all about spontaneity. Or some shit.
Apparently I am having some fun with the cursing today. Must be that patience on a downward slant again. Or keeping you ALL on your toes. But I swear (ha ha ha) that I will keep it under my breath for the weekend. That is, of course, if you all can give me a bit of help? Can you? I really do think you can.
I, marvelous me, have plotted and planned with my sister, oh fabulous Jen, another secret weekend.
She will be dropping by about 2 minutes after I arrive home with my chuckleheads. I will, undoubtedly, be vacuuming up aforementioned corn muffin crumbs, as well as the cup of Lucky Charms that was spilled and stomped on yesterday morning. I will have ordered pizza for 10! Yes, ten. I think I should feed the lucky couple before they set sail. Or at least have some leftover crust for them to nibble on. And then…Jen will kiss her bumpkins and they will cry a bit and I will muster energy and make us happy and breathe deep breaths. And so will Jen. And it will begin.
48 hours with six children. Ages: 7, 5, 4, 2, 18 months, and 14 months
Remember last time? Take a look-see. Jen managed it on her own for a while, and then Momalom’s Mom came to help out. It was a hoot listening to naked children spraying water in the backyard when I took the time away from my luxurious weekend to check in. There were no trips to the ER, there were no starving, crying children, there were no unmanageable tantrums. And Jen was as cool as a cucumber when we pulled into the driveway and set foot in the house.
But, you see, there will be no water play this weekend. It is not June. It is not 90 degrees outside. We will be confined to the house. Nudity? Quite possible, just not my own. Popsicles? Just as enticing to kids, not as enticing to parents when said kids are INdoors.
So, I am asking for HELP. Again? Yes I know. My apologies. But I’m brilliant you see, because if I use any of your bright ideas and they end up a disaster, Jen can blame you and not me. And I can appear cool as a cucumber, too.
So, taking all suggestions, advice, ideas and offers of HELP for 6 kids, 2 parents (1 with the FLU), 1 house with 2 kid bedrooms, a toilet with a tendency to overflow, and limited groceries.
Take into account that we have three TVs, something like 4 computers, games and doo-dads galore, more movies than you’d care to know, a great sense of humor, and an entire front lawn full of leaves to rake.
Okay. Now. GO! Give me all you got cause imma gonna need it. And if you are willing to send stress-boy to the spa and replace him with yourself, I will love you forever! Because stress, small patience, and flu? I’m pretty certain my partner will not be up to par.
Will surely give you updates along the way. Twitter was meant for this shit, no?Sarah Writes