A recent post from Potty Mummy about having time to oneself without any kids prompted this blatant plea for tea and sympathy. Now while Potty Mummy was able to throw off the shackles of the dreaded to-do list and treat herself to a well-deserved spa day, (which I fully but enviously support), I just wish I could have a day without kids, full stop/period. I am knackered.* It doesn't seem to be on the horizon - at least this calendar year.
Yes, I've just had a month in England, but most of that was without the Ball & Chain, making me the round-the-clock entertainment director for three kids. On top of that the 'holiday' also involved having the five year old in my room every single night. Not being used to the ungodly hour the sun rises in England (when it's around, that is) the little one typically woke around 5.30am and just started talking. Fortunately it was about nothing in particular so a response wasn't usually required, although every so often he would sit up and say "You're not even listening are you?". "No", I would respond between sobs, "I'm trying to go back to sleep."
We've been back in the US a week now but Ball & Chain disappeared on Sunday to take oldest son to sleepover baseball camp and hasn't been seen since. That means that I was here on my own to deal with the jet lag. I say 'on my own' even though the queenager is here; since she makes an appearance five hours after everyone else and promptly lies down on the sofa to watch re-runs of "The Golden Girls", we won't count her in on this. As you'll know if you've travelled westwards to the US, the jet lag means that you can't stay awake past about 8pm and wake at 3am on the first morning, 4am the next day etc. Wednesday we had breakfast at about 5.30am and this morning little man didn't wake up till 6.30am. He didn't actually come into my room, (is he finally learning something?) but could be heard sitting on the floor right outside. The monologue went like this:
"All is lost. I am bloody starving. No, seriously, my stomach is rumbling. My stomach is really rumbling". (He's five remember!)
The he went in for the jugular:
"I'm so hungry I will just have to go downstairs and make my own breakfast. Mommy won't mind. I wonder where the toaster is."
The thought of him either sticking a knife into a live toaster, or pouring cereal all over the kitchen floor was more effective than a cattle prod in hurtling me out of bed and across the bedroom.
"Nooooo," I wailed, as if in slow motion. "I'm up, I'll get you breakfast".
"About time" was his brazen response. Far too cheeky for his own good that one.
As I say, I am sorely in need of a day off.
* "Knackered" - (British English). Knackered people are extremely tired. Knackered things are broken. I am both.