It’s quiet.
Almost too quiet.
Even the cat is spooked.
My kids are with my parents in Texas. Mom took them back with her so I could finish unpacking in peace. It’s much easier to unpack without kids wanting to “help.” I know all the parenting magazines suggest giving your child a job so they are included, but no. When I’m trying to get something done, I need my space.
Anyway, before they left, the kids would try to “help.” They’d pull the paper out of the box and throw it around. Then one would try to climb in the box, smashing the contents inside. I’d have to bite my tongue to keep myself from telling them to piss off. I’d try to put things away and they’d want to touch whatever I brought out and act as though they hadn’t seen that particular piece in years. I pulled out a lamp and both kids leaped on it as though it were candy.
So I appreciated the fact that Mom offered to take them back with her. I’ll be flying to Texas tomorrow and then we’ll have our annual mini family reunion on the beach.
But as I said, the quiet is strange. It’s odd to be able to sit on the couch and read a chapter without sticky hands coming at you.
It is nice to get errands done and not have a little person whining that they are booorreed and could we please go home?
The good news is, I’m basically done unpacking. The only thing that is left is the garage and I’ll leave that to Tom. He can organize it how he likes.
I do miss the kids though. Sometimes I’ll peer into their rooms and feel a pang in my heart. It was nice to get a break though.
Oh, and I’m flying to Texas so I get to endure an airplane. Since I’m flying without kids, I’ll try to read to distract myself that we might go crashing to the ground at any second. Or I’ll play Lost. But sometimes when I’m playing Lost my eyes will rest on a passenger and I’ll think, “He (or she) looks just like the type of person who would blow up a plane…” Yes, I think awful things like that. I can’t help myself.
For now, I’m going to go clean the bathrooms.
Without “help.”
And then I’m going to read.
Without my book being taken from me and hidden.
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