Whoever Says, You Can’t Go Home, Never Had To Sleep With Me!

The kids and I left town, this weekend – yes, ALL of us and my husband DID know about it – because, well, you see, I haven’t been feeling "quite right" lately.

No, I’m not sick.

[knocking on wood until knuckles bleed]

But, for reasons too long to go into, here (you’re welcome) if you really want to know, I’m hashing it all out at The Imperfect Parent, today.

Anyhow, I’ve been at this mommy gig long enough to know that raising a family isn’t always going to be all sunshine and rainbows – although, my kids really do make me smile and, more often than not, laugh SO hard, my face hurts – I’ve been hollering at the children way too much, lately, and by the time I woke up on Friday morning, I was ready to toss in the towel and called it a day.

So, I packed my bags and ran home to my mommy!

"Got room for 5 more?"

You see, the kids had a 3-day weekend off from school and they’ve been tag-teaming each other for sick days ever since January.

Being the main care provider for our family – which sounds WAY better than stay-at-home-mom, I think  – it’s difficult for me to admit it when, you know, I just don’t feel up to being the only adult; or even acting like one, for that matter.

Sometimes, I need to hear another grown up voice.

"Tough week?"

One hug from my mother and, I swear, even you would feel as if she truly can see straight into a person’s heart.

"How about a cup of tea?"

You see, it always wasn’t like this.

"A cup of tea would be lovely, thanks!"

Growing up, I had a entirely different view of my mother.

"By the way, we’ve already decided that we’re treating you guys for lunch, haven’t we Hon?"

She and my father worked…all…the…time and often times – whenever, they were home – she and my father would be stressed to the point where they would argue and there were days when they wouldn’t talk to each other, at all.

"Yeah and I don’t want to hear any bullshit about it, either!"

Now, when my father talks, the children listen and believe that he IS perhaps the funniest grandfather on the planet.

"But, you treated the last time!"

Seriously, when we visited the last day off from school, two weeks ago and they insisted on taking my oldest girl (she’s 14) clothes shopping.

"In fact, Thing One calculated the exact amount you guys put out."

Although, it doesn’t take a math major to figure out that my parents pretty much live to see their grandchildren happy and, not to mention, like them way better than Garth (not his real name) and me.

"Yeah, it’s more than mom made all year and daddy would have to work…"

I pinched Thing One (hard) and started coughing, loudly.

"Never mind."

You see, my parents think that I already do too much and I really didn’t want them to know that I’ve started looking for "a real job" to help make ends meet.

"We’ve been there, we know."

As I said, my parents both held full-time jobs and then worked part-time cleaning office buildings, together.

"Who else are we going to spend it on?"

According to my husband, Garth (not his real name) they SHOULD be saving it for a rainy day.

"Besides, your poor husband needs a break."

I know – believe me, the man spends more time with the women at work than he does home with, you know, with me – since, he was the one who suggested I take the kids and stay over my parents house for the weekend.

"So does your daughter!"

Bless my mother’s heart.

"I know, dammit!"

Uh-oh.

"I didn’t say that you didn’t."

Ummmm.

"I’m not stupid, you know!"

[hands on hips]

"I didn’t say that you were?"

Hmmmm.

"You don’t HAVE to say anything!"

It was as if I’d never left, really.

"Are you coming, folks?"

Funny thing is – especially, the older my kids get – I’m beginning to understand my parents and believe that perhaps things weren’t as bad as they seemed, growing up.

Still, I missed the days when Garth (not his real name) and I started dating.  My parents fell in love with him, even before I did, and would invite him to stay the weekends when I was still living at home.  My father and Garth (not his real name) would race to see who could get up the earliest and be the first to make a pot of coffee!

[phone rings]

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and figured it must have been Garth (not his real name) calling to wish the kids good morning, before heading off to work.

"Wake up, Sweetie, I think daddy’s on the phone."

I nudged The Boy and was surprised to see that Mini-me had already crawled into bed with my parents.

"Daddy says to open the door!"

What?

"Daddy’s here!"

I rolled over, pulled the blinds apart to see Garth (not his real name) was indeed standing at the front door of my parents’ house and holding a box of Dunkin’ Donuts!

"And he bought Doofus-dog with him, too!"

Judging by the sounds coming out of the guest room – as Doofus-Dog slobbered all over me like a cheap porn star and nearly choked on my fist – I was well aware of that, too.

"I didn’t want to tell you that my schedule changed and mess with your sleepover plans."

But, he didn’t tell me THAT.

"I wanted to surprise you!"

He did, big time.

"I’ll go make the coffee."

All of a sudden, everything just sort of felt "right" again.

"Then, I’ll help you make breakfast."

AND I didn’t even HAVE to sleep with him – go figure!

© 2008 This Full House – All Rights Reserved.

[Please, clean off a chair and stay a while – subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed or – if you really, really like me – then Digg This, I’ll love you forever!]