There are a few things that are true about holiday weekends when you are a working parent with children. The first is that someone is going to vomit from something at some point. This is unavoidable. It’s not even legally considered a holiday unless someone spontaneously throws up in either a) the car or b) someone else’s house, preferably both, and in an inexplicable way that gets everyone worried they’re going to be the next to go. Could it be car sickness? Maybe. Could it also be Dengue Fever? Yes.
The second is this: that even though you already know your children better than anyone (yes yes), you will GET INSIDE EACH OTHER’S BRAINS IN A WAY THAT YOU HAVEN’T SINCE YOUR LAST LONG WEEKEND TOGETHER. You will remember all kinds of old stuff, and re-learn all kinds of new stuff. For instance, sometimes your seven year old says the word “sexy.” She has no idea what it means but heard it from older children on the school bus. Haha! (Note to self—home schooling.)
Here’s what my family learned/re-learned about me.
- The way to get a lot of attention from me is to NOT EAT anything for breakfast. When this happens, I will chase them around the yard with a cup of yogurt until I am satisfied that enough nutrients are coursing through their digestive system. This can take all morning, and it is fun to watch me grow increasingly frazzled as I imagine IQ points slipping away.
- Another way to get a lot of attention from me is to pretend to have to go to the bathroom. No matter what I am doing, I will drop everything if someone needs to go to the bathroom, and this is because I am very well potty trained.
- Never mention that you just saw a rustic handwritten sign advertising “fresh eggs this way” with an arrow pointing somewhere. I will turn that car around on a dime and drive 150 miles to get to them, and then I will rhapsodize about the deliciousness of the eggs and their golden hue for days. I hope everyone had fun in the sun leading up to this moment because we are not getting out of this car until Mommy’s pathological need to attend farmers markets is fully addressed.
- I am a champion toad catcher.
- I can be bought. I will let you wear your pajamas all day if they (sort of) look like regular clothes AND we can have backwards day (dessert first) IF you agree to tickle my back and play with my hair at a time of my choosing for as long as I say. Times three children. Plus–bring me my coffee so I can sit here in a sunbeam and sip it while you do your ‘work’. Plus plus eat your yogurt so I can relax, there’s a farmer’s market I want to hit later and I need my hair really silky before we head out.
I’m nothing if not practical.
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