Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Sticks and Stones...

Tomorrow afternoon I'm getting on an airplane and taking a five day sabbatical.  Alone.  No children, no husband, no responsibilities other than making sure I get on the right plane at the appropriate gate. 

I will miss only three things.  The cool, crisp Autumn weather I'm leaving behind.  The silly conversations I have with Eric right before I fall asleep and my dogs.  Where, in this equation, are my children?  Am I an awful mother?  I'll let you, my readers and friends, consider this.  I am beyond worrying about it today.  I have some last minute laundry to do, medications to organize, and a multitude of lists and emergency instructions to prepare as I'm determined not to receive desperate phone calls during my time away.

My sisters and mother, after having resolved that I'm teetering dangerously close to a maternal meltdown, have purchased me a ticket to sunny Southern California where they live.  I suspect I won't have much "down" time.  My family is always on the go, planning and arranging some get-together or activity.  I'm fine with this.  As long as the chaos is not my own, I can settle into it with a comfortable ease. 

I just need a break from the constant adolescent turmoil which has erupted in the Potts' household over the last several months.  I'm desperate for time away from my kiddos accusing me of being heartless or cruel.  I can only be called a "Bitch" so many times before my hard shell starts cracking (literally).  I'm tough - but not that tough.  Growing up in my family, if I called my mom this (of course I thought it more than I care to admit), I would suffer a punishment greater than death.  Here, in my household, it's just one of the many adjectives which seem to adhere to my title.  

So, this Bitch is done.  She's off tomorrow.  No mas (no more).  "Hey, mom!" will leave the building.  Here are a couple of suggestions for my kiddos just in case...
  • If the TV remote control is lost, look for it where you last left it.  My suggestion is under the sofa cushions.
  • Dad made cold sandwiches and chips again for dinner?  Thank him (because I know he'd rather not have made anything at all) and maybe next week when I get back, you'll appreciate that I cook a hot meal every night of the week. 
  • Dessert after dinner?  Have an apple.
  • If it rains, get your umbrella out, William.  Dad won't be driving you to school.  
  • No special laundry requests this week.  Wash it yourself if you must wear it so desperately.
  • If there's a movie you want to see this weekend, you'll have to wait.  Dad doesn't like going to the movies.  Oh - wait, I don't have any money.  I don't work.  I don't make a living.  I'm just a housewife.  I can't take you to the movie anyway.  Never mind.
My goodness - I'm already feeling better!  Bring on my sister's houseful of teens.  At least her chaos isn't mine and the monsters in it won't call me nasty names.



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