THE DAY MOMMY LOST HER MIND - PART I

When our kids were really little, Paul traveled quite a bit.

If you asked me at the time how much Paul traveled, I would have said "LIKE - ALL THE TIME!!!!" If you asked Paul how much he traveled, he would have said "Oh, my job is about eighty percent travel." Which was basically ALL THE TIME.

During those years he spent most of his time going to Peru, Columbia and Brazil. He did have a trip to Pakistan that REALLY put me over the edge, but that's another story. He typically left on Monday, returned on Friday; left on Monday returned on Friday...

When Kayla was born we both had hoped for a month with no travel, so I'd have time to regain my energy and acclimate to having two little ones at home, knowing Paul would walk in the door at the end of the day. We got three weeks, which at the time we thought was a gift. Looking back, it doesn't seem like such a nice gift. Kayla was three weeks old when Paul left the country on yet another weeks long trip, weekends at home, which may or may not have been a bonus.

I never admitted this to anybody at the time but it got to where I dreaded Fridays. I missed him terribly, and I wanted help with the kids, but when he walked in the door on Friday I instantly started dreading Monday; I didn't want to allow myself to enjoy his time at home because I knew he'd be leaving again in a short time. Plus, our weekends were very hectic because the routine I had established with the kids was broken and I'd have to dive back into it on Monday again.

One good thing that came of those difficult years was that I learned that I could do anything with the kids alone, night or day, sick or healthy. I really became a strong independent woman in my parenting, because there was no backup coming in the door at night. He couldn't slip away for dinner and give me a breather, he couldn't get home in a couple of hours if there was an emergency. It was just me. Which probably also added to the problems on weekends because things really needed to be done MY way in order to maintain the routine our family followed through the week.

Also during those years I gained a whole new, VERY DEEP respect for my mother who raised FOUR kids alone. I don't know how many times I'd put the kids to bed, collapse on the couch and actually say out loud "how did she DO it?" I gained a very deep respect for all single parents and, since Paul still travels some, I maintain that respect. How DO you do it?

As all mothers know, there is a "witching hour" with kids - usually around supper time. My mother used to say "is it the fussy hour?" when she'd call and hear chaos in the background. For us the fussy hour was usually 5 to 7.

With a traveling husband, not only was there a witching hour but there was a "witching day" and that day was usually Thursday. Everything seemed to fall apart on Thursday. I had always reached my limit in the single parent role on Thursday. So I learned to make Thursdays the special day and do something to break up the routine. I also learned to tell myself "Tomorrow will be better, it's always bad on Thursdays."

Anyway, with that background on my life as a stay-at-home mom with a fly-away husband, I want to record for my kids the less-than-sane moments their mother made them endure while trying to hold it all together at home while their daddy was establishing power plants in poor countries.

The first one is a story I remember telling my great aunts as we were talking about how frazzled young mothers become. I remember how all of them laughed at it and how magical their laughter sounded because I LOVE my great aunts. LOVE THE AUNTIES.

So the kids were about 2 1/2 and 5 and I had just had them sit at the bar for their bedtime snack. As was the routine, I listed three things they could choose from: "You may have a graham cracker, a cup of applesauce, or a strawberry bar (nutrigrain bar)"

"We want oreos."
"Can't we have a pop tart?"
"How about ice cream? We want ice cream?"
"Pancakes! Can you make pancakes."

"You may have a graham cracker, a cup of applesauce or a strawberry bar."

"We want.."

And this is when Mommy went a little crazy, talking through clenched teeth in all capital letters, placing a period after each word, eyes bulging...but not yelling.

"I. SAID. YOU. MAY. HAVE. A GRAHAM CRACKER. A CUP OF APPLESAUCE. OR....OR...

WHAT WAS THAT OTHER THING MOMMY SAID, FOR PETE'S SAKE?!!" Talking faster and faster with each word.

And with big wide eyes and teeny tiny voices they said "A strawberry bar mommy. You said strawberry bar." And I'm sure they were also silently praying that Daddy would get home very quickly.

So was I, children. So was I.