I truly believe that you are not given more than you can handle, but when I returned home with the little hellions to hose them down after the ice cream to find out that Ham has yet another effing fever and when I changed him this morning and realized he has a rash after spending NINE hours in the doctor's office in the past week, it started to feel somebody has a voodoo doll and knows how to use it.
I don't remember signing up for this part of parenting. I mean, I knew parts would suck, and things can always be worse but this is getting almost comical. I also don't remember signing up for this single parenting crap. Not that I am single, but for whatever reason the nature of the beast is that all husbands must leave their families and harass people afar, while the women folk stay home and over caffeinate themselves. I guess in this economy you just say thank you may I have another.
Some days I get all nostalgic for my old life, the spoiled one that had me skiing in Switzerland one week and in Egypt the next. The one that had me singing Cat Stevens songs along with friends at a pub. I had a little break and went to London in January, the songs at the pub were different but the feeling was the same. Perhaps I gave myself bad karma because the scheiße has been hitting the fan ever since. I was ready to come home to the snotty noses after a week and really missed my family, but another little break would be nice. Or at least the ability to go for a run.
I recently asked my mom how my Grandma managed with six kids. "She started drinking rum and coke at noon and would lock us out of the house." Ah, the good old fifties. Not that I am about to drink rum and coke (mainly because I can't stand rum) but if I could find that voodoo doll I would be happy.