Early this morning Justin got up and left for another long trip in Alaska. Instead of nineteen days like last time, this one is seventeen. Somehow those two less days are supposed to make me feel better, according to him. But since I’ve still got a weird nervous tick leftover from his last trip, that small difference isn’t much consolation.
Considering last time I did it completely by myself, with the added fun of hitting someone’s car with the truck, getting a flat tire on the car, my forth round of Pink Eye in two months, and switching my children to their new daycare, you’d think I’d be a pro in “crazy” by now. You think that I’d feel excited to show off my new skills as uber-super-mom. But you’d be wrong. Part of it is sheer exhaustion. Most of it is my pessimistic nature–I’m imagining a complete Murphy’s Law Smack-Down–some crazy combo of catastrophes including, but not limited to: fire, ER visits, frozen exploding pipes, rabid dogs, and/or spontaneous combustion of my head from the most heinous bout of Pink Eye ever to slime the human race (which, if that happened, would be my sixth episode).
This time, though, my MIL is planning on coming out to help. It will be nice to have an extra pair of hands around the house since besides my usual 40-hr week and 15+ hrs of commuting, I get to work for 2-3 hours in the evenings twice this week. I’m not sure how long she will be able to stay, but even two or three days would be a huge help. Longer than than and I might start questioning her mental state cuz by Wednesday or Thursday I am pretty mental myself.
So tonight, as I fold the three loads of laundry I washed Tuesday (or was it Wednesday?), I will raise my glass of Hen Pecked Red in honor of my mother-in-law, and for high hopes for a less exciting time at home without Justin for the next sixteen days.
Yes, that’s a real wine. It’s actually very tasty and hope to get a hold of some more very soon.
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