Saturday, October 23, 2010

Leaving on a Jet Plane...Or Not

Something happened yesterday and I needed and wanted to share because it's important and because I'm a jackhole if I don't.

Yesterday morning, I was sitting alone in the house for those blissful 2.5 hours when there are no children here. I had melted into the sofa, and had *officially* surrendered. Big time surrender. Glasses, yoga pants, whack t-shirt (but not the Boobs Akimbo T-shirt) and sneakers. And I was NOT headed to the gym, or coming home from the gym. I was looking at the Doomsday clock in my house and watching it basically say, "thirteen hours until McLovin leaves..." and hating life.

I'm watching the Big Bang Theory and McLovin calls and we're blathering back and forth, mostly me, because I've worked overnights all this week, which just makes me stupid because I sleep for about 18 minutes between when I get home from work and when I have to get up for kids and school and breakfast and why do we have time zones? Because if London was on the same time zone as us, then 2am would be 2am everywhere and everyone could get some freakin' sleep. They just need to get used to it being sunrise at 11:45pm. I think it's only fair. I'm invoking the "We're Bigger" Rule here. That's what she said.

[Editor's note: Kate works for English people. - Lydia]

So, he says something about, "hey! so, I'm in the office in a meeting with..." and then I'm super interested because Sheldon is reciting all the stars that are closest to Earth and "isn't that great?" and what?

Four important lessons here:
  1. Talking to me during Big Bang Theory is maybe not the best idea...
  2. It was TiVo'ed so maybe I could have hit pause...
  3. Starting any sentence with "I was in a meeting..." guarantees I'm not listening anymore...sorry, but it's true. That man spends six thousand hours a day in meetings. I was in a day long meeting for ten minutes last week.
  4. What's great is not that I now know the stars in decreasing proximity to Earth, but that McLovin is not going to Again-istan.
Which should have elicited a scream and a touchdown dance and possibly even a THAT'S RIGHT! yelled out into my front yard. Which you think might be rare but not really. Must be odd for our neighbor across the street to be out pruning her begonias, see me come outside right to the curb, do the double pointing fingers like you're in the beginning of a snap-off brawl/dance between the Sharks and the Jets and yell out "THAAAAAAAT'S RIGHT!" and then just walk back inside. Maybe I should consider the back yard as an alternative?

But because I'm -- me, I think I said something awesome and understanding like, "what...ugh. Are you kidding? Why?" because all I'm thinking is that I had cereal and tomatoes out for dinner tonight because that's what the kids love and he just looks very confused when I do that and, well, c'mon. You wrap your brain around a plan -- even if that plan sucks hot monkey balls, like your husband going to Again-istan -- and you do what you gotta do. The Bride was coming over that night to help me manage the kids take my mind off it be supportive drink and we were just going to make the best of it. See friends, eat weird things for dinner, and possibly let the house and the dog and the kids and me surrender because that's what you're allowed to do when your husband goes to Again-istan.

Here's how our week went:
  • Lefty spent days glaring at everyone because Again-istan was so far away that even Google -- the end-all, be-all, know-all of his universe -- couldn't figure it out. And if Google can't find it, then how were we supposed to be able to find a phone there so we could talk to him?
  • Happy -- HAPPY! he has that name for a reason -- was King of the Meltdowns. All week. At preschool, the grocery store, when he woke up, when he went to sleep...when he couldn't figure out Blue's Clues, and when Diego was a re-run.
  • McGee just looked wounded. And took this week to start reading the newspaper, and asking things like, "Mom, which country is Kabul in? What about Kandahar? They're both in Afghanistan. Didja read this?" and would thrust a paper under my nose talking about explosions and such.
I broke down on Wednesday morning. Called Lydia on the verge of tears. OK, fine...full tears. I had a bad feeling, this trip wasn't going to go well. How many times can you avoid bad things happening to you when you're in a country where bad things happen all the time? She was everything a friend is supposed to be during my Chernobyl meltdown. "He's going to be fine. Cherish your time together now. You can't do this to yourself, the kids will fall apart." She probably really really needed me to stop flipping out. It's like if she showed up at my house saying, "I'm going to the runway show at Prada. You in?" Well, the first answer would be YES! but I'd be like, "umm, Lydia? Prada?" and then my head would implode, which is WAY harder to do because the brain-y parts get in the way.

Look, don't get me wrong. We're THRILLED he's not going. But we also know that 1) it only means he's not going RIGHT NOW; and 2) it's kinda hard to brace and prep and dread and then sorta reconcile it and just make plans around it only to have it all sproing! back. I think we all kind of have whiplash.

As for me, well, let me step back for a minute. Thursday morning, after the 9:20am Happy Meltdown in front of EVERYONE at the preschool, I lost it.

And got weepy, because we only had one more day and I was scared and bombs and things like "collateral damage" were going through my head and the point is I saw Mrs. Darling - who is awesome and funny and totally gets my weirdness AND I saw the Preschool Principal who is kinda hardcore, which makes me love her even more because she's always just this side of Chuck Norris-ing something but since they're little kids she keeps it in check. Add in the whack novelty headbands with the springs and bouncy spiders that she puts in her hair and you know the kids are like, "OH! I loooooove your headband!" and she's all "Thanks little dude!" and if you said the exact same words she'd punch you in the throat, but only after you walked your kid into class because she wants to lurk and wait for you to slowly wander back and then you're on the floor and the only evidence is this flash of long blonde curly hair and bouncy spiders on springs. The point is, I. Almost. Hugged. Them.

[Editor's Note: Kate does not hug. Does NOT. - Lydia]
I was so whacked out I almost hugged people. And I came here and boo-hoo'ed all over the blog and I pulled myself out of work on Friday so I could be with McLovin and do the dramatic cab pulls up to the driveway and we all stand there weepy when he got in and drove away and then he didn't go and now I'm an a**hole.  For lots of reasons...because part of me was like, "Whuck?! We're all planned for you to go..." and I didn't just WOOT! all over the place instead. Because there's a million moms out there in America -- and here in MommyLand  -- that don't get that last minute reprieve and ALSO don't whine and moan all over the place like I did for the past week...because I'm irritated that this could all change next week and then we do it all over again...because I couldn't just suck it up and be the freakin' grown-up in this house and had to make it all about me me me. And everyone was so awesome yesterday, sending messages and then I had to be all "oh, never bad" like a dick. Ugh. I'm totally Chicken Little. And let's not forget about the hugging. Gross.

You know who's thrilled that McLovin isn't in Again-istan right now? McLovin. And that's enough for all of us. I'm so so so happy you're home baby. Truly and really and I'm sorry I didn't say that the first time.

By the way, all I have planned for dinner this week is cereal and sliced tomatoes. Hope that's OK. It's actually awesome. But you being home? Even awesomer.

xoxo Kate

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2010

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