But because it means Scott will be 'gone fishing' from Thursday through late Sunday night or God forbid, Monday.
I have to mentally prepare myself for weeks ahead of time.
Lucky for me I just returned from a weekend getaway in Lovely Las Vegas. Lots of quality time with Scott, some quality 'me time' (aka shopping, walking, and relaxing with a massage), and of course the occasional drink or two (wink wink). I can't say too much because we all know that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Don't worry, it was nothing like the Katy Perry song.
And yet, I could have used a couple more days. Or some yoga or meditation or something to prepare me for this.
Being an ice fishing widow isn't easy. Last year, for example, I was stuck with two sick kids, one who was hospitalized shortly after said ice fishing weekend. Thankfully, knock on a big wood door, we are all in good health this weekend.
But what I didn't anticipate was the total defiance, lack of listening, running off in the middle of the store, and screaming in public places. And that was just Kiley by noon today.
Our trip to Target this morning was comical to say the least. Though I wasn't thinking that the people staring at me and judging me thought it was very comical at the time. I could actually see it in their eyes:
"Poor thing, I bet her husband is ice fishing this weekend."
"Such cute kids, it's a shame they don't behave better for that poor ice fishing widow."
"Did you see that girl just whack her mom in the face? Bet that one hurt."
"I guess that boy should have been sitting on the cart seat so he didn't fall down, huh."
"Why would you take kids like that to Target?"
And I'm sure most of them were thinking:
"Thank God that isn't me!!"
Oh yes, I got some looks. Especially as Kiley was going in for the second punch and I reach my hand up to protect myself, only to scratch her in the mouth, drawing just the tiniest little bit of blood...and then when I was trying to move the cart- you know, one of those really big oversized two seaters that they just have to make so friggen hard to move, it's like driving a semi-trailer in Target- Jaxon of course was goofing off so he fell right into the base of it, meanwhile Kiley is screaming and crying that I hit her... it was lovely.
I can usually handle the stuff in public with a good amount of grace, humor and tact. But in the privacy of my own home... that is where I sometimes lose it.
Now I would never publicly write about this if I didn't know that it happens every day in all those perfect kids' homes too. No family is perfect and no parent has all the answers.
Sometimes you have to use idle threats. Like today when I pretended to call Jenny and had a whole conversation with her about how we were not going to be able to go to Elmo Live tonight because my kids were being BEASTS and wouldn't take a nap.
At one point I went upstairs and almost got caught in the crossfires of Brown Bear Brown Bear and Mr. Seahorse being flung across beds. Time to get to separate rooms. Ugh!
But since I had a few outbursts and felt really bad about them already this weekend, I knew I had to keep my cool. I thought, how in the hell do I get a five year old to listen to me?
Make it the other kids' fault.
So when Jaxon came down for the umpteenth time to tell me something, I said, hey look Jaxon. I know it's all Kiley's fault- the book catapulting, the story telling, saying 'butt' as loud as you can, and jumping on your bed. I know she is the main reason you can't go to sleep. What do you say we try to ignore her and that will make her mad so she'll just go to bed.
Well, I'm not perfect, but at least this bought me some quiet time and so far seems to be working...
Now to mentally prepare myself for the rest of the weekend...
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