Disclaimer: There is a seriously self-congratulatory tone to most of this one, but if you bear with me, there may be lessons learned and some self-recrimination too. See if you can hold on long enough to get to that part.
With Chris being home again, I suddenly realized that my year of
Oddly enough, the ones that spring to mind are as follows:
Now I can't buy a box of Pot of Gold and eat the entire thing, while watching tv. ...actually, insert "tube of cookie dough" or "tub of Haagen Dazs" for "Pot of Gold", and I think that's about it.
Over the year* -- and here's where I pat my own back and toot my own horn -- I managed to keep all three kids alive, which, given their penchant for danger and adventure (and often, their screamy and disreputable behaviour), deserves, if not a trophy, then at least my own talk show and also an island, as a reward. I managed to get one kid off to school for the first time, and returned to work (part time). I developed and implemented a pretty fancy cleaning schedule that has kept my house cleaner than it has ever been before (not without thanks to our amazing nanny), and that I'm still loosely adhering to. The kids got attention (even bad attention is good attention, right?), outings, restaurant meals every second week, activities like gymnastics, soccer and dance, and no communicable diseases. The were clean, dressed, fed (very healthily!), and although are not yet the super-polite, incredibly respectful little beings that I'm trying to force them to be, at least haven't bitten anyone in public. Yet.
I have taught BodyAttack, faithfully, every Saturday morning, so I must have maintained some kind of fitness level, despite not being able to get to the gym more than one other time a week, ever. This can probably be explained by the 10,000 pushup/burpee/situp challenge, which NO, I still haven't finished, but I swear that I will. I also completed all levels of Dance Central 1 and 2 on our XBox, which kept me entertained for a few months, and I'm happy to say that my infatuation with Angel, my CGI Dance Central boyfriend**, has subsided since Chris' return. I also played ball hockey almost every Thursday night. The few times that no babysitters were available, well, I have to admit that the ensuing disappointment translated into wrath, landing squarely on the heads of three little hufflings. I mean, it's my One Night Out where I get to be a fun person again, not just a mom, not just a coworker, and if you take that away, I get cwanky.
The lawn has lots more weeds than usual (but still not a lot, unless you count the side yard, which I don't), and has only been fertilized once so far. The garden has two surviving bean plants (damn squirrels), several lush beet plants, lots of leafy spinach plants, and not one carrot. Not one! My tomato plant yielded one beautiful tomato, but was eaten by -- you guessed it -- the damn squirrels.
Around the house, the basement is 99.5% finished, with the last LAST last step being to finish painting/carpeting the basement stairs (they're (somewhat badly) primed, but look pretty good as is, considering that they're basement stairs). Over the year, I painted lots of trim and shelving. I had the main floor and stairways painted by professionals. I've reorganized the living room, and set up a lovely deck lounge. I even fashioned a very nice canopy out of fade-resistant material, to lessen the heat from the sun beating down on the deck, through the plexiglass roof on the pergola. I bought, built, and (mostly) installed an awesome new headboard that makes our bedroom almost look like grownups might sleep there.
I didn't drink very much (considering), because you
The inital transition when he left was hard. The kids were sad, there were too many changes, and too many things that I was solely responsible for. But I feel pretty good about how I rallied. I'm pretty sure that, even though I didn't come out of it with a(nother) Masters Degree (kaff), I learned even more than Chris did. I learned that I can be happily alone without being lonely. That I can do the impossible, and sustain it for months. This new transition, of having Daddy around, underfoot, interfering in Mommy's Way, is, in a way, even harder.
Looking ahead, I almost feel that I have to convince myself that it is good to have him back. Because now I can slack off on the housework a bit (and only be fully responsible for laundering kids' clothes and diapers). I don't have to plan everything to the nth degree, because I have someone to help. I can actually leave the house in the evening to go for a run or to the gym***, or pick up an extra class here and there. I got a haircut for the first time in 17 months. I went to le Nordik for a day of reward. There's someone in my bed at night and when I wake up.
But now there's someone in my bed at night and when I wake up. This impacts important activities like tossing and turning, turning on lights in the morning, snacking while reading, and/or doing my nails in bed. There's someone underfoot, helping me to make breakfast, lunch, or dinner. There's someone helping with the housework, meaning that the onus isn't solely on me, meaning that maybe the cleaning schedule has sort of fallen by the wayside. There's someone who wants a say (!!!) in what we do, where we go, what we eat, what we watch. After a year of autonomy and complete control, I have to compromise.****
So, for the next little while, I'll continue to try to find balance (the balance that I haven't had in a year, aside from Thursday nights), try to appreciate the extra set of hands, the opportunity to actually play with the kids again, instead of always multi-tasking, and maybe even get to sleep in once in a while. And maybe I'll even go out and buy myself some good drugstore bonbons and eat them all in one sitting, hiding in the basement. But probably not.
* *It was actually 11 months, but I deserve credit for at least a year.
** Chris wants me to point out that Angel is not only CGI (and therefore not real), but also gay. No he isn't.
*** This may actually happen! It hasn't yet, but it totally could.