While he was out...

My husband went to Florida. Life isn't fair. Before he left he asked me not to attempt any painting projects while he was gone. It might help to give you a little context. The last time he went away I decided it would be a great idea for us to surprise him by re-decorating his office. So my neighbor helped me move all the furniture into the middle of the room and take everything off the walls. I decided to forgo spackling. It's highly overrated. Who minds a few holes in the wall here or there? A perfectionist, I am not.

I chose a great shade of red and purchased the paint committing my self to this course of action. Have I mentioned that Bill does all the painting in our home? There's a reason for that. I rarely succeed at jobs that require an ability to be precise. I'm intuitive. I don't like measuring and all that boring kind of stuff. Are you getting the feeling that this project of mine is destined for failure? Here's how it all went down. I marched those three kids in that office with a gallon of dark gray primer and all sorts of enthusiasm. We got primer on one wall. And on a few other things too. There was paint on the baseboard. Paint on the carpet. There was paint on Jack's arm. And paint in Emma's hair. And there was a frazzled Mom with no shred of her ridiculous optimism in tact.

So Bill returned home, weary from travel, to find the room in that state. The kids were saying, "Daddy we have a surprise for you!" I sheepishly opened the door and said "surprise". He looked at me and said evenly "Surprise you trashed my office?". You are correct, sir. He spent the next few days painting his "surprise" himself. This is why I purposely married a very patient man. It comes in handy given my personality. And painting ability.

So I honored his wishes. No painting projects this time. There were a few things that I did do and some that I didn't do while he was gone. They are as follows:

I did get the children to school without one single tardy. This is usually Bill's job since promptness is not exactly one of my virtues. But we did it, which was even more amazing since...

I did get the stomach flu. The night I was the sickest the children were left to fend for themselves for dinner. Tate and Em did fine with Easy Mac. Jack was a different story. The evidence (strewn on the kitchen floor) showed that his dinner consisted of 6 fruit snacks and a cheese stick.

I didn't take the trash out, at all . Call me old fashioned, but in my opinion there are some jobs that are distinctly boy jobs. Trash? Totally a boy job. Mowing the lawn? Boy job. Washing Dishes? Also a boy job.

I didn't feed the dog for approximately two days. I don't know how it happened. Maybe it's another boy job. Ruby took matters into her own hands and a woman three blocks away called saying "We have your dog and I think she's hungry. We're going to go ahead and feed her." Oops. Before you call Animal Protective Services, please know that I made it up to her...I gave her a cheese stick.

And finally, I did miss him like crazy.

He's home now and so the planets are aligned again around here.