Me Against the...??

It's that time of year again.  The time of year that I dread.  Not school shopping, not family reunions, not car maintenance, not my yearly attempt to walk around the block in an attempt to exercise.

It's far worse than that....it's Thomas's out-of-town conference.  This leaves me at home...alone...with this:

This is everyone...except Chompers, the bearded dragon.  More on him later.

We are all VERY well aware that I would make the most abysmal single parent.  I truly believe that Thomas coincidentally needs to go out of town, by himself, once a year to ensure his proper title of "President of Keeping Mommy's Shit Together."

Inevitably, like Murphy's Law (which I often humbly refer to ) some weird stuff will happen that is either out of the norm, or Thomas is just really good at dealing with on a regular basis (most likely the latter).

I am a terrible cook.  I'm a REALLY good baker, but I cannot cook.  If any of you compare this to my own mother's cooking, I'm going to shank you.

So, in preparation for Thomas being gone for four days, I loaded my fridge with ready-made wraps and salads from Trader Joe's.  In my excitement on non-cooking, I guess I should have asked the kids if this is what they wanted, because apparently my selection resulted in the faces you see in the photo above.  They immediately asked for cheeseburgers.  The last time I microwaved the cheeseburgers from Costco, the bread turned into bricks.  When I threatened that...they said it was better than some of the alternatives.

I'm deadening my children's tastebuds!  CRAP!  Now what?  They'd rather have cardboard cheeseburgers than some of my other choices?  They MUST be bad!

This is also the week that Dylan came down with his first cold in 9 months.  Of course.  He feels like poop, and has turned into a cranky mouth-breather.

This means no swimming, bike-riding, and all the other activities put into place so that my children do not tear each other limb from limb.  Excellent.  They are now movie-watching couch potatoes...in separate rooms, with me running interference.  Mom of the year here!

The animals.

My normal duties do not include animal care.  If you remember my article from last year, I swore that I would never ask for another animal again.  Thomas is the animal guy, and while I usually deal with the children and lunch (I can make a mean peanut butter and jelly), Thomas is the animal and dinner dude.

So far, in two days:
-Lenox cleaned the cat litter box for me...with his mouth.  Then came to me with a beard full of litter, smiling.

-I had to feed Chompers, the cranky bearded dragon.  Envision this...10pm, after rehearsal, putting kids to bed when I realize that I haven't fed the prehistoric darling yet.  Now picture me trying to swiftly open the enclosure door and flinging lettuce in and trying to shut the glass before he eats us.

-Isabel, the cat with dementia who is still howling all night long, eats her breakfast in peace, then climbs onto one of only four pieces of furniture in the house with fabric on it, and projectile pukes up said breakfast all over that chair AND the carpet.

-Joseph, the rat (Dylan's last birthday present) decided to chew on my finger rather than the pellet I was trying to hand him.  Nice, rat, bite the hand that feeds you.  To which Dylan responds, "Hmm, he doesn't do that to me.  Maybe he likes me more."

-Holly likes to talk.  By talk I mean sing. By sing, I mean howling at my head at 6:30 in the morning...in the summer.

-Plus, these animals are in such a routine, thanks to my tad-OCD husband, that ALL animals look at me like I have a mental deficiency...because I am CLEARLY not doing things "the way Daddy does."

WELL...DADDY'S NOT HERE, DAMMIT!

So, we're on day two.  I'm behaving as if it's day 47.  Day starts at 6:30, and since the kids are in rehearsals for Hairspray, we're not coming home until 9:30, at which point the whole animal process has to start again.  After two walks, feeding, cleaning, whatever, it's now too late for even a glass of wine, which means I flop into bed, careful not to disturb Dylan, who has been planning a sleepover with me for weeks and watch a little Rizzoli & Isles.  I don't normally sleep very well when Thomas is out of town, but that is exacerbated by a small human who manages to take up and entire king-sized bed.  And...he coughs in his sleep...in my face.

On a brighter note, the guinea pigs haven't pissed me off yet.

Help me Obi-Wan Thomas, you're my only hope!  Come home soon! We miss you!