Maybe I'm Not Ready for Roommates

Today was the first day of Sean's 11 day trip.  Hopefully all goes well, and he's actually home in 11 days.  I know when he returns, we will have lots of broken stuff for him to fix.  Already, after day 1, we have a doll house and a lawn mower in need of repair.  The lawn mower actually broke yesterday.  But Sean fixed it.  It wouldn't start, he replaced a spark plug and cleaned the carburetor.  It started last night.  And again this afternoon.  Then it stopped.  I restarted it.  Then it stopped.  About 10 times I restarted it and it stopped.  Enough so that I could at least get most of the back yard mowed.  Then it blew up.  I didn't flinch.  Things are always blowing up around here. 

I loaded that sucker right into the minivan and called the repair shop.  When I say "right into" really it took me about an hour.  I had to vacuum first.  I was having some problems maneuvering it around the goldfish crackers.  They giggled a little.  The goldfish.  Till I sucked them up.  Look who's laughing now, suckers! 

Since I've accepted the fact there is not a chance in hell I could be a lady of leisure, I am a lady of lawn.  I like to cut it and I can't stand it tickling anywhere higher than my ankle bone when I'm chasing the triple threat.  It makes it harder to find dog poop, kid poop, and my belongings that the children have hid when I've neglected it. 

Last weekend we went to a cook out at a friends' home.  Two guys, roommates, living together.  Lillian has been to this house many times before, but she wanted a tour.  She also wanted to know why they had two separate beds in two separate rooms?  And why don't they live with their wives?  Why don't they have wives?  She presumed that these men have been proposed to before but told their prospective wives, sorry, I already have a roommate.  Or she guessed, "Maybe they're just not ready to get married yet."   

I did eat three times today, not meals, but something.  Three times.  This morning I even ate cherries sitting down.  And had time to spit out the seeds.  Instead of just swallowing them.  Still, I choked on one as I bolted from the table, wildly explaining with my hands, since I couldn't breath, why it's important to keep our hands to ourselves.  While I expressed with my hands, I kicked myself in the ass for not teaching my babies sign language at two weeks of age like all the other good mothers do.

Lillian - Mom, Grady hit me!  Put him in time out!
Me - You just hit him!
Lillian - No, I didn't!
Me- Yes, you did!  I saw you!
Lillian - No, I didn't!  He ran away too fast!

When Sean goes on trips, it feels like I have roommates.  Three of them.  And a dog.  But these roommates suck.  They don't help with the dog.  They leave sippy cups full of spoiled milk everywhere and pass out in my bed every night.  They poop in their pants, hog the television, and eat all the good snacks.  And they keep calling me mom.  It's a little weird if you ask me.  Maybe I'm not ready for this I think.  Then I remember.  They're not my roommates.  They're my babies.  I've been ready for this my whole life.  They're the best babies I ever had. 

I should make out with the snowball guy for giving me my peaceful moment of the day.