I should have known the weekend of silence wouldn’t have gone the way I’d dreamed on Saturday morning when all hell broke loose.
This summer hasn’t exactly been the most exciting one, at least not for the kids. This past weekend, my inlaws had offered to take the girls for 4(!) days, to include a trip to Busch Gardens. Saturday morning Kim set out with Katy in tow to get some school clothes during the tax free weekend, but when she returned to the car at her second stop, it wouldn’t start. Plans started to dissolve around us as I packed two kids in my commuting car to get Mom and Katy and wait for a tow truck. We tried jumping the van, but it just wouldn’t turn over, so I sent Kim home in my car with the kids and waited for a tow truck, while she called her folks to let them know we wouldn’t be able to drive the kids down after all.
Sunday, Kim’s folks drove up to get the kids, and her Dad helped me fix the van. It seems that despite the fact that just about every electrical component in the van was operational (or at least it was after successive jump attempts), replacing the battery was the magic sauce to getting it working again. Thankfully we did that ourselves, saving us another tow truck plus labor, shop fees, and whatnot. And the kids were off to their grandparents for a few days!
Little did I know how weak I was. You see, Kim is home with them just about 24/7. The break and silence was a welcome thing for her, a momentary return to sanity. By the next morning, she looked younger – less frowning, less fight breaking, less stress all around. She needed this kind of extended break in a way I couldn’t begin to appreciate.
I, on the other hand, was morose. How was I to know ahead of time that I had actually grown accustomed to the din of the children? For the most part, I only see them for extended periods of time on the weekends. I mean, I see them on weekdays too – but just for an hour or three in the morning, maybe an hour or so when I get home if I’m lucky, but in both cases I see them either just before they’re wound up, or just after they’ve wound down. I miss the daily arguments, snits, break downs, pleas, and schizophrenic flip-flops of three girls kids. When we came back from grabbing some food Sunday, I actually felt a little sad that we weren’t met with cries of “Mommy!” or “Daddy!” as arms were flung around us.
I was, for lack of a better word, pathetic. I spent most of the time noticing how absolutely quiet the house was, how there was no one underfoot or demanding a snack. Growing up an only child, I never had other kids around me, so I’m not sure where this comes from, but although some may scoff and say we have a “large” family, that din of kids talking and laughing and yelling is part of what makes me feel comfortable at home. It isn’t the same with them gone.
Alas, the break was not permanent. We drove them home Tuesday (after a brief blimp chase on the way to get them 😉 ), and discovered that their new backpacks had been delivered. These kids are so excited, that this is what we were greeted with this morning:
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They’re super excited. School is less than two weeks from starting, and the new backpacks is the first tangible piece of evidence they have. And yes, Tara is grinning furiously – she picked it out of the catalog herself (red? who knew that was her color??).
So I was sitting at our desk morning, me on my side, Kim on hers, while the kids argued over something – TV or computer time, take your pick. She rolled her eyes with a grimace, muttering “They’re back.” Me? I smiled from ear to ear and whispered, “They’re back :)”