My husband went out of town for training this morning. Again. He'll be gone about ten days. Everytime he goes, I begin contemplating my own death about 12 hours later. Or I at least start brainstorming places to hide to get a moment alone and excuses to give our children Benadryl.
Mostly it's the three year old I wouldn't mind medicating. She's chatty. And helpful. And chatty while being helpful. She's also really into me specifically. That only seems super cute until she's supervising my bathroom breaks and instructing me on when I'm allowed to eat. The other day she put herself in charge of distributing goldfish crackers. I didn't get the snacktime handbook but apparently there's a rule about no one eating until everyone has some. And a napkin. And she's watching so don't try slipping one in your mouth like she won't notice. Because she will. And then you'll really get it. Trust me.
My mother is conveniently coming over to stay with us this week. Not because of my husband being out of town. She's just working out of the office in our area so she thought she'd save herself some travel time. Talk about good timing.
Maybe it's the universe working in my favor. Maybe the universe heard the voices screaming inside my head when my husband told me about the upcoming trip. I like to think the universe decided to throw me a bone and send her over for a few days. Of course, I'd also like to think the universe thinks I'm too young and beautiful to do laundry. But, alas, there are three baskets waiting for me in front of the dryer. I guess I'll take what I can get.