The club awaits his return

My husband has been out of town for a week and a half. I have grown increasingly tired ever since. I could blame myself for not going to bed earlier, letting little things ride my nerves and failing to medicate myself heavily enough to sleep through some of the nighttime activities. But really, as if. My children and the three annoying dogs that dwell in my house are clearly to blame.

Highlights from the last week and a half include being held hostage by my children who now require the hall light on and every bedroom door open in order to even close their eyelids. And the night the dogs woke me every hour on the hour was pretty awesome, too.

My husband made the mistake of asking me repeatedly every day to recite for him the contents of our incoming mail. He couldn't seem to fathom a grown woman tossing mail on the counter and forgetting about it for days on end. I can't seem to fathom why I have to explain the frenzy that ensues from 5-7 pm in our house everyday. He lives here. He's familiar with the horrors that can take place.

Needy kids. Frantic dogs. Starving beasts of all shapes and sizes. Crap the dogs have shredded that needs to be cleaned up. People running out of clean underwear. Notes from teachers to read. Backpacks to pack. Lost shoes. Lost blankies. Lost patience. Death would have been preferable to the night we ran out of toothpaste and no one noticed until bed time. I realize strawberry flavored toothpaste is significantly tastier than plain old Colgate but despondent weeping on floor still seemed like a bit much.

Evenings are challenging with two parents on the job. One parent and you're mostly just hoping to get through it without anyone writing on your 400 thread count pillow cases with a black marker. Which, by the way, I'm a complete failure at. I like to tell myself the marker will come out in the laundry because it was dry erase not permanent marker. I also like to remind myself that it wasn't a top tier pillow case in the hierarchy that is my linen closet. That hierarchy begins at the top with pillow cases that make my day better and no one else is allowed to use, pillow cases I'm willing to sleep on, pillow cases for the lesser used pillows on our bed and finally pillow cases that are tolerable backups in the event someone throws up on every other pillow case we own. My husband's pillows typically get second tier pillow cases. Don't bother feeling sorry for him. Dude could not identify the different tiers if his life depended on it. And he was sleeping on 180 thread count sandpaper when I met him.

Anyhoo. Besides expecting daily incoming mail recitations, my husband has also succumbed to the Swine Flu paranoia. This included trying to convince me to not leave the house at one point and several symptoms he felt coming on. I have trouble taking him seriously though. Not because I don't take Swine Flu seriously but because my husband once told me his head was itchy despite the fact that he was four states away and nowhere near our lice ridden kids.

I guess he doesn't realize that when he goes out of town for more than three days sitting at my desk at work is practically like being on vacation. For example, I can't recall the last time someone in my office cried for 20 minutes over three drops of water on their shirt. The same cannot be said about my dining room tonight. Me thinks a certain five year old can't wait for her Daddy to come home. Join the club, kid.