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Maybe Just Faux Pearls and a Dustbuster?

This morning I woke up to rain and my husband leaving for the field (which, for those of you unfamiliar, basically means he’s going to play Army for a week). Now normally, this would upset me. Not in an extreme sense, but it’d bum me out. To be honest, I’m a bit surprised that I wasn’t the least put off by his being gone. 

Then again, it is Monday at noon. I might have to revisit the unbummed situation on Wednesday around six. 

Thus far, this stay-at-home-mom thing has been interesting, to say the (very, eensy teensy tiny) least. The first morning I was home for good, we got up around six fifteen. Which is totally one of my favorite parts about being a mom. Not. Anyway, at around seven thirty, my son starts looking at the kitchen table, and then looking at me with an expression similar to the RCA dog. After roughly ten minutes of this, I realize that he’s looking for his car seat, because that’s usually about the time we head out.  

Huh. I mean, I know kids are smart and that they learn at an astounding rate … but damn. That totally convinced me to buy that Your Baby Can Read thingy.

In any case, the whole day was really great. We bonded over squash, we tried to crawl, we folded laundry, we discussed the Somalian Pirate Issue (which I only capitalize because the phrase is just that friggin’ absurd), we kicked ass at Cash Cab. Altogether, it was really just a pleasant day. 

Then day two came.

Apparently, this is the day my son became convinced that I am going to desert him again if I leave his line of sight. And no length of discussion or games of around the corner peek-a-boo will deter him from this though process. He needs to be thisclosetome. 

I used to judge the women who were in sweats at four in the afternoon, or had an unswept pile of dirt in the middle of their kitchen floors, or had seven loads of laundry piled up. I mean, what did they do all day? I’ll tell you what they did; they convinced their kids they weren’t leaving. And I’m sure they wanted to complete their tasks as much as I want to complete mine. I’m sure they were as motivated to clean their houses and cook rounded meals as I am. I used to think I was ready to earn my pearls and vacuum. Now I just want to shower. 

Did I mention my full course load starts in a month? 

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