A few weeks back, I boarded a plane and embarked on a five-day getaway. This trip had been in the works for months, and I believed I had everything in place to ensure that my household ran smoothly during my absence. I filled the fridge, laid out the kids’ school outfits, and organized their transportation to and from school. My partner may not be the best cook, but he’s an excellent dad, so I wasn’t overly concerned about their well-being. I gave him very little guidance because, let’s face it, as long as the house was intact and the kids were safe when I returned, I’d consider it a success.
So, off I went.
The first message arrived shortly after I left home that morning. “Honey, the school is locked. How do we get in?” Seriously? It’s 2023; schools are locked now due to safety concerns.
“This isn’t new, sweetheart. Just ring the buzzer, and they’ll let you in through the office.” I quickly replied, perhaps rolling my eyes, and tucked my phone away, hoping this wasn’t an omen of the chaos ahead.
My mother, perhaps out of concern for my husband’s ability to manage alone or an undisclosed favoritism, offered to take the kids overnight for a few days while I was away. It’s probably the latter since she never offered me the same when he was out of town. But I digress.
While the kids were with Grandma, I received another call. My mom informed me that the little ones were “coming down with something.” Of course they were. “Send them back to their dad. I’m enjoying margaritas and chips three states away right now,” is what I wanted to say. Instead, I held back because (1) I didn’t want to be the “bad mom,” and (2) the mom guilt was real; I felt awful not being there if they were unwell.
Mom reassured me it was probably just a cold and promised to keep me updated. But that didn’t stop me from spending the next 12 hours fretting over their well-being.
The following morning brought another call, “Hi, I’m at the elementary school, but Claire says she feels like she’s going to be sick.” Seriously? I’ve only been gone 24 hours!
My six-year-old tends to be a bit dramatic, making it hard to determine if she was genuinely ill or just faking to skip school and indulge in Grandma’s treats. Unable to assess the situation in person, I allowed her to stay home with Grandma. Whatever.
“If she’s really sick, I’ll eat my shoe,” I said before hanging up. Thankfully, there was no one around to hold me accountable because just 15 minutes later, my mom called back to inform me that Claire had gotten sick in her car. I offered to come home because now my mom would have to deal with the lingering stench of vomit in her vehicle. Again, she reassured me that everything was handled and they were returning home for a bath. The rest of the day was filled with picture messages of my child, who appeared perfectly fine, dancing around while munching on Fruit by the Foot. Risky move, but not my carpet to clean.
Later that afternoon, my husband picked up the kids, and I anxiously awaited the next update, fully aware it was coming.
This time, rather than a phone call, I received a picture message of a massive brush fire. I had joked about him not burning the house down, but now I was genuinely worried. When I requested more details, my husband mentioned he had to call me back because our four-year-old had just jumped into the creek… fully clothed… in 40-degree weather.
For any dads out there, maybe try, “Hey, I’ll call you right back,” and skip the drowning part.
After what felt like an eternity, my husband called back to clarify that the creek was nearly dry at the time, and everyone was still alive.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I returned home the next day to find the house intact. Sure, there were towering piles of dishes and laundry that would take ages to catch up on, but everyone was safe. And honestly, that was my only request when I left a week prior, so I guess I got exactly what I asked for.
In summary, taking a break as a mom can lead to unexpected chaos, but sometimes, all you can hope for is that everyone survives the experience.
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