She Said: “There’s No Place Like Home”
Hubby often says, while on business trips, “Wow, babe. I’m sorry… I so wish I was just home with you. It sucks being away from you and the kids. I wish I were home.”
Okay, so I normally wouldn’t bring this up, but we recently had a mini blow out about an opportunity I have upcoming for a Girls’ Weekend. Wahh, wahh, wahh… is all I have to say.
- He gets to sleep in a hotel with 400 – 600 count threaded sheets and big, fluffy pillows. Can you say j-e-a-l-o-u-s?
- No baby monitor.
- HE gets to lock the door and OWES IT TO NO ONE TO OPEN IT, except maybe to get the USAToday left on the other side of it.
- No leaking nipples (I still lactate, even though all of my 4 are totally done nursing).
- No arguing with kids about taking baths or showers (oh, he’s gonna say I don’t bathe them anyway… can’t wait for that comeback).
- No 22 month old screwing up your iPhone settings, or calling corporate clients unintentionally. No drool on your phone. No “Airheads” sludge on your phone screen… or your ear (consequently), or your hair (forgot you don’t have any), or your purse (which is why I have 92 of them… for events like this).
- No kids’/toddlers’ underwear with crap (literally) in it to gag at, and then attempt to scrub after it soaks in the sink. Ever try carrying that wet sludge all the way to the other side of the house to the laundry room with 4 kids hanging on your legs? Not a pretty clean up.
- No carpool.
- Oh, and my “Girls’ Weekends” (two are documented here, and here) are at least ON THE WEEKENDS when not much needs to happen. No firm schedule; maybe one of the kids has a sport one morning.
- When I’m away for a weekend, he gets to keep the kids in their pjs ALL all weekend while he submerges himself (and the kids) in a deep, dark hole, playing the Wii from dawn until dusk. His work trips only fall during the most hellish, scheduling nightmare’ish weekdays.
- No putting out fires between 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 year olds (we carpool with another family) ALL AT THE SAME TIME IN A CAR after the most frustrating work (and personal) day ever.
- No whining so piercing that your dangling earrings shatter.
- No reason to rip open a cold one at 4 pm because the other alternative is jumping off a ledge.
- He gets a break from trying to balance / accommodate / measure / manage / pacify the needs, wants, and gripes of a 1, 3, 5, and 7 year old.
Don’t get me wrong. his clients are tough… He has to take calls at 3 am, 4 am, and 5 am some days. The phone rings often in the evening when we’re FINALLY winding down at 10:30 pm and he has to take the call and whip out the laptop (last night’s saga). But:
a. Our kids (clients) are tougher (!).
b. He can’t be disappointed in his clients’ behavior AND feel like a complete failure — because at least he didn’t raise his clients. I get soo frustrated when the kids don’t act the way we taught them to — almost like I “own” our problems while he’s gone, whereas he has to “take care of others’ ” problems.
c. You know those cute little cherubs we goober and tear over when we see them angelically playing together on the bed together? Welp, they AREN’T always that loving toward each other. I love them to death. But they don’t always communicate their love toward each other as eloquently as I’d like.
d. In fact, they’re particularly ugly when hubby’s “out of town” (sigh)… staying in a posh hotel… able to expense any/all Starbucks, beers/cocktails, and fine dining experiences he wants to…
e. He can buy a People Magazine and actually finish the article without drool, snot, or dissection in the middle of the page…
f. On “business trips”, he can wake up to an alarm, not to the smell of PJ’s soaked in pee (and not my PJ’s, or my pee).
g. … Casually head to the shower on his own terms…
h. Poop without someone asking him “what’cha doin??”… Or, succumb to the begs to be held EVEN while I’m on the bowl (blog for another day)
i. Lay in the bed and watch trash television until HE CHOOSES when to turn it off
(I’m not even going to GO INTO the challenges of TRYING TO COERCE the kids to get ready, dressed, fed, and off to schools/prek… possibly throwing in a tidy before leaving… only to arrive at the destination completely late, and self-defeated).
Sounds like a freakin’ VACA to me, brothah. Nightmare clients, or no nightmare clients.
CLICK HERE for the GUYS’ VERSION OF “There’s No Place Like Home”