On many an occasion, Jason has suggested that I go out for a little while to get some time to myself. Recently however, he was forced to take matters into his own hands and essentially kick me out of the house for a Saturday. His reasons for doing so are as follows:
- He came upon me putting the following phrases into Google "boarding", "preschool" and "Switzerland."
- While I was on the phone, he overheard me gleefully refer to bathing the children as "Mommy water-boarding."
- Coming into the house after work and being greeted by his wife holding a Disney Princess sippy cup in one hand and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the other. Oh, relax, it was for me. I was too tired to empty the dishwasher and the kid's cups were the only ones that were clean.
There were many, many, many, many, many other manifestations indicating that Mommy needed a time out. And to be honest, I was giddy. In the days leading up to my "day off" I was daydreaming about not being directly responsible for my children's survival for a couple of hours.
The glorious day finally arrived. I hurried through breakfast, kissed the kids and then literally pitched them to their father as I raced out to the car. Honestly, the tires squealed in the driveway as I threw the car into reverse and them slammed it into drive.
Now, I love my husband. Jason is the moon, the stars, the sun and everything else in the world beneath them to me. He's an excellent father. Often, he's a much better parent than I can ever hope to be. That being said, I had no problems sacrificing him to our children for the sake of my sanity and hoped that our homeowner's insurance would cover whatever destruction they had wrought while I was wandering around Borders. I figured Jason would play it safe, put in the "Bee Movie" (Nick's latest theatrical obsession) and change a couple of diapers. My theory was that the kids would be bored out of their minds and be so thankful that Mommy had returned that they'd be perfect angels for a few days, so happy to have me back.
Oh no, not my Jason. No copping out with the TV for his little babies.
My darling little cherubs now get all the way to about 11:30am before they start demanding to know when "Daddy is coming home so we can have fun."
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