March 28, 2005

I’m baaaack!

Did you miss me?

I’ve been in Albuquerque, for the men’s NCAA basketball regional finals–ALL BY MYSELF. How was it? you ask. It was AWESOME. It was also the first real vacation I’ve had in three and a half years. By ‘real vacation’ I mean a trip ENTIRELY WITHOUT my children. I took ONE small carry-on bag, a teeny tiny purse, and shoes that I couldn’t wear to the park. I drank wine in the afternoon. I swore out loud. I read the ENTIRE New York Times. I watched whole basketball games without having to fill sippy cups or change poopy diapers. And then I talked about the same games with people who know and love basketball as much as I do. It was wonderful.

People here were a little thrown by the whole idea of me going to the basketball tournament and Wade staying home with the boys. They either couldn’t believe that I really like basketball enough to actually go to the tournament (oh I do) or that Wade really likes our kids enough to actually enjoy spending four days alone with them (oh he does). In the end, the verdict seems to be that I’m an oddball and that Wade is paying for it (which probably isn’t far from the truth, actually). Tonight one of his friends called to ask if I had gotten the basketball thing out of my system. No, I said, on the contrary–I am still fuming that, with Michigan State up by three and 12 seconds left in regulation, my kids went berserk and had to be shuffled into baths and bed, causing me to miss BOTH overtimes. Ah, the friend said.

I like to leave them really baffled.

The downside of my otherwise wonderful weekend was that the re-entry was hell. It was surprising even to me how quickly I forgot how utterly chaotic my house can be, especially at bedtime. I spent the weekend, between games, musing about all the Things I Could Be Doing With My Life–writing more, painting the guest room, reading smart books. Then I got home and spent the entire evening saying, no no no! Charlie, no! Henry, I said NO! It was exhausting.

And, of course, Wade and I managed to get into a fight, about the kids jumping off the furniture at his parents’ house. This isn’t a new discussion, and it always follows the same pattern. We eat dinner, then we all move to the garden room to visit. The boys, egged on by Wade and his dad, jump on the sofa, on the ottoman, on the chairs; they spin in the chairs, crashing into tables and people; they make tunnels out of the sofa cushions and jump on those. Last night, as a new trick, Henry was doing summersaults across the floor. Eventually, it is time to put on shoes and leave, and EVERYONE (including me) cries and yells. Then we stuff them in the car and take them home, where they continue to run and jump and yell until we strap them in their beds and shout ‘For the love of god, go to sleep!’ At some point during the jumping, I say to Wade, ‘You know, this is a terrible idea,’ and he says, ‘No, it’s fine.’ And, usually, I just fume to myself.

Last night I was so annoyed by the Return to Chaos that I let him have it. And, oddly, unlike all the other times I have brought this up, when I tried to be calm and constructive and say, You know, honey, maybe it’s not a good idea to let the boys run roughshod over your parents’ house, this time, when I said, What in the hell are you thinking? You let them act like that and it’s just ONE MORE THING that they think they can get away with when you’re not around! Are you TRYING to make my life harder?–this time, he listened. And he agreed.

So, in the larger scheme, it’s a win for me–no more jumping on the furniture at Mimi and Bob’s. But I hate that my perfect peaceful weekend ended with yelling.

And not at basketball.

Tomorrow: Judith Warner makes me cry. In public. Twice.

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