What's strange about this is that last week I was playing the role of single mom while my husband was away on a rare business trip and I still managed to hack out three posts before the week was through. But then again, it seems like everything in my life is like that.
When my husband is gone, I rise to the occasion. I do dishes. I make meals. I do pick-up and drop-off at daycare and still get to work on time. I get more loads of laundry done than our washer has seen in a year. I catch up on my correspondence. Like with stamps and pens and everything. I single-handedly wrangle a 7-month old who has learned to army crawl across the room, but has not learned how to get uncaught from between the entertainment center and his toy box (or how to avoid crawling into small spaces in general.) And on top of it all, I write three
But now, he's home. And there are four hands to do all of the things above. So while that equation would lead you to believe I'm getting even more done, you would be wrong. Now, basically, I check Facebook, I play Cooking Dash on my phone, I attempt to make some more homemade baby food and burn pears (ruining a very expensive Calphalon pot in the process). I order pizza for dinner. We learn that two college degrees and general common sense still will not afford you the ability to install new car seats. Thank God my husband is kind of a neat freak (read: loads the dishwasher), or else we probably would have eaten dinner on a couple of paper towels last night.
I often find myself wondering what causes this phenomenon. Why am I rendered completely helpless and awestruck by reruns of Real Housewives of Orange County when my husband is home? Because when he isn't in town, I hardly even turn on the television. And situations like what happened with me and the Bastard Jeep Compass definitely wouldn't happen - but only because instead of me carrying the diaper bag, my purse, my pump bag, and the carseat (with baby) in the house, I honk the horn for him to come out to the garage and carry most of it while I carry a travel coffee mug.
On the weeks that he's gone, you know, when I'm all, "CARPE DIEM, BIOTCH! LET'S DO THIS," I start to kind of understand how a single mom might make it on her own. When you don't have the choice, but to do it by yourself, you just do it. But, the minute it returns, it's back to business as usual. I lay on the floor and play with the baby instead of running the vacuum. I refresh my Twitter feed instead of doing important things...like, showering. All while my husband follows behind me picking up the trail of stuff I shed behind me. Even though a week ago, I was able to do all of this and more and entertain you all with my cute little quips.
Is it because my husband enables me a little? Probably.
But, it's mostly because he's awesome. And because we long ago decided that our whole is greater than the sum of its parts. We're a team. (He's usually the captain and I'm usually the eighth-string benchwarmer, but whatever.)
So, even though the house smells like burned fruit and the laundry is piling up. Even though we can't leave the house with the baby because we have no working carseats. And even though I neglected my blogging duties for the week. When it comes down to it, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing (or not doing as the case may be.)
There's no other team I'd rather be on.