The Return of the SAHM

So for a while there I was seriously considering an ad put out by the newspaper I write my column for. They're hiring a reporter, and I could do it. Like, I really think I'd be good at it. And there were a ton of reasons I could say this would be good for our family. George even used the words "this could be just the thing we're looking for." I ultimately decided it would have been my rebound boyfriend. I just quit a relationship I thought was "the one," and I feel like I'm scrambling, so I need something else fast...you know? So I saw this ad, and now THIS is the one. Right?

And it turns out I would have had to quit that job for the same reasons I quit school. We're a special needs family and I need to focus on that right now and keep things as under control, managed, and calm as possible, because its tendency is to be out of control anyway. What can I say? I'm drawn to the wrong kind of "man."

So, I made my decision and got to work.

There were dry chickpeas to cook in the crock pot and then roast to a salty crisp in the oven. There was a roaster chicken to put in when the chickpeas came out, and chicken broth to make after that. Green beans to cook, potatoes to go in the oven. Dishes needed done, suitcases from last weekend still needed emptied and put away, lunches to pack for tomorrow, and I thought it would be a nice gesture to take the trash out for my sweet husband so he doesn't have to do it in the morning. So I got to work at 8:00 pm. It took until approximately midnight, which would give me roughly six hours of sleep. Whatever. I'm used to it, and this gets me ahead for the week. I can catch up on sleep tomorrow. The rest of the night went like this.

Midnight: Lay down in bed on stomach and think to self, this is not comfortable. No matter. I cannot possibly move.

2 am: William's awake. George gets up, that saint of a man.

2:30 am: George is still trying to get William to pee. This is what he does. He wakes up because he has to pee, George sits with him trying to coax him to use the potty, and he won't until I walk in the door. This is what I do at 2:30 and he pees instantly. I take him back to bed and rock him for a bit, at which point I'm finally coherent enough to realize that the reason I'm still having such a hard time opening my eyes is the fact that I have a face-splitting headache.

2:40 am: Now I have to pee.

2:42 am: I go back to bed, where I hear from my husband that William is still awake. Monkey. George gets up, gets me some ibuprofen, and sets off to take care of William. Not sure when he returns.

3:30 am: CRASH! Both of us sit up in bed, sure that William has taken a dive out of his bed and, maybe lightning struck at the same time. A second crash brings us to the window. An impressive crash has occurred next door, into the lamp post that's practically in our yard.

3:32 am: Man stumbles out of truck as me and George look on, slack-jawed. George is like, man, he's drunk. I contend that he's hit his head and is hurt. Really hurt. Until he gets back in and throws the truck in reverse, but seems incapable of finding the gas pedal. George says, Maura, seriously. The guy was trying to turn the wrong way down a one-way street and missed. Okay, fine, he's drunk. I'm like, honey, quick, call the police before he drives away! He was pretty sure this dude was too drunk to locate his steering wheel.

3:37 am: Police arrive on the scene and we watch, amused (yeah, we're bad people), as they pull him out of the truck and cuff him. One of the officers approaches the vehicle that had been maintaining a safe distance behind this guy, and who evidently alerted them, when George says, man. I hope they don't knock on our door.

3:40 am: Police officer shines a light directly at our window as we dive back into bed like a couple of nine-year-olds about to be busted for being on the computer after bedtime. I say maybe I should put on pants. George says he'll answer the door. I tell him maybe he should put on pants, then. He says he's wearing pants, and tells me to stop talking and go to sleep.

4:00 am: William is still awake. George takes him downstairs.

6:00 am: Alarm.

7:00 am: I actually wake up and throw myself, half-awake, into the shower.

7:10 am: George opens the bathroom door to alert me that Nora has thrown up in her bed.

Sigh. All right. We'll stay home today.

Welcome back to stay-at-home motherhood!