For the last 6 years (roughly), I’ve had a weekly date night with my bestie, Alli. What started out as a night designated to watching our favorite TV series together gradually became an excuse to hang out, drink coffee, and eat stuff we wouldn’t have to share with our little people, all while speaking in complete sentences and using adult words.
With her being a single mom and without a ready sitter at all times, I usually happily head to her house for our get togethers, and my hunny has always supported this. Many times he’s even all but PUSHED me out of the house, claiming I’m nicer when I’ve had my girl time. I do NOT disagree. As a mama, I’m more relaxed when I’ve had time away- even when its just a couple of hours a week.
My hunny is a terrific dad, so I’ve never questioned what happens while I’m away…
until last night.
All I can figure is that our children multiplied like gremlins after I left and terrorized dear hubs into submission. Toys had been strewn about the room, crammed into every corner, and paper planes littered my once-clean table, counters, and kitchen floor. Goldfish crackers had been smooshed into the sofa and carpet, and a bottle of milk was on its side, slowing dripping its contents onto the floor. But if that wasn’t enough evidence that a 3:1 ratio is bad in this house, sweet hubs elaborated:
“You know how, when you left, Cameron was holding Nicholas?”
“Well, as you were driving away, Cameron looked at me and said that Nicholas had peed and he could feel it through his shirt.”
“Yeah, he thought so, too, when I pointed out that it wasn’t pee.”
After I finished gagging/laughing, he went on:
“Oh, and Jacob tried to jump the baby gate after his bath, but it ended up falling over- on Nicholas.”
“So, what you’re saying is, our youngest almost died from massive internal trauma?”
And, if I thought I could escape by curling up in my bed, I was wrong. The Mini Master left me a snack on my side of the bed. Always the little sharer, he must’ve realized he was almost finished with his cracker and he hadn’t left me any, so he spit some of it out for me.
Now, I’m really wondering if this was a fluke or if last night was a regular occurrence and I just happened to come home before Haz Mat showed up. In any case, one thing is for certain: while the mama’s away, the mice don’t just “play”- they throw a rave on steroids.