I left the house late Saturday afternoon around 3:30pm. I was gone for approximately three hours. THREE HOURS. That is an important number, so remember it. I knew that I would be gone during dinner so I had planned ahead, discussing with my sweet husband his meal options of either leftover lasagna or frozen pizza. The living room was mostly clean, with only a few toys scattered about. The kitchen floor was clean. The lunch dishes were still on the table, but I assumed my sweet husband would, at the very least, put them in the sink when it was time to sit down for dinner.
About 30 minutes before I get home I receive this text from my sweet husband: "Charlie has a broken neck!"
After a few minutes trying to figure out who the heck Charlie was I finally remembered that we had named our concrete goose the day we brought him home. He has sat on our porch for nearly eight years and now, apparently, his neck was broken.
A few moments later another text came through: We lost Alex for about 20 seconds!"
Uh, maybe you should have led with that? And, oh, by the way, DID YOU FIND HIM?
Bedtime for the tiny toddler is 7:30pm. When I got home at 6:50pm I was greeted by two bouncing little boys at the front door, one not wearing pants. I did that thing every mom does upon returning home to her children - I swept the rooms with my eyes taking it all in, making sure everything was OK. Everything was not OK.
Cupboard doors were open in the kitchen. The kitchen floor was covered in refrigerator magnets, toys, and those little post cards that fall out of magazines. (I really hate those things.) Toys littered the living room floor. And the lunch dishes were still on the table.
It took only a moment to figure out the boys hadn't eaten dinner. I could feel the annoyance just simmering down inside of me. I took charge. Every boy in my life, all three of them, quietly picked up the toys and cleaned off the table. The argument that the boys "weren't hungry" didn't fly, seeing as they devoured the peanut butter sandwiches I made for them. During dinner I learned that the goose had broken when one of the boys, not clear which one, ran into it, because they may have been riding their bikes/riding toys on the front porch. The front porch that doesn't have any railings but does have a huge drop off on one end.
So to recap: messy house, broken goose, riding bikes on porch, lost toddler, no dinner.
I think I was so upset because I really enjoy my time away from home. I love every minute (mostly) of my time with all of my boys, but I also really like my time away. I find it relaxing and recharging and when I come home I don't like to have to jump right back into the chaos. When I have to clean up, make dinner.... it unravels the recharging, so to speak.
But then my husband helped me to remember that the boys had a fun afternoon. They were unharmed and no one was still missing. I still wish I could come home to a house that at least looks as good as when I left, and that things like meal and nap schedules are at least somewhat adhered to, but in the big scheme of things, my boys got to spend quality time with their dad. Which is always the most important thing.