Last week, the kids were off school for a combination government holiday/teacher conference thing. Heather and Kristina are pretty good at entertaining themselves, although it does get a little expensive. PATRICK, on the other hand. I tried, like a good mother, to limit the amount of TV that he watched. We played games, read stories, and I did make him clean up his room. That took care of Friday, and left us with 9 more days. By Saturday morning, Oliver was checking the classifieds to see if he could afford to move out. Patrick had wrestled him, pulled his ears, poked, prodded and just generally aggravated the living daylights out of him. Oliver is a rather sedentary dog, and all of this activity was about to push him over the edge. Since Dan was out of town, I was responsible for entertaining Patrick, and presumably I wasn’t allowed to put him on eBay. (Believe me, next time Dan goes out of town, I will clarify this.) I heard the word “Mom” approximately 9,567 times. In one day. Followed closely by “why”? And when he got bored, he tattled. On his sisters. TO his sisters. On the dogs. TO the dogs. By Wednesday I was hiding in the laundry room talking to the birds on the wall calendar. We don’t have a yard to play in, and even if we did, it’s been raining pretty much non-stop since Christmas, so sending him outside wasn’t an option, and all three dogs had to come inside, since Charlie is a mud magnet and Chloe is a princesa, and neither of them could be outside in the rain. Oliver is always inside anyway because he’s so neurotic.
I tried to be a good mom. I tried not to allow the electronic babysitter to take over. I lost. Patrick watched pretty much every Disney movie we own. He watched three of the Star Wars movies. And he’s developed a fondness for “I Carly” and “Hannah Montana” that would be alarming…if I were a better mother. Add to this the fact that I didn’t cook…ONCE…the whole time Dan was gone. Yup. Patrick got McDonalds twice, the Chinese place twice, and a lot of cereal. My mother-of-the-year award is in the mail. I’m sure of it.
This morning, I had him out of bed 15 minutes early. Back to school. And I need to remember to buy his teacher flowers. She’s a saint.