What? Who? When?

Y'all, I am tired. I mean t-i-r-e-d.

Yancey was out of town for 3 nights (Thurs-Sun.....so that means 2 full weekend days by myself which is exponentially harder than weekdays when the boys might be in school for a few hours) and the boys traded off on me with who had The Cold. You know The Cold, the one your kids give each other (and you) from September through God knows when. Foster decided to include a fever with his this go round, and while he was all sick-cuddly-cute, Yancey 4 took that opportunity to become needy and Mommymommymommymommy. Oh, how the healthy can manipulate. By the way, the sick-cuddly-cute conveniently stopped at 9:30PM when Foster woke up screaming because he couldn't breathe. Sick, yes. Cuddly-cute, hell to the no.

Dorothy (Yancey's mom) was here 2 nights to help with dinner/bath/bedtime (God bless her), and then when Yancey 3 got home his sister, Susan, came by to visit and help with the boys' dinner. I think I was coherent for about 45 minutes during all that time, and I feel certain that my in-laws think I am a lunatic. I found myself wheeling around, calling both boys by the wrong name (sometimes calling them Annie) and telling them that I was going to sell them to the gypsies if they didn't straighten up (yeah, Time Out doesn't work so well around here).

We spent our days going to the park (with about 3000 Kleenex on hand), to the bookstore (leaving germs for everyone else to enjoy) and to the zoo with Katie and Hunter. My motto: If you are well enough to be a pain in my butt, you are well enough to get in the car and go somewhere. Look no further to wonder why I am tired. Two heathen children running around the zoo screaming, "EH phant EH phant, RAFF, RAFF (giraffe)" then fighting over who sat where on the train and carousel, then one deciding that the carousel jaguar going up and down was just too much and he wantedoffrightnow then wondering how in the hell to find the exit when both boys are taking off their shoes and socks and throwing them at the animals as we pass. Jesus. Meanwhile, Hunter (who is 2) was the picture of perfection - I think he even said the Latin name for gorilla while sketching in a moleskin journal. And, he ate oranges without complaint. I put the boys in bed each night with a gigantic sigh of relief. Then I cleaned up the upstairs landing, the kitchen and the sunroom. Then at about 10, I had a glass of wine, read 3 pages of my book, found some eggs on Facebook (whassup Hatchlings?!) and stumbled to bed.

OK, so what is my problem? There are women (many family members included) who do this every single day. Their husbands travel for work, or they are divorced, or they simply do it because they love it (or believe - tired or not - that it is the best way to raise their kids). I don't do this every day. I jobshare, so I work either 2 or 3 days a week, and I have help 4 days a week (Jasmine - the angel from heaven that has been with us for a year an half). No shame in my game - I like the help. But, DAMN......there are people who do this without losing their temper or patience (much) and can juggle shoes, socks, lunch, snot and fevers without batting an eye. Not to mention actually *cooking* for their husbands and kids.

I have always found it slightly patronizing to hear people say, "Wow, I could never stay at home full time with the kids - it's just too much." Although, ummm, yeah, I've said it. But, I have *totally* not been patronizing my friends! When I say it, I mean that I would be calling 911 to find out what to do when I have "accidentally" locked both kids in the closet. When other people say it though, somehow I hear, "I could never go that long without adult interaction. I am just too sophisticated." But that's not what I mean at ALL! I just mean that I am too weak, impatient and easily angered. So, I am trying to find a way to impart my own truth to y'all and to myself - that I 100% believe that parents (women or men) that stay at home with their kids are full-on, no holds barred, absolutely and totally my heroes. They probably never find themselves wheeling around in their sunroom calling their kids the wrong names and saying, "What? Who? When?" when their sister-in-law asks how their day went. I applaud every single one of you.

PS - Yancey told me that I can't post anymore about my car because if I tell you any more about what I did, no one will ever buy it.

PPS - Yancey would also like for me to clarify the statment, "I have help 4 days a week." He would like the record to show that I have HELP 7 days a week, in the form of a husband. Duly noted. (Author's Note: Except when he's on a golf weekend.)