Where Have the Brownies Gone?

It seems the weekend went by before I realized what was happening.  James and Jacob left yesterday to take Jacob to his first week of big boy school.  I spent Saturday  making sure he had the clothes he would need to be gone for a week.  I kept saying things like, “Did you pack enough underwear?” and, “Do you have something to do in the car?”  He would politely smile and say, “Yes ma’am,” with no eye rolling whatsoever.

 

My job is done.  He can take stupid mom questions with maturity, he can handle whatever those law school professors throw at him.

 

Once they were gone I had to choose between spending the rest of the day in my recliner with an “I Love Lucy” marathon or doing work in the sewing room.  I started off sewing, but it slowly morphed into my being too sad that my guys were gone and I fell into a Lucy and Ricky stupor.

 

I hate it when James isn’t here with me when the boys decide to see what will happen if they put a light bulb between their headboard and the wall and push the bed against it.  Glass everywhere, frustrated mom.  Or when I ask someone for the 17th time to feed the cats, or when no one knows where the scissors went, or when I realize someone ate the last brownie…..things like that.  I need him here.  I need a comrade in battle.

 

Isn’t that the purpose of marriage?  To have someone to look across the room at when the kids do something so foolish that you think you will lose your mind for the 40th time that day?  Our eyes meet with the knowing look that says, “I’m sorry.  I know this is hard.  I’ll help you clean it up then we can talk about them behind their backs.”

 

But there’s an upside to James being gone…..I can get the hallway painted.  James hates the smell of paint so I try to do small painting projects whenever he goes out of town.  Our hallway is desperate to be cleaned up, so I’ll be hiring a couple of the kids.  This may not seem like the best idea, letting teenagers loose with a gallon of paint and some brushes.  But my shoulder is still hurting (although it is MUCH better) so I won’t be able to do it myself.  Am I just asking for trouble?  Probably.

 

My expectations are low.  I really just want them to get less paint on the floor than the walls.  And not ruin anything.  And not try to see what will happen if they put a paint roller between their headboard and the wall.

 

Oh dear, I will definitely need more brownies to get me through the week.