My goal this weekend was just to relax. Not do a stitch of anything that could be considered work (for my paying job, that is). I had a mental list of things I’d like to get done. And if they didn’t? Not a big deal. Really. (My philosophy has always been that there is more to life than whatever’s on the to-do list, anyway.)

It’s now early Monday morning and I haven’t left the house since I pulled in on Friday night. I haven’t gone to Starbucks. I haven’t gone to Sonic. I haven’t gone anywhere. And you know what? That rocks. I haven’t spent a dime, either, which is always fantabulous (and even more fantabulous considering my childcare bill just went up).

Saturday I did whatever I wanted to do, which did include some laundry and cleaning. Sunday was more of the same. Cleaning, laundry, doing as little actual work for my day job as possible (though I did have to check the website regularly, but that’s no biggie).

The kids’ room? Still not finished.

Really, I could tear my hair out over that – and nearly did. Here I thought it’d be easy, but ha ha. Silly me. In theory, my creative little plan would have worked at any time other than this battle of epic proportions we have going on. I’m PMSing and they are being stubborn, destructive little brats. And Jenna’s been whiny on top of all of it. So really? Um, all four of us making it to Monday deserves some sort of award.

Every time I would check in on them, the room would be more disastrous than it was. Once I went in and Jaiden’s mattress was off of her bed (AGAIN!), sheets were torn off and thrown around the room, her pillows were everywhere, her blankets were everywhere. The day before they’d had the bright idea to hang off of the two closet poles – one is metal, one is wooden. The wooden one broke (“I did it so you could have something to spank us with,” says Jaiden, but for the record I don’t spank them with objects, just my hand) and the metal one is pretty much shaped like a V. So now hangers are ALL over the floor, even though I have had them pick all of them up numerous times. What else? Another time I went in and they have thrown all of Jenna’s old clothes EVERYWHERE. They have completely trashed their room, which I would not have thought would be any more possible. But here again, they surprise me. Those kids of mine, always keeping me on my toes …

And here is where I whine. And I cried a little. Because you know what? I am getting jipped out of these child-free weekends that most broken families call ‘Daddy’s weekends’. Where the heck are those? I could really, really use some time to myself right about now. My parents are due to go to Hawaii in a week and a half and I am thinking about duct-taping my dad to his chair, grabbing his ticket, and RUNNING. (Yeah, like that’ll happen! Have you ever seen my dad? lol.) I am totally missing out here. He gets to have all of the fun – and all of the money, too, since I don’t get child support.

I know I have openly said I am working on forgiving him, but yesterday I resented him so much. I really hated him. I never get a break, I just go from one stressful situation to the next. And really, I don’t know why I am wasting my time and energy on it because I’m sure these visitations will probably never happen the way they are meant to. If they did, though, I’d be mad because I’d have to do damage control once they got back.

If I was anyone else I would sit here and whine about not having a life outside of kids and work, and while that is true, I’m woman enough to know our relationships with people is what life is all about. Really, he is the one missing out. I know that – and every single mother knows that – but in our fits of rage we don’t want you to point that out to us. We just want someone to listen to us and make us feel like we are validated in thinking that way, even if it’s not the truth.

As much as I want to be able to pick up and go whenever I want to without making sure they are being cared for, as much as I would love not paying almost $1200/mo. in childcare fees, as much as I would love to be sitting around other adults drinking Cranberry & Vodka instead of sitting around yelling at my kids to clean their room on a Saturday night, as much as my life would be so much easier without them, life is much better with them in it. And that’s the mistake that many absent parents make.

While many of you woke up hungover and were still pulling yourselves out of bed on Saturday morning, I was sitting with a sleeping baby on my lap. It wasn’t naptime or any other sleepytime, she just wanted her mommy, shoved her thumb in her mouth, cuddled up with me and ended up falling asleep. It’s the most precious thing, I swear. And she has started giving hugs, lately; she will randomly walk up to one of us and throw her short, chubby little arms around our necks, then “pat” us in the face (it’s more like a smack in the face, but she’s 16 months and finds it funny, like we do). She now says “Mommy!” all the time and “hot” and a few other things. I think she is slow in speaking, and I’m worried about it, but maybe it’s just typical third child stuff.

And while you are cussing because you were caught by a train when you were already late – which, yes, I do too – I am sitting in the car with a three-year-old fascinated with trains who is asking me a bunch of questions and a five-year-old who is telling me the guards that come down (the red/white striped bars) are there so that the trains don’t fall off of the tracks. (Hello – laugh at that! How funny! She drew that conclusion all on her own!)

Saturday afternoon while you and your replacement spouse were probably still in bed, I was listening to the older two sing a new song they learned about Jesus, the devil and the Bible. And then my oldest threw in “Daddy” for good measure. Not “Mommy” and everyone else this time, this certain time that I was recording it to the computer, but “Daddy”. My son sang it as well and did a fantastic job. He’s not such a shy little boy anymore.

And Sunday morning, when I’m sure you were in bed, I was being begged to go to Sunday School by a couple of curious little ones who are eager to learn about God. Later that morning I caught Jaylen reading The Very Hungry Catepillar; it was his own memorized version of it, and it wasn’t word-for-word real reading by any means, but it was still precious. He read to the three most important chicks in his life – his sisters and his mom – individually. He was so proud – and so was I.

So you miss a dance recital or the first day of school. A lot of parents have to. It’s the everyday moments that mean the most.

I know I may be disgruntled – that happens quite a bit, actually. I know I may scream and yell and exhibit Texas Mother Syndrome&tm; sometimes. I know I say I want breaks (and really, I do!). I know I complain a lot. But I kind of think I’ve earned it. I’m doing the job of two parents all by myself. Is it a little too much to ask to let me have my moment? (As soon as I do, I’m fine. Usually.)

(I always feel kind of guilty for mentioning the situation with Bryan. Like I am betraying him in some way by saying he’s not contributing and is not involved. I try to tell myself that hey, this is MY life, it’s MY kids’ lives, and he can shove it. If he doesn’t like it, he can man up and do what he’s supposed to and maybe I will have more nice things to say. I’m not as bitter as I am letting on right now – not usually – but yesterday I was not a happy camper.)

I know that the things I’m missing out on are the superficial things and that it’s all worth it in the end, but I would just like some off-duty time once in awhile. (And only two and a half months until Virginia! I’m so excited!)

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