He's Coming to Town

I'd better get ready! He's coming to town!

Nope... it's not Santa... it's my dear husband who has been gone since Tuesday morning. Yeah! He's on a flight now for CHICAGO! What a week!

It never seems like much to say, "My husband is out of town" but even my domestic goddess friend Ann (who has one in school and 2 twin boys aged 4) was going bonkers last week when her husband was MIA, er, out of town.

I have a lot of friends who have husbands who travel a bit. I can kid of tell when they're in their "single parent" mode of operation. They don't return calls as much, they don't blog as often and their emails are very brief. In short, they're in survival mode. They're never off duty from the beckons of little ones.

Today my daughter did her normal morning routine, but something snapped in me that caused me to either 1. Scream like mad or 2. Count slowly to ten to avoid screaming like mad. It went like this:

"Mom, I don't want to eat my cereal in this chair. I want that chair.
And I don't want to eat at the kitchen table, I want to eat on THAT table. (Living room folding table was set up.)
I can't drink my medicine because it won't stir. Can you stir it?
I need a straw.
Now I need a napkin.
Can I have some more cereal? I want to eat with THIS spoon.
I want to go upstairs and get dressed. I want to choose my clothes.
Let me win, Mom. Let me win. (Let me be first in line.)
Now you stand over there by that sink while I stand here."

I know the above dialogue doesn't sound like much, but multiply it by 3 nonstop days of "do this my way" and you'll get my drift.

Now I'm going to take her to preschool. It's for her own safety. I'm tapped out.