Vince: “My hotel room has heated bathroom floors!”
I had no words.
You see, just at that heated floors moment, in my reality, the children were running around, in their Moses costumes from the Old Testament Costume night at their church program, hitting each other with the walking sticks that were part of said costumes, and were yelling out, in between shrieks of laughter, that they were hungry; all this while I was attempting to clear the pile of dishes off the kitchen counter.
Some friends have commented that I’m lucky that my husband travels for work on occasion.
They couldn’t be more wrong.
It’s not lucky, it’s not fun, it’s not awesome.
I can’t think of a better way to put it.
And before anyone says it, I know that we are very, very fortunate that he has a job, and a good one at that.
I’m not complaining about his job; I’m simply stating a fact.
Solo parenting is not for the faint of heart.
It’s tough, it’s grueling, it’s lonely.
And yes, parenting in any capacity, in general can be all those things.
But for me, and I can only speak for me, it’s tougher when I’m on my own.
And yet, as I lay in bed, with both boys laying sideways beside me, leaving me less than adequate room, and as they grind their teeth making the world’s worst sound, not to mention that they have wrapped themselves in all the available linens, leaving me to freeze – I can’t help but agree with Vince that he is the one missing out.
Don’t get me wrong though, it’s tough to feel sorry or badly for him when he calls and announces such luxuries.
Although, I’m not gonna lie, heated bathroom floors would be really awesome.