Flying Solo: Week One
We've survived week one of Rob's trip. Everybody is getting where they need to be, they're eating and sleeping and have even been bathed. But 'round about Sunday, the kids all racheted down a notch -- they're tired of Papa being gone and they've all let me know. This one here has been acting like he's strung out on antibiotics: he's squirting water out of the fridge dispenser onto the floor, he's bitten me, hit me, thrown things at my head and generally had about twice as many smackdown tantrums as usual. The other day as I was trying to dress him and he was wriggling away, I said "Now are you going to be nice to me today?" He put his head on my shoulder and said "luvoo Mama" (which doesn't preclude any of the hitting, biting or water damage, but still felt nice). Then Monday after a particularly trying round of violin practice, I was serenading Will and Joss by belting out "Love at Home" in my mock-opera voice. I