Changes

The Man started a new job this week.
That new job has him home nights, but every other weekend I'm a single parent.
So we're adjusting.
Sort of.
Okay, badly.
Don't get me wrong. I can handle my kids. But since I'm not the fun parent--and my boys will tell you that in a minute--we're all having to adjust to a new way of life.
My children love to be outside. I hate it. Between the sunburn and the dust allergy, I'm miserable.
But I did it yesterday. Until I broke The Man's tractor and decided I was done with Green Acres.
I love quiet afternoons that include naps or at least curling up with a book.
None of that happening here.
I like Wii work outs in solitude.
My audience just wouldn't leave, but they were great cheerleaders.
I love kid kisses, but not the fights and "he's touching me" or "he looked at my apple" that I've been dealing with. (Punk threw an apple at Bug's head for daring just such an offense. Girl has an arm on her!)
I like freshly folded laundry and toys in their bins and chaos at a minimum.
I very rarely get what I like.
And, yes, it is all about me in this house. I like it that way.
So I made a deal. You want something, you're gonna do what I want, with a good attitude.
And it seems to be working.
Okay, it's akin to bribery, but I'm a desperate woman hovering over a fresh made batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and I'm about to jump, damn it.
There are times when its all about survival, baby.
While I am most definitely not a shy, retiring wall flower, I talk to people all day, every day. Most not by choice.
Don't get me wrong. I adore my friends and family and I love a good chat, but on weekends, I could care less if I say two words to anyone.
Weekends are my time to stoop an decompress and regroup before I climb on a building and start shooting people.
Really. If you know me at all, you know how easily that could happen.
But every other weekend I have to step up, parent solo, and pray to the gods that The Man's day ends quickly.
My heathens and I all have our faces pressed to the glass waiting on him.
Because, while my idea of fun is not running outside barefoot, it is the quiet that comes when he takes the heathens outside to run amok and I can close the door and finally breathe.
Sometimes, I even unlock the door and let them come back in.
Sometimes.