I’m not here.
The husband is in charge of my domain, for the weekend.
I’m not big on rules, schedules. I think I’m fairly easy going.
But if I’m easy going, Owen’s in a fucking coma.
In my head, this is how things are rolling around here:
8 am: Children awaken. Owen does not. He mumbles something about potato chips in the pantry, knock yourselves out.
9am: Daughter gets impatient, makes coffee herself.
9:07 am: Owen is awakened by the delightful aroma of fresh coffee, joins children downstairs.
9:30 am: The Nintendo is flipped on. Owen and the boy begin marathon session of Mario Kart. The daughter amuses herself with something quiet, and extremely messy. She goes undetected for several hours. Which is how she likes it.
1 pm: Lunch. No vegetables will be harmed. Or included.
2 pm: Neighbor kid and his dad knock on door, to see if our kids want to play. The neighbor dad tries not to recoil in horror at the site of our children, still in pajamas, the youngest with coffee on her breath.
2:15 pm: Owen settles into a delicious nap.
4 pm: Field trip to candy store.
5 pm: Grocery shopping at 7-11.
10 pm: One of the kids wonders aloud, why they’re not in bed. There are no easy answers.