Glad As I Can Be!

Nate has been gone for 17 days. Except for his 20 hour visit last weekend. So I'm practicing a song for him when he walks through the door in two hours. In my best Marilyn Monroe "Happy Birthday Mr. President" voice, I'll be singing:

I'm so glad when Daddy comes home
Glad as I can be,
Clap my hands and shout for joy
And climb up on his knee
Put my arms around his neck
Hug him tight like this
Pat his cheeks and give him what?
A GREAT BIG KISS!!!

I must admit, at first I mostly missed his help, because when he is actually home (which isn't all that often between working full time, MBA school part time, his church calling and an ENDLESS list of extra-curricular activities) and awake (his busy life wears him out and he loves sleep almost as much as I love food) he is the most helpful husband I've ever heard of. He really is.

But then after a while I really started to miss HIM. I forget how much the adult interaction, daily hugs and kisses, warm body to share the bed with, person to watch TV with, person to get fashion advice from (mostly "does this make me look fat?" kind of stuff, because he's honest, which I appreciate), and lots of other little things really make a difference.
Until they're gone for 16.2 days. And then, believe me, I remember.

I've been feelin' it since 1996: I love Nathan Watabe!

Bellyachin'

Today was supposed to be Harrison's last day of school, which I was quite sad about for several reasons. He loves it. I love it. He's growing up. I'm going to have to grow up and entertain him myself every afternoon, all summer. But then he started crying that his stomach hurt at 9 AM and didn't stop crying about it until noon. Now that's what I call bellyachin'. This is the third time we've dealt with this problem in the last couple of months. The first two times I took him to the Dr., because it's quite alarming to see your child in so much pain. But let me tell you what I learned from those two experiences -- if you want your child to have a miraculous recovery, just schedule a Dr's appointment for him. So this time, I just waited for it to pass, and hoped it would be before school started, because I knew once it passed, he'd be fine, and I wanted him to go and enjoy his last day. We can all remember what a magical day the last day of school is right?

Well, he told me he didn't think it would be a good idea to go to school because he didn't want to get his friends sick (even though I'm pretty sure constipation isn't contagious, and I'm pretty sure it's constipation, although he never did unconstipate himself , and he seemed to make a full recovery). Every time I questioned him on whether or not he really wanted to miss his last day of school he said, "Don't worry mom, I'll get to see all my friends at the picnic on Monday." It's sad when you're 4 year old is more rational about these things than you are.

All that bellyachin' kind of set the tone for the rest of the day and it went a little something like this.

Children watched Toy Story 2. Twice.

Children took baths mostly for entertainment value, which lasted over an hour each (Elizabeth took two of these, actually), so Mother could finish the best book she's read in over a year, The Thirteenth Tale.

Children and Mother ate a delicious and nutritious "Kraft Dinner."

Mother got "dressed" (changed out of lounge pants into jeans, and put on hat to cover dirty hair) at 7:15 PM to go to the grocery store. Also for entertainment value. Kids got to ride in car cart, eat free cookies and ride penny horse. Mother got to replenish chocolate supply that has seriously diminished since singleparenthood began a week ago. (Is he away on business or pleasure you ask? Well he's in Cali where we used to live, spending every spare moment he's not working with his old buddies, so the jury's still out on that one.). Anyway, we don't even have chocolate chips and I swear I only opened that Costco-sized bag a month ago. The good ice cream was on sale for $2.69. Rocky Road or Mint Chip? Let's just get both. Grabbed a bunch of bananas and two mangoes to make myself feel better.

Someone better hurry home, or there's going to be a whole lot more bellyachin' around here!

(I just proofread this post and realized the last line could be interpreted to mean that my stomach will hurt if I don't stop eating macaroni and cheese for dinner and two kinds of ice cream for dessert. Which would be an understandable misunderstanding. I meant the kind of bellyachin' my mom used to tell me to stop doing.)