When momma's away...the world falls apart apparently.

Good morning!

So I spent the weekend doing writerly things.  Mostly, I was out of town at a friend's house.  When I returned I remember why it is I don't go away very often.  Let me just share a few of the high points:

1)  The kitten learned, over the weekend, how to escape the enclosed space in the house we put him when we're gone.  He managed this because no one put the enclosure together properly.  The result was when I returned home loaded with suitcase, briefcase, and purse, kitten got out of the house because he was not in the enclosure and no one was home to catch him. 

2)  The whole house looked like a frat house after a serious toga party.  I'm not a great house keeper, but even I know that dirty socks and dinner plates shouldn't sit on the same footstool.

3)  The checkbook.  (insert dramatic sigh here)  My husband is a very smart man.  However, there is some disconnect in his brain between using the check card and actually entering his purchases in the check register.  I left the check book right on the table for him to write down whatever he did.  I also informed him that since the house payment was going to be due soon AND he wanted to go to his class reunion next weekend, maybe we shouldn't spend money liked drunken sailors.  I kept my part of the bargain.  I only spent the money I got from the book signing.  He, however, did not.  When I got home there were two receipts on the counter  (Why not in the checkbook on the table?  See #2 above).  Then, when I called the bank to check my balance, there were THREE MORE TRANSACTIONS he hadn't told me about.  (Okay, does he honestly think that if he doesn't write them down or give me the receipt, I won't know about it and it won't come out of the checking account?)

4)  The bedroom.  I loathe unmade beds.  Ask anyone I went to college with.  I'm not a good housekeeper, but I loathe unmade beds.  I'm gone two days...TWO DAYS and my bedroom looks, again, like a college dorm room, complete with underwear on the floor.  (Our bedroom door is six inches from the clothes chute.

The kitten was obviously needing some TLC, wich I gave him while I was shoveling mountains of rubbish from the living room into the garbage can.  (Seriously...ten feet apart.  You couldn't get the dirty kleenex ten feet?)  As family members returned from where ever they'd gone, it was also obvious that personal hygene had gone the way of house keeping.  Now, my kids are 13 and 16.  But sometimes even they need to be reminded to SHOWER.  I couldn't even stand next to THE BOY he smelled so bad.  (It was 4 in the afternoon...no one thought to say, Hey, maybe rinse some of the filth from Summerfest off?)  The GIRL was little better.  Oh hubby was fine, sure.

This weekend brings me to the question that pains mothers everywhere:  If I'm not a single parent, why am I the only one who is capable of keeping things in order?  I mean, I realize the HUSBAND is a good dad.  And he's always telling me I nag the kids too much about things, that I should tell them once and then move on. 

That might be fine for him.  But I really can't stand the idea of the house looking like some flop house in Calcutta with my kids wandering around covered in their own filth.

Maybe that's just me....

I'd trade one dirty kids for a balanced check book.  At least I'd know how much money I had to pay a disaster clean up company.