|This is what it looks like when I try to sneak out of my house unnoticed.|
You see, staying at home? It's freaking hard.
Not only are you surrounded by other people, and their messes and noise all. the. damn. time, but you're also cut off from such niceties as business lunches and alone time commutes and having conversations with adults that don't center around which child you grounded that day and why.
So, since all the eleventy dozen kids have been off from school for holidays for the past two weeks and I have not had one single moment to myself unless I was claiming to be pooping, of course it makes sense that the weather would turn to shit and I'd be stuck home with all of them for another couple of days.
Who needs to shower in peace?
You'd think, given the fact that the kids are all half-grown, that there'd be little to no need for me to actively watch them and guide them and be all up in their grills every second, right? Yeah, well, you'd think wrong.
There's arguing over which three of them get to be on Netflix at any given time. Arguing over whose turn it is to use the computer. Arguing over who ate the last everything bagel and why the cream cheese was left out. Arguing over whose towels is in a moldy heap on the floor. Arguing over who is arguing.
Not only are they bigger, noisier, messier, more expensive versions of their toddler selves, but the whole reason they're home is because the weather's shit. This means I can't leave, either.
On the flip side, I've enjoyed a silent cup of coffee this morning and got the kitchen mopped- if you tell kids they'll be put to work if they venture downstairs in the morning, they magically manage to sleep in.
That's freaking bananas, but hey, whatever works.