A few weeks ago, I boarded a plane and departed for a five-day getaway. After months of planning, I believed I had everything organized to ensure a seamless experience at home. I filled the refrigerator, laid out outfits for school, and arranged transport for my kids. While my partner isn’t the best cook, he’s an amazing father, so I felt confident they would manage just fine. I didn’t give him too much guidance because, let’s face it, as long as the house was still standing and the kids were unharmed upon my return, I would consider it a success.
So, off I went.
The first message arrived shortly after I left home that morning.
“Hey, the school is locked. How do we get in?”
Really? In 2023, we still need to remind people how to enter a school?
“Just ring the buzzer, and they’ll let you in through the office.”
I quickly texted back, probably rolling my eyes, and shoved my phone back into my bag, hoping this wasn’t an omen of what lay ahead.
My mother, perhaps sensing my husband might struggle, offered to watch the kids while I was away. I suspect she loves him more than me, given that he’s traveled without any offers of help from her before. But I digress.
While the kids were with my mom, I received another call. She suspected they were “coming down with something.” Of course, they were.
“Just send them back to their dad. I’m enjoying margaritas and chips and salsa three states away right now,” was what I wanted to say. Instead, I opted for a more supportive response, feeling guilty that I wasn’t there if they were truly unwell. (Mom guilt is a real thing, folks.)
My mom reassured me it was probably just a cold and promised to keep me updated. Despite her words, I spent the next 12 hours worrying.
The next morning, my phone rang again.
“Hi, I’m at the elementary school, but Claire says she feels like she might throw up.”
What on Earth? I’ve only been gone a day!
My dramatic six-year-old often exaggerated, making it hard to tell if she was genuinely ill or just faking to enjoy Grandma’s treats. Unable to assess her condition in person, I let her enjoy a day off with Grandma.
“If she’s really sick, I’ll eat my boot,” I joked as I hung up.
I’m glad there was no one around to hold me to that bet, because 15 minutes later, my mom called back to inform me that Claire had indeed thrown up in her car. I offered to return, feeling guilty about the mess in her vehicle, but my mom insisted they were fine and heading home for a bath. The rest of the day was filled with photos of Claire looking perfectly fine, dancing around with a Fruit by the Foot snack. Risky choice, but not my carpet to clean.
Later, my partner took over with the kids, and I braced myself for the next message. This time, it wasn’t a call, but a photo of a massive brush fire. I had jokingly said to not burn the house down, but now I was genuinely concerned. When I asked for details, he said he would call back because our four-year-old had jumped into the creek… fully clothed… in 40-degree weather.
For any dads reading this, maybe just say something like, “Hey, I’ll call you back.” Leave out the drowning part.
After what felt like forever, my partner called back to confirm the creek was almost dry and everyone was safe.
When I returned home the next day, I found the house intact, though it looked like a tornado had passed through. Dishes were piled high, and I wouldn’t be caught up on laundry for a while, but everyone had survived. And honestly, that was all I had hoped for when I left the previous week.
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Summary:
In a humorous recounting, a mother navigates the chaos that ensues when she leaves her family for a short trip. Despite her careful planning, her husband encounters mishaps with the kids, including a possible illness and a creek incident. Ultimately, the mother returns to a still-standing home, proving that sometimes survival is the best outcome.