Single Parenting Sucks (Already)

So DH is out of town for a few weeks - as in, so far out of town he's on the other side of the globe. He's only been gone about nine hours and already I am sorely missing his presence. I've come to the conclusion that I've got to get the kids bathed, fed, dressed, entertained so that they don't kill one another, clean up those little floor-to-toe direct contact missiles known as toys in the dark, look after this house and the cars and all sorts of sundry household crap - all by myself. Thing is, I rely on DH to do so many different things - he is quite possibly, most helpful Dad in the world (which isn't to say he is perfect, it just means he's a damn decent human being.) For these weeks it's just me - the royal we of me, myself and I - against three five year old hellians. Now these kids are a lot of things - endearing, annoying, hungry, charming, exhausting, ridiculously illogical, funny, irritating, demanding (to name a few) - but they are, at least, not obnoxious. This means I will survive, right? So I was thinking I was going to do just fine without DH until two things happened. The first was the tooth incident. He is a very fine tooth-getter-outterer. I am not. I am a "If I try to push that tooth out I will spew" getter-outerer.The second thing that happened (and frankly, the straw that broke the proverbial) is that I lost my cheese sandwich. DH is also a very good cheese sandwich finderer.I'd gotten the kids dinner done and even consumed by them (in my defense, it was both filling and vaguely nutritious). I'd gotten them to bed, cleaned up the dishes, decorated two cakes, had a long telephone chat...etc etc before I realised I hadn't actually organised my own dinner. So at 10:30 at night I found myself making the ultimate comfort sandwich: imported expensive mayo and a slice of cheese on soft multigrain bread. Bliss! I then wandered around the house with it, nibbling as I went. I was looking for something to do, someone to talk to, some menial task which needed my attention, something which would distract me from the fact that I was all alone. It worked. I got distracted. I put my sandwich down. Then, of course, whatever the distraction was didn't last (and I can't remember what it was, because that was about 8 distractions ago). My stomach was sending my brain "I will starve" messages in an urgent sort of way. I went to get my sandwich, and it was GONE. Seriously. I can't find it. I've searched all the rooms and places I've been in, I went to the scene of the original distraction crime. My sandwich, quite simply, is not to be found. It's like it got sucked into a vortex, or squirelled away by some small animal. I can't find it. I need DH to come back and FIND my cheese sandwich. Otherwise it will look like the one above - ten years old, in a wierd shape, surrounded by cotton wool and with the Virgin Mary's face toasted into it. Although, being a Jewish household, it'll be a picture of Moses instead:
This post is just to say that the old chestnut is true: You don't know how much you need something until it's gone. In this case, I sorely miss DH's ability to be a brilliant Dad and other-person-in-the-house, and I really, really miss his ability to find cheese sandwiches. Stay tuned as I try to survive the next few weeks on my own with the "squids." This is the longest we've been without most-helpful-DH-in-the-universe. If he were here right now, he'd not only have found my sandwich, but he would have cleaned the dinner dishes (because, after all, I'm no good at it), made me a cup of tea, told me I'm gorgeous...wait a minute. Either this man is the world's most amazing DH, or he's trying to get some, ahem, "personal attention." Either way you've got to admire someone who thinks his wife (all demanding, annoying, messy haired 6 feet of her) is gorgeous even when she is demanding, annoying, and messy haired. But I digress. (Ohh, I've always wanted to say that!) I still have 17 days, 21 hours, 54 minutes and 51 seconds in which to a) survive the kids without any need for drugs and b) find my damn cheese sandwich. Otherwise it's a real waste of a schmear of this mayonnaise:

Mayonnaise, which, while expensive and sometimes hard to find in Australia, is SOOO worth it. Australian mayonnaise is just scary! But I'll bitch about wierd Australian foods in another post. In the meantime, if you have any single parenting advice, or any good ideas about just where the @#$%&! my sandwich might be (and no, I didn't eat it, I swear!), please feel free to leave a comment. Or just pray for me, whichever works for you.