Mike is in London for business. He left on Saturday afternoon. I hate when he leaves on a weekend. I’m fine (mostly) when he’s gone Monday through Friday, but I always feel lonely when I’m alone with the kids on weekends.
Except I was hardly alone. The boys never left my side. They circled me like sharks, actually, sometimes following me from room to room while I put laundry away, paid bills, showered or went to the bathroom. My in-laws and sister-in-law came over for dinner on Saturday night and then hosted us on Sunday for a morning at the beach and pool and then lunch.
Mater’s Tall Tales was on a constant loop in the family room and MSNBC or the Food Network kept me company in the kitchen. Facebook and my iPhone were perpetual distractions. My parents called daily to check in (or I called them), and let’s not forget about Harry who was always wagging his tail for a walk or a treat.
On Sunday afternoon, we skyped with Mike from his quiet flat in a strange neighborhood in the huge city of London in a different country five hours ahead all the way across the Atlantic ocean. He was alone. Yet, I was lonely.
Now, it’s (Guilty Mama) Monday morning. The boys are at camp. The house is silent, and besides the dog sleeping on the couch behind me, I’m alone. And I don’t feel lonely at all. Isn’t it ironic?
In other irony news, Comcast bombarded my cell phone all weekend with automated messages about an alleged appointment I had this morning. I never made an appointment, and I tried to call them to explain that there was a mistake but their stupid automated system wouldn’t connect me to a human being. Eventually, I gave up. This morning, I woke up at 5:30am (thank you, Riley) to find my cable, Internet and phone service was down. Hmm.
Any irony in your life today?