Who are these kids?

Seth is out of town. That alone should strike terror into my heart (and the heart of my kids). It's not that I can't function without him, but after a day of schooling and momming, I need a respite in the form of a chipper, whitty helpmate. He's my knight in business casual. On good days (most of them are) I'm surprised when I hear the garage door open. Other times I'm checking the clock wondering why in the world my relief chose TODAY to stop and get gas.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Unfortunately, there was no relief coming. I had to bear the brunt of my children's anarchy alone. I made them take naps. I made let them watch a movie. I pulled out crayons, pencils, and journals and let them draw for hours on end. Nothing helped. Yesterday, the rascals surrounding me were not my children. They were loud, obnoxious, rude hellions. I found myself staring at the three of them as they laughed maniacally at some rudeness that had erupted from one of their bodies. I wondered if 5:30 was too early for bed. I decided I should probably feed them dinner first. Perhaps full bellies would calm them. Alas, after dinner I finally admitted defeat and sent them to bed early.

My only hope was arriving today. My Mom. Dear, sweet Mom is coming to my rescue.

She thinks she's coming for the rest of the week to prepare for the upcoming arrival of our newest anarchists kids. I want her to come so she could save me from insanity. My kids will be enthralled with my mother and give me a break. They will become the children that I know and love. I hope so. This morning I squeaked when I woke up. It has snowed all night long. Schools are cancelled, roads are icy. This means no Mom. This means I may be alone again today. I hope that the little creatures who arise in a few minutes are my children and not the wild monsters that were visiting yesterday.

I may go on strike.