Single Parenting is the Shit

As of Wednesday, I've been single parenting. Husband is at a convention of sorts until late Saturday night.

I've been dreading it a little. He's done this before and I found it very demanding taking care of the three kids on my own.

But, don't tell him, so far, so good. I've managed to take Baby Boy to soccer, send Daughter to her violin lesson, arranged a playdate for Middle Child (they did a science experiment gathering bacterial cultures. He's six, people). We went over a friend's house for pool time. I saw the older kids off on a school and Brownie field trip to a butterfly conservatory. Of course, get everyone ready for school, but that's nothing new. I even went to Junior Kindergarten orientation for Baby Boy which was exciting for him and emotionally draining for me.

Daughter, in particular, has been helpful. Middle Child will clean up after himself without me having to tell him seven times. Baby Boy still thinks the world revolves around him. Bring on kindergarten! The house isn't nearly as tidy as I'd have liked, but it's not too bad either. I scrubbed the floors and the dishes are clean.

I ensured our tradition of staying up until 9 on Thursdays was kept. I bought some Bits and Bites and we hunkered down to watch Middle Child's new favourite show, Pirate Master (like Survivor on a tall ship). I even bought fruit punch, which I never do, to compensate their father's absence. I will buy your love!

But maybe I'm doing too good of a job.

I asked the kids as I was tucking them in last night, "Do you miss Daddy?" Daughter nodded her head and gave puppy dog eyes. I know an act from that girl when I see it and this was not quite Sir John Gielgud but not Paris Hilton either. Middle Child was busy squeezing in a chapter of his book and didn't answer me. Baby Boy, on the other hand, opened his eyes and said, "Daddy's gone?! I didn't even know he left!"