Vacation

We are on vacation this week.  By that, I mean the baby and I are always home and rarely deviate from what we do every day.  My older kids are on summer break, theoretically a lazy twelve weeks of sunshine and video games.  We have actually been very busy, so I wanted a week of rest and fun. 

My husband took three days off, so we are calling it vacation.  We planned to do fun things around town since we just dropped a ton of money on a new furnace and air conditioner - it's fabulous, the new AC, but not as awesome as a trip would have been.  On my husband's first day, he worked, hiding in the back yard with his blackberry attached to his ear and his laptop on the patio table.  That's when I started being really annoyed with my vacation.  The one good thing about the first day is I typed up nearly two chapters of a manuscript I wrote nearly a year ago while my kids and husband were at the pool.  I felt accomplished.  Yeh, I know I was technically working on the vacation day too, but it's the thing I rarely have the time and quiet to do on other days.  My ideal vacation, if we had been able to leave home, would have included my laptop and journal.  I would have enjoyed everyone playing around me and would have sat on the balcony or maybe under a big sun umbrella, writing away with a margerita on the table next to me.

On the second day of our "vacation," no one could decide on what to do. The pool was out of the question because my husband was terribly sunburned from the two hours at the pool the day before.  The kids finally decided to go to the playground at the school in our neighborhood.  They vanished without doing what I asked them to do or applying sunscreen (no way I was going to let another day get ruined because of sunburn).  They apparently told my hearing-impaired husband where they were going, but he heard it totally differently, a daily occurrence in our house.  I hunted them down and could tell by the absolute surprise on their faces that they really did get the OK from the stepdad.  From there, the day got worse.  I didn't write at all, and the older kids and I did nothing while my husband took a very long trip to the grocery store until we realized my daughter's retainers were missing.  We spent the rest of the day cleaning, desperately searching for two pieces of plastic that will cost us $300 to replace, that likely got thrown in the garbage by our toddler while he said, "Ewwww!" with no one watching.  The garbageman already came that morning.  I would rather have dug through four bags of stinky garbage for the pricey plastic than have to sit in the orthodontist's office for another four hours, hearing them tell us how she needs to keep track of it better.  No kidding.  At least the house is cleaner.  My daughter's room is very tidy now.

Today is day three.  I woke up completely optimistic, a full two hours before anyone else woke up.  I made my coffee, watched the news, got a shower, and wrote my daily quota on the front porch, feeling peaceful and happy.  I decided for everyone what we would do today and planned to be totally positive about it.  I apologetically woke up my husband on my way to cut the grass and asked for help weeding and moving the toys and chairs in the back yard so I could cut the grass.  An hour later no one was outside helping me, and I was fuming mad.  I am so angry lately.  I am infused with anger lately, like I have been soaking in it, marinating in disappointment and frustration. 

My happy plans derailed for the day, I am going to ditch everyone and go get some fattening Mexican food.  Or hide in my office and work....