NCBE: When the Hubby's Away...

Update: The exterminator called. He can't come out until Friday. Today is Tuesday. Ugh.

My sweet Hubby doesn't travel nearly as much as he used to, but he still takes the occasional business trip. He left this morning for San Antonio, and my day with the boys started out normal enough. At least, normal for us. Goliath went to his friend Chandler's house to play, and I loaded up Little Middle and Baby to run a few errands. Here's a look at how the day progressed:

Little Middle, Baby, and I went to the toy store to pick out birthday presents for some friends. While I was waiting for the clerk to wrap the gifts, Little Middle and Baby noticed the plasma cars for sale and took a few spins around the store. My toes got run over more than once, and the little darlings suffered a sudden episode of hearing loss when I announced it was time to go. Goodbye, video game/TV time.

We had to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few items, one being cereal. I said "no" to Lucky Charms, but somehow we ended up purchasing Froot Loops with marshmallows. Huh?

After that, we went to the pet store. Although we have quite the menagerie, we only needed one item: Crickets. Live ones. I have never bought live crickets, and I don't think I will again. I don't care whose oversized lizard is starving to death.

The lizard got his lunch, and the little boys got theirs. They ate the Lunchables I had let them pick out at the grocery store, because I'm awesome like that. While I was eating my lunch, they went in Goliath's room and listened to music (no video games, remember?). Just when I was feeling so proud of them for playing together so nicely, they invited me to come in and see their new dance they had made up. The dance involved wearing pirate hats and standing in their brother's dresser drawers, which are now broken. Oh, and I could not locate one single hammer when I tried to fix them (although I'm certain we have at least 3).

At about the same time the two little boys were allowed access to electronics again, Goliath and his buddy showed up. Unless you've lived in a house where 4 boys are playing 2 separate video games on 2 different consoles in 2 different rooms, well--you haven't lived. I decided the best way to block out the noise and the yelling was to rearrange Goliath's room. My child, God bless him, is a slob. There's no other way to say it. I try not to nitpick about every little thing, but his bedroom looks like a war zone and every now and then I go on a rampage in there to make myself feel better. I don't know what made me decide to move furniture when I probably shouldn't have, but the big trash bag of junk I filled up was quite satisfying.

Goliath left again before he could admire my handiwork. After his room was cleaned (but not his closet--that's a whole other beast), I went out to water the yard. Seemed like a sensible thing to do, what with it being 658 degrees today and all. While I was watering, I noticed a message written in chalk on my front sidewalk: "Chandler is dum." I'm assuming Chandler's sister wrote it, although I'm not sure why she chose our sidewalk instead of her own.

It occurred to me that I should feed the boys some sort of dinner before I took them to their friends' birthday party. I don't cook much when Hubby is gone, so I gave them the choice of pb&j or chicken nuggets. They voted for nuggets, so I went to the freezer, and...you guessed it. No chicken nuggets. Rather, there was only the bag that the nuggets came in. EMPTY. Aarrgghh.

I slapped together some pb&j sandwiches, pretended not to hear their protests, then ran to make myself presentable and find new pants to replace the ones I was wearing when I dropped my lipstick on them. Hope that comes out. While I was searching through my closet (will I ever learn to keep up with laundry?!?) I heard voices. Goliath, Chandler, Chandler's sister, and one of her friends had come over and Goliath's opinions about his new room arrangement were coming through loud and clear. I chose to ignore him UNTIL I heard this: "Let's hurry so my mom won't see us."

They weren't fast enough. I appeared at my bedroom door as they were sneaking past it with Goliath's (very real, very expensive) guitar in hand. "Hello," I said pleasantly. "Whatcha doin'?"

"We're going to start a band," he explained, "and we need my guitar for our band practice."

"Oh, really?" I said. "That sounds like fun. Unfortunately, the only way you can have band practice with that guitar is if you have it in this house. Which, also unfortunately, can not happen right now because I have to take your brothers to a birthday party. So I guess you'll have to practice later."

I'm not sure Goliath's friends are impressed with my mothering skills.

The older kids left, somewhat in a huff. Little Middle, Baby, and I headed to the birthday party. The kids had a great time; I endured a stifling encounter with a person I am glad I don't see very often. I ate a granola bar and a piece of Hello Kitty birthday cake for dinner.

During the party, Goliath called to see if I would be home in time for his newly-formed band to practice tonight. No. No, I wouldn't. On the way home I collected him from his pal's house and thought how grateful I was that the day was almost over.

We made it home! I only had to get them bathed and to bed before I could collapse. This thought was comforting me when I heard, "MOOOOOMMM!!! There are bugs in our bathroom!!!"

I went to have a look-see, and sure enough, the bathroom had mysteriously been infested with strange bugs while we were out. I was able to identify tiny ants crawling around the edge of the bathtub, but there were many more, much larger bugs WITH WINGS. I don't do bugs if I can help it. But there was no choice--I went in armed with a fly swatter in one hand and a bottle of Spic and Span multipurpose cleaner in the other. The more I killed, I swear the more they multiplied. I finally called Hubby and told him we were being invaded by giant ants with wings. He might have snickered if he hadn't heard the desperation in my voice. He instructed me to see if I could tell where they were coming from, then spray every which way with the pest control spray I would find by his workbench in the garage.

Did you know that the bottles of bug spray and coolant for your car look similar?

I did as I was told, closed the bathroom door, and will not open it again until the exterminator arrives tomorrow morning. Then I washed my hands. More than once.

Hubby texted me a while ago to see if I was OK. I replied that besides being grossed out and feeling a little itchy, I am fine. I also mentioned that "all the best stuff happens while you are gone." He replied, "So it seems."

I have left out the parts about me trying to wrangle the hyperactive bird dog, running from a persistent wasp, and knocking over our trash can with my car.

Babe, I love you. Please hurry home.