It's all fun and games...until you're alone with two kids

Listen. The following story is true. I'm sure you wives and girlfriends and partners can attest that when your significant other is on shift, anything and everything will go wrong. It's hard for me to say this, because I like to think of myself as somewhat of a feminist, but I depend on Sean. A. Lot. He’s the level head, the one who literally holds our household together. I’ll be honest, I’d like to claim that title, but I’d be lying. Usually, by the time I fly in the door after a long day, it’s rush, rush, rush, dinner, bath and bed. Thankfully, Sean will usually have dinner started and laundry going and most of the time I have a clean house. So, imagine, if you can, the cyclone that is my life when he’s on shift. This particular story happened on a cold, snowy day. A little background for you; I have to leave my house with both kids, dressed and ready to go by 7:51 am or I’ll be late for work. After a significant

amount of snooze time, I realized it was 7:15. Shit. I flew out of bed, showered and was dressed by 7:30. I woke both kids and repeatedly fought with my 7 year old about the speed of which he was NOT dressing himself. Then, I hit the bathroom with my potty training three year old who couldn’t have possible taken longer to pee, flush and wash her hands all by herself. Look. I love them both dearly, but it was time to get a move on! Naturally, there were clothes scattered all over the floor, dogs tracking snow all over the house and a splattering of urine on my bathroom floor. There was no toothpaste on the counter today because there was no time to brush teeth. I shipped my kids to school and daycare with mismatched socks, a backwards shirt and smelly breath. #motheroftheyear.
 
After discovering I was wearing mismatched shoes and a long day at the office, it was time to make the 30 minute trek across the valley. I gathered up Lucy from her amazing daycare (Her hair was now in a pony tail and her shirt was on the correct way) Grabbed Jack from his after school program and headed home. It was now 6:15 pm. The kids were hungry so I fixed up my specialty, Lucky Charms. I promise that my kids usually have a great meal on the table at dinner, but sometimes, the cereal wins. Post “dinner” it was time for baths and showers. I popped Lucy into the bath and after a few rousing renditions of “The Wheels on the Bus” she gave me a panicked look. Before I knew it, poop...was all over the bath. Lucy, with her sweet little voice said “uh oh.” Uh oh is right. Look, I feel like I’m smart and that I’m capable of making hard decisions in the heat of the moment. What followed was a lesson in what not to do. My first thought was “I have to get this poop out of the bath” then, “No, I need to get Lucy out first” it was a pretty exhausting back and forth in my head for at least 30 seconds. The poop won. In my panicked state, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper; it’s what I do when the dogs poop in the house so my tired brain went there. Yep. I dunked that toilet paper into the bath so fast...and then immediately realized my mistake. Great. Now I have shreds of wet toilet paper floating in the tub with the poop. Also, did I mention that Lucy is still in the tub at this point? Plan B. Lucy takes a bath in my bathroom and I let the toilet paper and poop filled bath sit there until she’s finished. In the meantime, Jack is crying the hallway that he can never take a shower in his shower ever again because, "THERE'S POOP EVERYWHERE!"  In the middle of explaining to Jack how bleach works, Sean calls. I fill him in on the goings on. When Sean is on shift, he’s out of the house for two days. Stuck at the station and totally worthless when it comes to cleaning toilet paper and poop out of the bathtub. I know Sean wants to be home to help me. I know he feels bad when these things happen and he can’t do anything about it. It’s part of the life. After huffing on the phone in my best “I didn’t sign up for this” voice. I hung up with a quick “I love you.” And I immediately felt a rash of guilt. Could it be the influence of my mother and the “Catholic Guilt” she helped instill in my self-conscience? Possibly, however, the older I get, the better I am at recognizing my feelings and talking about them. I realized that I had treated Sean like this was his fault for being away. His fault that I had a bad day and his fault that I still had poop and soggy toilet paper waiting for me in the bathtub. I know that I speak for more than one fire wife when I say that we are pro’s at making our spouses feel guilty for things they have nothing to do with when they are away. Why did I do it? Here's the truth. I wanted to control the fact that Sean was away. I wanted him to know how hard it is when he’s gone. I wanted him to know that while he’s at the station, playing pranks and not eating Lucky Charms for dinner that I’m at home, alone with two screaming kids and a bathtub full of poop.  Here's the thing, what I said to Sean didn't make me feel good. It didn't make him come home from work, and it certainly didn't change the fact that I had a bathtub full of poop. Although it's really great and necessary to talk with your spouse about what's happening at home while they're not there, it's all about the approach. I could've just told him I was really busy and had to call him back when I wasn't so upset about the night from hell.  Instead, I took the low road, giving him one more thing to deal with on a shift that included a house fire, a meth overdose and a small child being hit by a car.  Suddenly, dealing with a bathtub full of poop seemed like a really small problem.  My unsolicited advice to you is this: Don't sugarcoat what's happening at home but approach it in a calm and constructive way. Truth be told, he's probably dealing with something that would cause me to sob uncontrollably or break out my best round house kick.  I'm still learning this whole "fire wife" role and to be honest, I'm winging it. Life. Motherhood. My eyeliner. Everything.