Brian just returned from a 3 day business trip. Meanwhile, I manned the homestead...reared the children, kept the home fires burning (I mean that in a metaphorical way...the house wasn't actually on fire - although there was a small grease fire in the kitchen one night). Anyway, that was 3 straight days and nights alone with the kids. It went well. By "well", I mean that I managed to make it through the week without being committed to a psychiatric facility and I'm still technically in "one piece" - however that doesn't account for my soul which has been shattered into mere fragments of what it once was after several days alone with the kids - which from here on out I shall refer to as "Thugs".
No sooner had Brian pulled out of the driveway, and the Thugs (AKA - Lauren, 4 and Benjamin, 3) gave each other knowing looks and evil little smiles. It was like a roving gang of wild, rabid dogs in the backwoods of the deep south, packing up and preying on the vulnerable loner. By the end of day 1, the distribution of power had clearly shifted in favor of the Thugs. There were demands for junk food and movies on the big TV, and a clear bucking of all the rules. Bedtime had no meaning, the word "routine" was a distant memory. By morning, the Thugs had recruited other members into their pack. Our English Mastiff, Brynn went to their side. By lunchtime, I had been roughed up and my lunch money had been stolen. The 3 of them laughed and ate Goldfish at the picnic table outside, while they barked orders at me and I catered to their every whim. I lost track of how many peanut butter & jelly sandwiches I made that day. My hands ached from cutting crusts from their sandwiches. The juice boxes were flowing, and by the end of day 2 - Ben had scored a pack of unfiltered Camels and rolled them up in his t-shirt sleeve - Fonzie style. Lauren dyed her hair black, got her eyebrows pierced, and started going by the name "Magnolia" and Brynn had gotten a tattoo of an anchor that said "Ma".
I was relinquished to sleeping on the floor as they took over my bed. I couldn't sleep, anyways, as their cell phones rang all night long - Lauren changed her ringtone to "Gansta's Paradise" - the official anthem of the Thugs, and it played over and over as victory was claimed.
Brian returned home to find that war had been waged, and my only allies had been Cheeze-Its and wine. Luckily he brought peace offering gifts to the Thugs in the form of stuffed animals and t-shirts, and a truce was declared.
I'm still a bit shaken by the whole experience, however I've learned a valuable lesson - which is obviously that I need my own "anthem" for the next time it's me versus the Thugs.