#1 left this morning. He, his brother, RH and a friend headed up into the mountains, where they will push some cows around and camp out in the clear, crisp, early winter air. #1 thinks he'll be home Tuesday, but you never can tell.
And I am home alone with Sawed-Off and H-Bomb. At 8:00am, the boys have already been up for two hours. #1 was long gone by then. Sawed-Off ate two bowls of oatmeal and somehow managed to smear it everywhere in the process. H-Bomb ate oatmeal as well, but thankfully is beyond the smearing phase.
I am still in my pajamas, covered in oatmeal. This happened when I had to intervene when Sawed-Off was breaking a piece of H-Bomb's dinosaur castle and poked himself in the eye. Luckily I nipped H-Bomb's screaming in the bud by saying, "I'll fix it. I'll fix it. I'll FIX it after I have my coffee." enough times quickly and I suppose quite convincingly. Frankly, I don't know if it can be fixed. It's plastic, and the problem seems internal. Something about a cage door made of plastic bones, that no longer opens when you push the button. Who knows. Don't tell H-Bomb I'm having doubts. Maybe Daddy can fix it when he gets home on Tuesday. Or whenever.
So while I am here, dealing with the squabbles of a four year old and an almost two year old, explaining why wrestling each other on my four foot tall bed just might be a bad idea, #1 is out riding.
#1 and the rest will be packing in on horses to a place that isn't accessible any other way. I haven't had enough coffee to exactly recall their plans, but I know they have to round up cattle and push them out of a valley, up a steep and dangerous trail to one of the winter ranges. I know they will be camping on the ground, I know they didn't take a tent. I know they will be hours away from ranch headquarters. I know I would have liked to go with them.
I always have mixed feelings when #1 goes off and leaves me here with the boys. On one hand, it's nice to have some time, without having to cook major meals (the boys love noodles and raw vegetables and cheese and crackers and fruit) and to be able to watch whatever I want on television, if I can sneak it in between Baby Einstein and [insert Disney movie here]. Sometimes I feel like I am able to get more things accomplished, in between dealing with the minutiae of two young boys' lives, because I know it has to be done, that #1 won't be coming home at night to help with dinner and get the boys ready for bed.
On the other hand, when I'm by myself, I don't get a break until the boys are both in bed. I have more responsibilities, we have to feed the sheep and take care of the dogs and cats. And usually I have to push in some cows that have busted out, as I've told you about here and more recently here. And sometimes I feel like I am unable to get things accomplished, because I am dealing with the minutiae of two young boys' lives. By myself. And I know that #1 won't be coming home at night to help with dinner and get the boys ready for bed.
Lately, I have been exhausted and feeling overwhelmed from this minutiae. #1 has been so incredibly busy, since CG broke her foot in early November and RH took a vacation for his son's wedding. I have been home, at the house, with the boys, by myself, a lot. My parents were here around Thanksgiving, but I am still exhausted.
Even though CG and Wifey are technically "here," (so thankfully I probably won't have to add the generator to my list of duties), and despite the fact that we all live within 1/10th of a mile from each other, I most likely won't see either of them unless we suit everyone up and go out with the intention of seeing them. Unless one of them has a computer problem, or Wifey wants to talk about the generator. CG still has her broken foot, and who knows what Wifey does all day long. I sure don't.
The boys are at difficult ages--H-Bomb is four, old enough to do lots of things by himself, old enough to play with certain toys (legos, playdoh, scissors, etc.) without supervision, and yet Sawed-Off at age 21 months, can't play with certain toys without tasting or throwing them (playdoh, legos, etc.) or carting things off all over the house and grinding them into the couch (playdoh, goldfish, juice). Even if he isn't carting things off, he is covered in them (read: oatmeal) and thus smears whatever he touches. If I could just follow these boys around with a wet/dry shopvac with a bathtub attachment on my back, maybe my house would stay clean for more than two seconds.
Why doesn't she just clean him up, you might be asking yourself. The answer is: I have, and I do. I have cleaned Sawed-Off up from his (by now) three bowls of oatmeal two times this morning. The problem is, the bowls are not exactly consecutive. He eats one or two, then gets down and takes a break. During which time I clean him up. Later, he comes back for more. He asks me for more with both words "Mah, Mah" and sign language "please." And then he needs some juice. That entails a trip to the kitchen, smearing all the way, so he can point to the juice to clarify he wants juice. I know he wants juice. Last night he screamed, pointing at the juice, when I gave him water instead because he had just brushed his teeth.
Imagine this kind of interaction, going on all day long, in between playing and screaming and wrestling and wanting things and trying to clean the house. You can imagine why sometimes I would rather be freezing my butt off on the back of a horse, freezing my butt off pushing cattle through the snow-covered desert and freezing my butt off sleeping under the stars with #1.
I think I'll ask him for a bedroll for Christmas, so some day, if we can ever get a babysitter, I can actually go with him and freeze my butt off.
