Malfunctions: The inevitable things that happen when one's husband is out of town

As I lay in bed last night, listening to the chirp of one of the smoke detectors in the house, signaling that its battery is low, I had to smile. It always happens this way; when the husband is away, everything goes astray. I started making a mental list of the things that seem to coincide with my husband's absence and decided I had to turn on the lamp and write it all down before I forgot.

1. As mentioned above, it never fails that the smoke alarms always need new batteries when the person who is six foot two is out of the state, leaving the person who is five foot one-half inch tall to remedy the situation. Even on the tallest stool, it is not an easy reach. Not to mention the fact that I inevitably set off the smoke alarm to full-blown siren level in the process of trying to detach it. And, naturally, the majority of those occurrences happen in the middle of the night, such as last night. Usually, I get up, swearing under my breath, and deal with it, since it's so annoying. Last night, I decided to shut my bedroom door and turn the fan up to jet engine noise level and ignore it, out of spite.

2. Math homework stops for no one. And, although I am a college graduate and by no means an idiot, my capacity to assist their children with their math homework ceased to exist by the time the kids moved from elementary to middle school. Geometry, the most hated of all math subjects of mine, is what my eighth grader is taking right now. I was in tenth grade when I took it, for crying out loud! Anyways, my daughter currently trapped in that horrible class doesn't even bother to ask me to look at her work anymore; she realizes it's a waste of both our time. Even the sixth grader yesterday was asking me for help; after I analyzed the question she was trying to answer, I decided it was just stupid and useless and confusing, and couldn't understand why she was being asked to do it. I informed her that she would never need to use this kind of crap for anything in her future. Then, we promptly called her dad on his cell phone for a long distance math tutorial. Problem solved.

3. Is it just me, or do children wait for their dad to disappear to become ill in the most messy ways? Is there some mathematical correlation that states that the volume of vomit and diarrhea produced by a child is inversely proportionate to the distance that child's father is from their home? (Hey, that sounded pretty brilliant; I wonder if I said it correctly.....)

4. Vehicular functionality decreases as well with the absence of one's husband; it is a truth according to the law of physics. Just ask my husband. Same thing applies to computer and television problems; it's as if the inanimate objects are just waiting for him to leave, knowing full well I don't have a bloody idea how to fix them!

5. It may just be my imagination, but the children seem to malfunction when dad is gone, too. Perhaps it is just that my level of tolerance decreases during the small-scale jaunts of single parenting, but I don't think so. I am convinced that there is more fighting among the little ones than normal. I am absolutely sure that there is more talking in general when dad is gone; it's like it never stops! And, everybody gets more touchy-feely; two nights ago, my second and third daughter both begged me before bedtime to let them sleep with me. I flatly refused, knowing I never slept well with kids in bed. Besides, I didn't want to set a bad precedence. To my dismay, the next morning when I awakened, which was around four, I had the firstborn and last born wedged on either side of me. I never went back to sleep; the oldest was complaining of some stomach pain mumbo jumbo, while the little one wielded his greatest weapon against me: his cuteness. "Mommy, I want to snuggle you." It gets me every time. I'm such a sucker.

I am sure the list goes on, but that's enough for now. My husband has learned that, with the now common usage of cell phones, you can go away, but you can't hide. Yes, he could ignore the multitude of calls he gets from his wife and/or offspring, but he has come to realize that that would be to his detriment as well as ours. As he has been quoted as saying before, you don't want to incur the wrath of the five foot one half inch blond.

So, husbands out there, the ones who travel frequently, if you ever wonder why, when you return home from your trip, anxious to be embraced into the bosom of your family, and your wife doesn't seem to respond properly to your amorous advances, it is because she is still mad at you for one or several of the above aforementioned items that, like it or not, you are indeed responsible for, and will now be held accountable. It would be in your best interest, upon returning home, to bring some really decadent chocolate.

Political update

Today, my seven year old asked me an important question at the dinner table. Okay, let me back up a little bit.

At this point in my life, I would describe myself as apolitical, if that's a word. Back in high school, and especially in college, I used to love talking politics and getting into discussions with others. My second major at WSU was Political Science, and I really enjoyed learning about the way a government works, both within the US and throughout the world. I would say that, on the political spectrum, I was about as far left as they come, before 1993. That's when I joined my husband's politically-uber-opinionated family. I can't recall the exact events that led to my self-induced banishment from all things political, but I know it had something to do with the saturation of vehemently vocalized 'truths' wearing on me. With right-winged talk radio on loudly and all the time, and a brother-in-law (also a poly sci major, like myself) who liked to argue with me and enlighten me as to the errors of my liberal ways, it didn't take long for me to shut down. I looked at it as self-preservation.

Since then, I have more or less steered clear of campaign rhetoric as much as possible, which is no easy thing. I don't get into political discussions at all, if I can help it. But, now I have children who are learning about things at school and talking with their friends. I guess I can't hide forever, especially with a big election only a month away.

Now, back to my story. Today, my seven year old asked me an important question at the dinner table. She queried, "Mom, who are you voting for to be president? John McCain or the brown guy?"

Biting my lower lip and trying desperately not to laugh, I replied a little shakily to her, "You mean Barrack Obama."

The seven year old immediately shouted out, her voice filled with shock and outrage, "You're voting for the brown guy?!?!" I'm not sure where that reaction came from, but wow!

Before I could clarify for the seven year old, the four year old, having a burning desire to add his two cents into the conversation, chimed in right at that moment, "Bronco Bama, oh yeah!" in his best impersonation of a rapper.

I decided to remain silent, grieving that my husband wasn't here to truly appreciate this moment. If you couldn't deduce it from the children's responses, my husband is a conservative Republican and avid Denver Broncos fan. Apparently, so are my children.