It’s a given that life constantly throws an array of lemons and curveballs. Learning how to dodge and deal with them is imperative. This past week, I realised that I’m still trying to figure out the antidotes and escapist manouveres.
Plans for Mr Surfer to make an impromptu interstate trip began last Tuesday.
And by the following Wednesday morning he was gone to leave me with 3 days and 2 nights of solo parenting.
I know, I know.
On the grander scheme of things, I have no substantial grounds to complain. I humbly kowtow to single mums everywhere.
But I won’t lie. Raising the twinlets during the current toddler tornado stage is a heavy, mentally fatiguing battle. And while having to look after them on my own is rare, it’s a momentary lapse of living dangerously.
But it appeared I had underestimated my little monkeys.
When Mr Surfer called the next morning, I sounded confident, even a little cocky.
“They’ve been perfect!” I assured him.
To ensure that I wouldn’t have to be scambling around their cots in the middle of the night during those fatal dummy drops, we had stocked up on an extra supply.
So, it was a proud moment to say I didn’t have to use them.
But of course, this is when that curveball comes hurling at you out of nowhere.
If the first night was sheer heaven, the second was its stark contrast.
Both woke up several times before midnight. Only to take hourly turns thereafter.
Tears, screams, squirming little strong bodies pushing away the dummies I was offering.
By 5am, I was running out of both dummies and patience.
From there, it all collapsed into dischord and chaos.
Even though my eyeballs were ready to drop into my strong cup of tea that morning, I decided to take the monsters to the park from some fresh air.
Heading back home, there was the hope of some respite during their afternoon nap.
It’s that fine line of wishing something too much that of course, it doesn’t manifest. And despite how a nap normally falls with ease into our daily routine, this was the day (of all days), it wasn’t to be.
Trying to settle one in my arms, there were cries from the other for a particular Thomas train. I desperately searched the entire house without success while the screams intensified.
So, I tried offering some consellation trains.
No, he didn’t want Percy.
He threw Rosie out of his cot and across the room.
He wanted his beloved Spencer.
“Pencer!!!! Pencer!!! Peeeencer!!!”
The wailing was relentless.
My head was ready to crack as I cried along beside them.
Bearing it no more, one by one I plopped them both in front of the TV and switched on a Thomas DVD.
Yes, I’m a bad parent like that.
I wish I had the patience. I wish I didn’t get angry or frustrated. I wish an inbuilt mechanism helped me keep my cool.
I wish…I wish…
I just wish I had some sleep.
Just when it couldn’t possibly get any worse, Mr Surfer called to say his flight had been delayed. He was still at the airport. A bird was stuck in the engine. They had to wait for the next first available engineer to fix it. Of course.
4 hours late in his return, Mr Surfer found me on the couch, completely dishevelled and defeated .
Solo parenting, man.
I can do it. Just not very well.
What are your tips for successful solo parenting ?