She's gone, gone, gone...

My wife left me yesterday.

Actually, she's just gone for the weekend. The kids and I bought her a scrap-booking weekend with a bunch of other ladies as her birthday gift. I don't think I've ever seen her so excited. She loves scrap-booking and is very, very good at it. Last year a friend of hers got 82 pages done in one weekend. Sheila said she has every intention of blowing that number out of the water. And I imagine she'll probably do it. A creative woman, that one.

So that leaves me at home with the kids for the weekend. And once again, I've discovered how much she actually gets done around here. No, I take that back. I've discovered that she gets more done than I can imagine and I have absolutely no idea how she does it.

It's Saturday, so I set my alarm for 6:30 so I could get up and have some quiet time before Preston and Josh woke up. I got about 15 minutes. Just long enough to get the coffee going and get a shower. I came out of the shower to find Josh awake. So from there it wasn't long before Preston was awake.

It's get Josh on to the commode, (still working on potty training), get Preston his medication, get Josh his medication, feed Josh, feed Preston, empty the trash so it doesn't tumble off the top of the mountain the kids have piled up so that they don't have to take the bag out. And then discover the last time Isaac took the trash out he used the last trash bag and decided not to tell anyone that we had no more bags. So I shove as much of the new trash in the last bag going at as I can get to fit and leave the rest on the counter.

Empty the dishwasher, load it again, set the timer for it to start in about an hour since I've used up all the hot water in my shower and the subsequent cleaning of crusty dishes so that the dishwasher can finish cleaning them, wonder what sense that makes.

Get a cup of coffee, listen to Preston tell me about the cars that are cool and that he thinks I should buy from the Ohio Auto & RV sale magazine. Find Josh asleep on the couch buried under the cushions. Change him again since I missed his pottying time, apparently. And it's not even 8:30 yet.

And my wife does this every morning, even on the weekends. I don't know how she keeps going.

I hope she's having fun and I can't wait for Sunday afternoon to get here... so I can see her again.