Flashback

Does Painting My House Also Include Therapy And A One Way Ticket To Heaven?

We are having our house painted. Starting Tuesday at 8 a.m.. It’s an effort to save the siding and shutters. Or my husband’s secret plan to drive my insane.

The last time we worked on our house was a year after we moved in. Scott found a leak. I cursed our house inspector. And we got a new roof while I had two children under the age of four, one of whom napped twice a day. Well, she did until BANG BANG BANG BANGBANGBANGBANG

A bad, bad flashback.

During this trial of the Iwashyna’s Left Behind, I tried to let my daughter, N, nap downstairs while muzzling her rambunctious I-have-not-napped-in-a-year, E, with THE FURY OF MAMA’S EYES since we couldn’t go outside lest a shingle or small man fall upon my son. Plus, our lawn was littered with nails! For weeks!

Instead, it was twenty minutes of me glaring and going: Shhh, E be quiet. SHHH, E be quiet. DUDE, N IS SLEEPING!

N: WAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

E: Mama, N is awake again! I can talk!

I pretty much looked like this…

ALL WEEK LONG.

My husband, Scott, was at work from the moment the roofers arrived until exactly one minute after the roofers left. The first time he said, Wow! They’re working so fast!, I accused him of being the Anti-Christ.

Needless to say, I’m not very hopefully about my attitude and ability to handle house painting this week.

But I’m happy to report that on Wednesday, Scott is off and in charge of the kids.

I cannot wait to casually comment as I walk in immediately after the painters leave: Wow! They’re working so fast!

But if he agrees and tells me that our daughter took a great afternoon nap, I plan to cry until he promises to stay home for the rest of the week.

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