The answer is, to go away.
Because the only way to be regaled with tales of how this household falls into dystopia, is to leave everyone alone for awhile. This is the fourth year in a row that I've gone away to the BlogHer conference. From the start, my youngest has kept a daily tally of all the wrong doing and injustice that happens when I'm not here to make sure that all remains fair and just in this four bedroom French Country home.
It becomes Auggie's mission to let me know just how the mice play while the cat's away. I picture my son, with every non-imagined slight in his direction, take to the pencil and retrieve to a corner, sounds of lead scratching away furiously on paper as he fills page after page, nothing escaping his watch.
He takes this seriously. And so do I. As he ceremoniously hands the book of notes to me when I'm back home. But later, in a quiet 11 p.m. moment, I Am Dying.
These occurrences, they're very unordinary to him. It's what things are like when I'm not here, the one who is used to the flow of this home. A usual hamburger order through a drive-thru undoes my husband because he's not used to all the eccentricities of this tribe. I'm here for 70 percent of it all, and the kids forget that.
Auggie's BlogHer diary, er... List of Wrong Things has become worth the cost of leaving for a conference. Worth the pre and post work, worth the night without sleep to get everything done before I leave, worth the time away, WORTH it all, because I come home to the glory of this:
--Dad argued that a double hamburger, plain, is in fact, a special order. He says he needs *advance notice* before placing a *special order* at the drive-thru or else we have to go in if he doesn't know it's coming.
--Dad made us go for a walk for exercise. He walked like a robot the whole time like it was work. (mom I don't know how much I can take of robot walks)
--Disarray and Reign of Terror and Confusion Continuing. No comment. (see title)
--They let me sleep all day.
--We got one meal. He made us pancakes.
--Arguing all day over setting up Alec's laptop. Dad says he won't be ready for college.
--I think I have a rash from raspberries.
--I miss you. Alec hugged me and I cried. You are gone a long time. On top of missing you, Dad played his real self in basketball and beat me. (but don't tell him I told you)
--Later he said it's okay, so that's okay.
--Apparently I have to wear shorts today even though it's cold out because there's a shortage of clean laundry.
--Everyone forgot to tell me to take a shower while you were gone and on the last day they all yelled at me that I would stink for when you got home. That's why I have wet hair going to pick you up now mom. *It's like they want me to be a crazy science professor so I don't have to get washed up or anything.
--We're leaving to get you now mom. I'll see you soon and as soon as I see you can I open your suitcase for the souvenirs.
--P.S. All I can say is those better be SOME souvenirs you bring back.
* * *