The Aftermath of Holiday Abroad

556

27 July 2012

R. Linda:

I meant to tell you this when I got back from Ireland, but it was an adjustment to be back, and I was not in my usual wonderful mood, so I didn't write it up. But now, I can get through this without whining too much.

At work, I am seen as a happy bloke, reasonable, helpful, and optimistic. I have, at times, moments of brilliance and idealism that are unequalled by any of my co-workers. Yes, a little self-aggrandisement always boosts the old ego when one is feeling a wee bit down. All these good things make my work life a joy, the daily challenges of my job bearable, and everyone likes me, which is a good thing. So, I have blessings in that area.

Usually, I look forward to me work week, and I know that family sometimes interferes with how much I enjoy me work because there are always those nagging challenges in the back of me mind that filter in all day long. Like, if my wife will be late getting home, I can get off early, therefore, O'Hare gets a playdate and Guido can be dropped off for library storytime. That sort of thing, no great shakes, but I try to keep me parenting an ongoing good experience along with the job.

But after being run all over Ireland day in and day out, with not much sleep in between, then a six-hour flight back home on top of it, I found upon me return that Gabe was not Mr. Sunshine; he was Cruella deVille's brother. Yes, there were no smiles, no jokes; instead, there was darkness. The sun had decidedly given over to a very gloomy cloudy day to which I got from the wife at one point, "Hey grumpy, can you ditch the dark alter-ego?"

Well, no, it was difficult. I was experiencing jet lag, like you would not believe. All I wanted was sleep, sleep and more sleep, and it was not forthcoming because I had to work and the drive in was long and tedious. And, at work, I was backed up for the entire time I had been away, so there was lots to do, lots of time to make up, and Gabe was not a happy lad by any stretch of the imagination. 

That first morning, I couldn't get meself up. I noticed neither could anyone else. We were all walking into walls and acting dopey. The wife and I downed two pots of coffee as the kiddos (with heads in hands asleep) napped at the table while their cereal snapped, crackled and popped without them. It was terrible, I tell ya! You would have thought the clocks had been set back. Somehow, we got out the door and went our respective ways. When I got to work, I lurched in and vaguely remembered people asking me about me trip, but me gloomy countenance soon scared them all away. My desk had files as tall as the Empire State Building on it, and I stood there getting grumpier, glaring at all the work!

I threw meself into it and somehow got the majority of it out the way. How? I think it's because I was well-wired from six pots of coffee I drank by myself. If anyone saw me in the office lounge, they quickly hurried away, so mostly, I had all that joe just for me. I think me walking around muttering to meself was also a deterrent and then the phone call from me wife that she was not going to be able to fix or pick up dinner because, for her she also had a load of work she needed to do, and could I fend for meself? Oi! That was the last thing I wanted, was to stop at the store, pick up food items (we had none at home) fix dinner for me and the kiddos, and I also didn't feel like stopping off for fast food. I'd spent well over a week eating out, and I wanted REAL FOOD! That darkened me mood more and I became snappish. Yes, I did. I snapped at everyone within hearing distance. 

I packed up some files to take home since I now had to be the one to pick up kiddos, and that did not add to me becoming human, it made it worse. I was dead tired, and the thought of energised children running and screaming around with dogs chasing them, well . . . last thing I needed. Then, it struck me that I would be feeding the zoo as well. Oh, joy. Just as I was in the middle of cursing traffic on the Spalding Bridge, me mobile rang, and it was the wife telling me I didn't have to leave early, Glenda (her friend) was picking the kiddos up and she would take them home and stay until I got there. Well, nice of Glenda, the good witch, but Gabe, the prince of darkness, was already on the road and on the way to pick up his brood. Okay then, would Gabe, the dark prince, please call Glenda the good witch and tell her never mind. Oi, oi, oi! 

I wanted to tear my hair out. I had to wait until I got to where I could pull off the road and call Glenda. Gees, Louise! I did that. I don't know what I said, but I told her to leave the kiddos in place, and I was on my way. I set off again, and the delay in making a phone call put me in heavy traffic and further plunged me into the dark doldrums. 

I was ten minutes late to the school. I dragged me protesting body inside, I went to the classroom, but O'Hare was not there. I went to the nursery, and the other one wasn't there; no one was anywhere I could ask about me kiddos. I traipsed to the office. There was Miss Marsh. I asked her where me boyos were, and she told me on the playground. Why didn't I think of that? So I shlepped on back there. Sure enough, I saw one; almost collided with the other, and then it was small talk with Mrs. Carson (the teacher's aid), and the hunt for backpacks began. Misplaced somewhere we hunted for them until finally O'Hare remembers they were back in the classroom. For joy! So it's back to the classroom, and we get the bags, and I haul the boyos to the car, get them in their car seats and off we go.

I was exhausted. I asked them what they wanted for dinner, and of course, it was foolishness like ice cream, cake and candy with soda. No, no, no, I tell them, we must eat healthy. But I didn't feel like cooking healthy, so I decided to pick up Chinese food on the way home. No they start screaming they don't like Chinese food. Ok, then, how about pizza? No, they yelled; they had a lot of pizza last week when the in-laws took care of them while we were away. They never want to see pizza again. Great, I've not seen nor had a pizza in over a week and would have enjoyed one, but NO! So it was that old standby McDonalds. Yea . . . not!

Dinner, we ate at home, and it turned into a three ring circus. They were munching on their burgers and feeding the dogs french fries after I told them not to. The cat jumped onto the table while my back was turned and had eaten most of my Big Mac as the two kiddos laughed. I turned around and was gobsmacked. I shooed Mr. Kits off the table, and O'Hare told me that Unca let him come onto the table and the countertops anytime he pleased. Wonderful. I made a mental note to talk to 'Unca' real soon.

I had no dinner, just fries. I sat there gloomily munching, hoping one of the boyos wouldn't want this burger, but no, all gone. I sat there silently, fuming that me life sucked. Meanwhile, the boyos had left the wrappings and were chasing each other around and the dogs were chasing them and it was deafening. I shouted at them, but nothing happened. I got up and yelled louder, and they all stopped and looked at me.

"Da iz havin' a nervous break-up," O'Hare whispered to his little bro.

"Da is not having a nervous BREAKDOWN; he wants SILENCE!" I said.

"They why are ya shouting?" Guido asked.

Oh boy. I now had a headache. The pounding was like small hammers on anvils. I needed to lie down, but I couldn't. I had to feed animals. I wanted to shoot meself because feeding the dogs and the cat was like being in a lion's cage with hungry lions and you are dinner. The Newfie was licking my shoe, the setter was standing two feet on the floor, the other two on the counter top. The cat was rubbing itself on me face with an arched back and purring as it went back and forth on the countertop in anticipation of FOOD, something it would enjoy from the man who had none for himself. Try to put food in bowls with that going on, and in the background is WAH! "Da, he won't give me my water gun!"

Water gun? What water gun? Not in the house. I quickly put bowls on the floor and left the cat to eat on the counter, which was a no-no. I went into the living room to see water dripping down the walls as Guido let go jets of water at his brother. I ran to take the gun away and admonished both of them to get paper towels and wipe down the drippy walls. "But Unca said it was ok," was the complaint. Unca huh? Oh my God!

We were now in whining mode. Yup, they complained the entire time about having to wipe up the mess. One because he didn't do it, the other because his brother was a moving target. I decided quiet time was needed and suggested that once finished with the walls, they sit down and watch the telly or read a book. Well, they got books but turned on the telly too. How does that work? I left them to go clean up the kitchen. I wasn't in there, but for two minutes, I heard THUMP and a loud wailing. I went in and it seems O'Hare threw his book at Guido's head for the water soaking earlier. I took the books away, admonished the miscreant and went back to clean up, cursing my wife's tardiness under my breath.

"Da, come in here, Guido's mooning me!"

"For God's sake." I went back to find the youngest running around without pants. I got him put back together, and while I was telling him how unhappy I was with that behaviour he was laughing, and his brother also found it funny. Once again, with a stern warning of bedtime coming early, I went back to finish me cleanup.

I sat down and got this, "Da, we wanna snack. Can we have peanut butter and jelly sannies?" 

"You just ate. You can't be hungry."

"WE ARE," and whine, whine, whine. 

So I got the peanut butter and jelly down to find no bread. But I was told 'unca' left a box of goldfish, so I put a dab of peanut butter and jelly on teeny goldfish crackers. I had to ask meself why I was doing that, but I was tired, I didn't know and I didn't much care. I was robotic by then but not quite gone. I texted the wife, "Living a nightmare, WHEN are you coming home?"

I got a text: "I'm two minutes away, just gassed up the car, on my way."

THANK THE HEAVENS! 

But that euphoria didn't last but five seconds. Guido had put his entire hand in the peanut butter and had begun to chase his brother around the kitchen table. I got up to grab one as he went by, but before he got to me, he tripped, and the other one fell over him. I started screaming at them, screaming at each other. The louder I got, the louder they got. This attracted the dogs, who came in barking both of them until the setter smelled the peanut butter, and she was all over Guido licking his face and hands as he struggled to get her off, and O'Hare, when he tripped, had got a face full of the stuff from Guido's person. The setter knew it and had both of them pinned down while the Newfie had got on her hind legs and had her tongue in the peanut butter jar on the table. 

I was shouting at all of them when Tonya walked into what looked like a war zone. 

Somehow, she separated us, got the dogs closed in the back hall, the boyos cleaned up and had me sitting down with me head in me hands while she got me some Ibuprofen and a glass of water. She patted me on the back and told me to sit and relax, she'd get the boyos to bed and be right back. 

"Great, thank you," I said and closed me eyes to near peace and quiet, except for the whimpering of the setter, who wanted to be let back in. 

Tonya came back and made some tea. She told me I could use a cup it looked, and then surprised me with oatmeal raisin cookies that were homemade by someone she works with. They were the most delicious dinner I had had. Once settled down, I took meself to bed; it was shortly after the boyos, so it was an early night, though it seemed late. I slept the sleep of the dead and found I had transformed back into me old self by the next morning. 

It took me a good three days to get fully back to normal, well normal for me anyway. I tell ya! No more TOUR-type holidays for me! No more late-night flights or long waits to get on a plane. I know, I know, I can't do a bloody thing about that, but bear with me, it makes me feel better to just say stuff like that. Anyway, everything at the abode has fallen back into our regular routine except for Mr. Kits and the countertop. He doesn't attempt the kitchen table anymore, but he does  (when we aren't looking) lay himself out on the countertop like he owns it. I hate to tell you how many times we have sanitised that counter. But I found a surefire way to get him off in a hurry; those water guns come in real handy. Yes, they do!

Gabe
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