Travel and Two Kids

As intimidating as having two kids may have been, it was nothing compared to the intimidation of knowing Andy was going to have to take his first business trip when Reid was a mere two weeks old.

Knowing other moms of two, I knew that the first time home by yourself with two kids is as momentous as it is terrifying. How do you put one kid down for a nap when the other needs to eat? How do you juggle a crying baby when your toddler is in the bathtub?

Well, said business trip came and went. Graham stayed home with me the first day. Then my friend (and knight in shining armor), Sherryl, offered to run Graham to daycare for me on Day 2. It was trying, but I made it. We made it. It became clear after that trip, though, that a follow-up trip was necessary the week of Christmas – two days after Christmas to be exact.

Again, the boys and I hunkered down in the house and managed to survive. This one was a day trip, so it was a little simpler than the last. Still – a huge sense of accomplishment at having kept two boys fed, well-rested and entertained for a day.

No time to feel relieved though, because – come later that day – I found out that Andy had YET ANOTHER TRIP on the docket for the following week. This week. If you’re keeping track, that’s three business trips for Andy in as many weeks. Two of those weeks being holiday weeks.


At this point, I’m getting more confident with two. So confident that I decided to make Graham’s favorite meal for dinner last night: spaghetti and garlic bread. If you’re forgetting the steps involved, that’s boiling water, cooking noodles, browning ground beef, heating up sauce, preheating an oven and toasting garlic bread. That’s about five steps too many for being a man down. But I was cocky, I mean… this was my third time doing this, right?

As I relayed to Andy on the phone at the end of the night: “Handling the two of them by myself is fine… until it’s not.” If Graham is cooperative, it works. If the baby is sleeping or fed and happy, it works. When one of those doesn’t happen, I have to resist the urge to hunker in a fetal position in the corner and wait for reinforcements.

And, of course, that happened about the time the ground beef hit the searing hot frying pan – thus locking me in to the meal I’d originally planned. During that time, Graham was systematically dismantling and destroying everything in the house, the baby was crying anytime he wasn’t held, which was a lot because things were being shuttled in and out of the oven and on and off the stovetop.

At one point in the night, the house was wrecked with toys and other shrapnel resulting from a toddler entertaining himself. The kitchen, disgusting with all the food and dishes sitting out. Graham was miraculously sitting at the table, eating – and covered in spaghetti sauce. My plate of food was getting cold on the counter because, of course, the baby needed to eat RIGHTTHEN.

But then, a miracle happened in the form of a baby falling soundly asleep after his feeding. I not only got to eat my dinner, but I got dishes washed, Graham down to bed, the kitchen and rest of the house cleaned, laundry and dishwasher started and poured a glass of wine for myself.

Because, you know – it’s fine. Until it’s not. And Andy’s coming home today with no more travel in the foreseeable future.

Hallelujah, amen.


  1. :)

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