Normally, I prefer to blog AFTER events so I can digest (in fact, I have 2 other blogs I haven’t made time to write yet), but seeing as – unlike my husband – I’ve never been trusted to be single mother of two, I’m starting now.

Yesterday my incredible husband (the better mom) left to head to Chicago for a college reunion. I was mentally prepared to drop two girls off at two different schools and make it back home in time to lead a two-hour monthly leadership meeting.

In true Mr. Incredible fashion, at the last minute Bart (who had a 9 am flight) offered to take our toughest dropoff, Ella, to school before he left. In true who-let-her-be-a-mom fashion, I let him (and I breathed a huge sigh of relief).

On the way to school, Zoe and I planned out our entire GIRLS WEEKEND in great detail. I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but I will tell you that during my lunch, I typed out that agenda and printed it (complete with hand-drawn hearts) both for my sanity and to keep Zoe excited.

So here’s how our first night went:

• I grabbed two waters, three snacks and my wallet, hopped in the tiny car and then picked up Ella at school (so far so good!)
• I decided to go by the grocery with just ONE kid to pickup a Boboli pizza crust so we could MAKE our own pizza for dinner (brilliant!)
• Ella took off her shoes on the way to Zoe’s school, which meant I would need to carry her to find Zoe and sign her out (it is not easy to get her to put her shoes back on). Ella did NOT like this option. So I carried a screaming child through an elementary school parking lot to find her sister. I let the nice after-school guy know that I was “flying solo” this weekend and asked how he thought that was going so far. He laughed at me (with me?) and we left.
• At home I pulled out the pizza crust, pizza sauce, pineapple, cheese, olives and set it up on a towel on the floor in the living room. I thought: nobody falls off a stool or chair and this should take seconds anyway. No, my husband would NEVER do this.
• We started off OK – a bowl for each girl with pizza sauce and a spoon. Then the cat realized what we were doing… Ella flipped sauce in her direction to shoo her away. We moved on to the cheese, which “mostly” got on the pizza, in clumps, which I sort of evened out. Pineapple on whole pizza, olives on Ella’s piece and into the oven. (we survived and it was almost fun!) Plus, how can you screw up a Boboli pizza?!
• I made green beans and chopped some huge red grapes (what a great mom – veggie and fruit WITH pizza!)
• Guess what? There actually IS such a thing as TOO MUCH CHEESE on a pizza. Who knew? Our children who absolutely LOVE pizza, would have none of it. Good news? They loved the green beans and grapes, and I made mac & cheese for second dinner…
• As the dinner was unraveling, I discovered the most traumatic news of all: THERE WAS NO CHARDONNAY IN THE HOUSE. Not warm, not cold, none. I had even gone to the grocery where I could have easily gotten some. EPIC FAIL.

I’m proud to share that both girls got washed, brushed teeth and went to bed (mostly) without incident. Let’s just say they were at the end of their good sister phase and sharing / listening skills were light – oh, and I was exhausted from a long week.

Regardless, we all survived with me only having to say to Zoe once when she was intentionally taking something from Ella and making her cry for the 10th time of the evening: “We will NOT spend the weekend like this. If you can’t get it together, we will stay in this house the whole weekend and not do ONE fun thing on our list.”

Not a banner mom moment, but then, I’m pretty sure I started this story with “who let her be a mom?”, so you can’t possibly be surprised.

This morning at 5:25, I had two little girls up and hungry (HOW DOES BART DO THIS?), but I was prepared. Can you say “Cinnamon Rolls”? I’m not a complete idiot. And I haven’t yelled at anyone yet, but then, it’s just 7 am.

I have the utmost respect for my mother, who actually WAS a single mother of two (and I happen to know that those two were NOT easy), and all the other mothers who do this DAILY and with a much higher degree of difficulty. Unfortunately, patience and kindness are not genetic, and again, I’m not so great at this.

I’m off to change a poopy diaper and try to remember to breathe (not during the changing but after). OH, and we might have Bart’s parents here tonight, a day early, so I could be not-so-single by evening. Wonder if Bart had anything to do with that?

Anyway, there are a lot of hours between now and then. Wish us luck.