The Norwegian Widower – Day 1

At twenty past one yesterday afternoon, I kissed Kacey goodbye at the Minneapolis airport.  She is spending the next nine days in Norway on an outreach mission through our church.  Kacey did not take our two children with her, nor did she take our three cats.  One person she did take was my mom, the generous lady who normally saves me in these situations.   As a result, I am left to my own devices to ensure that these five living creatures are still breathing and healthy when my wife returns next Thursday. 

Except for balancing the checkbook and helping the kids with their math homework, my wife does most everything to keep our household running: cooking, cleaning, shopping, and a bunch of other stuff I am probably going to find out about at inopportune times.  At my request, at least she left me a somewhat detailed list of responsibilities I needed to attend to that I may not otherwise have thought of: feed the children, make sure they take baths, make sure their hair is combed before school, feed the cats, and empty litter boxes.  She even took a picture of my son’s full lunchbox to show me what it should look like before I stuff it in his backpack.

Facing the week ahead, I know the toughest tasks will be to provide the kids with someone healthy meals and to keep the cats alive and in one piece.  I also have a huge goal to teach my daughter how to swallow a pill.  She has a prescription drug for her ADD, and each morning’s attempt to get her to take her medicine is full of screaming, kicking, and tears… and that is just Kacey.

The primary characters I expect to be involved in this saga are as follows:  Tito, age 11, Bitsy, age 9, Dolly Mama (age unknown) and her two one-year old boys (Scarf and Scamp), and Big Daddy (aka, my dad).

If you wish, tune in each morning to see how the previous day fared.  These will be fairly quick hitters, as I am focusing my writing these days on my book.  Onto Day 1…

As I had a consulting meeting to attend, my first job as a Norwegian Widower was to ask Big Daddy if he could pick up Bitsy after school.  Whether he knows it or not, Big Daddy will be my right hand man during these nine days.   After successfully retrieving her, he took the kids out for an early dinner of burgers and fries (for Tito) and pizza (for Bitsy).  My dinner consisted of their cold leftovers, as I imagine will be the case more than a few times over these nine days.

When I brought the kids home from Big Daddy’s house, I immediately allowed them to have an hour on the computer instead of jumping right into their homework.  I was exhausted, after all, and justifiably so.  My trip to the airport eliminated the usual late morning nap that has become a part of my sabbatical.

Upon arriving home, Tito proclaimed that one of the cats had barfed on the stairs.  My wife and I have a deal: I allow our family to have cats, but she takes care of them.  I asked Tito how much I would have to pay him to clean up the cat barf (note: normally we do not pay our kids when asking them to do things, but this seemed extraordinary).  He started the bidding with $5; I countered with $1.  Neither of us budged and the cat barf continued to sit there – perhaps it is easier to clean up when it dries, I don’t know but I guess I will find out.

I successfully moderated the kids’ homework and sent them to bed.  Tito is our early bird, so he tired before I could help him study for his science test, but we agreed to do so in the morning.  I know that neither child took a bath, and I’m not sure if either brushed their teeth.  There is always tomorrow.

When I tucked Tito into bed, the two boy cats were with him.  Normally, only the smaller of the two, Scamp, hangs out in his room, but his larger brother Scarf must have noticed something awry in the house. 

As I tucked Tito into bed, I asked him what I need to do in the morning, “Just make you some breakfast and pack your lunch, right?”  He assured me that was it. 

When I asked him what he would like for breakfast, he replied that eggs would be good.  “What kind?” I inquired, and then quickly realized that my limited skills in the kitchen could offer him a choice of either scrambled or raw (a la Rocky Balboa).  “Scrambled okay for you, buddy?  I inquired.  He said that sounded good, and I let him drift off to sleep.

After tucking Bitsy, I assumed my usual position on a recliner in front of the fire.  The cats must not have stayed long with Tito, as before long I heard a battle royal going on in the next room, with the two brothers presumably attacking the Dolly Mama.  Having become one with my chair, I waited out the storm and was relieved to see each of the three beasts walk past me over the next few minutes without dripping blood.

Knowing that I had to arise at some dastardly early hour, taking a nap after getting the kids off to school was a forgone conclusion.  Thus, I saw no problem with staying up writing until one in the morning.  When I finally made my way upstairs, I noticed that some of the cat barf was missing.  Knowing there was pretty much no chance my kids had cleaned it up, it dawned on me that one of the cats must have “cleaned” it up for me.  As Bill Cosby would say about men, “We are dumb, but we are not so dumb.”

Fifteen minutes later, after listening to the boy cats dash and crash all over our bedroom, presumably from neglect, I fell asleep on Kacey’s side of the bed.