Spoiled sport

Spoil sport. That is what I am. My birthday is this coming weekend and my husband is supposed to be off. Great, right? Well, I'll let you know. He wants to go camping, whoopee! I pictured two days that I could sleep in, some shopping, renting movies that I wanted to see. But he wanted to go camping a few weeks ago with a friend from work and I vetoed. We were to stay in their camper with them and their two kids. My argument was the rational one- a new born in a camper keeping everyone up all night would ruin everyone's time, and just like that I was off the hook.
This time we have been offered a motor home to use. No blaming sleepless nights forced on others to get me out of it. Why am I like this? I went camping all the time with my parents and loved every trip. My sister and I would beg to go, so why don't I want to give this experience to Turner? The answer is simple: Because I will be the only adult on the trip.
I already don't get enough sleep. Brad, Tate, and I crammed onto a queen bed that isn't ours doesn't sound like fun. Cleaning a whole motor home after using it only to come home and have to clean the whole house and put away all the camping crap doesn't sound like fun. I am neurotic, I don't want Turner out of my sight in the Utah or Idaho wilderness. I don't want Brad to take him in a canoe. I know Brad loves him and would never let anything happen to him- in my logical mind. My illogical mind knows that no one can protect my kids like I can. Water makes me nervous. I don't want Turner in or around water that he can't stand up in. I don't want him any where near anything with a current.
There's a pool. Which would be lovely if Tate was two and Turner was four. But Tate is seven weeks old. Too little to get in a pool, too young to be outside much at all. I will certainly not leave her to go enjoy the pool. There will also be Brad's co-worker's drunk wife. I'm sure in her normal life she's lovely. I have met her and been around her three times, but on all three occasions she was lit up like the fourth of July and her intoxicated IQ was that of a fence post.
I think Turner and Brad will have a good time. They'll fish, swim, ride four wheelers, and do all the fun things that one does on a camping trip. I will be couped up in a borrowed motor home trying to avoid Mrs Margarita Lolita all while not swimming, not fishing, and not riding four wheelers. No, I will be the one packing and unpacking the motor home, sweeping all our tracked in sand, washing the dishes, refereeing Brad and Turner, and trying to keep a hot sweaty baby from being too miserable. I'll be the "Mom". Mom is the cleaner of messes, the packer of trips, the bedtime enforcer, and the fight breaker-upper. Mom is pretty much the wet blanket that gets thrown over everyone's party. Unfortunately with out mom there would be no party, who would pack the balloons and make all the food?
Then there is the fight that I am sure will happen. Turner and Brad will both be sleep deprived and grumpy. Turner will misbehave and Brad will get irritated. Then when Turner won't eat supper or cooperate over something small, Brad will let me know what all I must be doing wrong with our son. I have learned that my husband and my son love each other very much and usually have the best time being around each other. I have also learned that they do well spending small amounts of time together. Brad works seven days a week. He has been having maybe one day off a month and a couple half days if we're lucky. He isn't around to know our routines. I try to let him handle the kids how he wants. But, when it's two days straight of no routine, anyone with a toddler knows that is a recipe for disaster. The reason my son is a good kid is due partially to the fact that he has a routine and a regular nap and sleep schedule. Those will all be blown to hell and he will be a little animal this weekend. Brad will invariably blame me. He just sees that I am the one who is with Turner twenty four seven, so if there is a problem it, by default, has to be my fault. This kills me and makes me resent my husband. I am a pretty good mom, or at least I think so. It would be nice to hear it from my husband but I have given up that hope, he's not one for compliments.
So for my birthday it looks like I am getting an unwanted camping trip. Maybe I will have fun. Maybe Brad and Turner will get along. Maybe I will get a little sleep and it won't be as bad as I am thinking it will be. I hope to go and have fun, let go of the tension from my neck and relax a little. But I know I am not one to relax. I hope to write how my expectations were proved wrong and fun was had by all. I guess I'll have to wait and see. Happy Birthday to me.


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