Smells like teen spirit

DH is on the road for about half of this week. That's unusal as for the last five years or so, we've spent perhaps less then a week, in total, apart. As all you who read this blog with any kind of regularity will note, I've been feeling a bit stressed out. His being away doesn't change the situation that much (or so I'd like to think. I *used* to be able to be a fully functional grown, single Mom for a number of years.)

I feel like when I got married, I got stupider. Stupider in that I've started to actually trust again, and rely on another individual to take on certain tasks and support the running of the household.

I'm starting to really realize how far I've relaxed with DH in my life. CU-4 took almost no naps today (I'm feeling it as I needed the nap) and I could have used the extra pair of hands so that I could sneak in a 15 minute power nap tonight. I could have also used the extra brain to help process laundry correctly. As is, my senses (five plus one) were working overtime saying "Don't do it. Don't do it. "

Let me bck up a bit. CU-3 was having a difficult diaper free day. She had had several accidents at school, so there was laundry to do. I managed to sneak to the cave to run laundry before she noticed my momentary disappearance. (Who says parenting isn't magical).

A friend stopped by, so I borrowed her superpowers of watching children to run downstairs to switch the laundry around. My sense of smell said there was something wrong. The laundry didn't have the proper fresh laundry smell. I thought the laundry just needed a tumble in the dryer and all would be better. So I put it to the dryer and squeezed through another load of laundry into the washer.

A couple of hours later, when the house was quieter and lunches were prepared, I crept downstairs to get the fresh laundry out of the dryer. The improper smell was still there. So I shrugged and thought I'd better rerun that load. I did the wet versus dry laundry square dance, with laundry trading places. As I did so, there was a super clean turd that fell out of the laundry.

Squick.

Oh the stories of motherhood. Give me a couple of years and I'll actually own up to the story.