So today it was my turn to take a hit for the team.
Last Christmas the Lovely Rhonda ™ bought tickets for her spawn and herself and her mother to go to a Disney show of some kind, while I got tickets to Walking With Dinosaurs for myself and the redheaded stepchild. Grandma couldn’t go so Elder Spawn got her ticket, meaning that Rhonda got to herd three recalcitrant children (ages at the time 5, 4, and 2) through a large stadium.
Well, what goes around comes around. Disney on Ice was coming, and (because I am evidently masochistic at heart) when I saw a flyer at the grocery store for a “family four-pack” of tickets for cheap, I dutifully brought it home. Great, says Rhonda. You guys have fun with that.
So today she dropped us off at the stadium and took her library book to the coffee shop for a blissful quiet child-free couple of hours.
Now, I’m not saying that she is not deserving of the pampering. After all, my new schedule means that I have every other Sunday (and half of Saturday, it must be confessed) completely alone, devoid of hangers-on, free to sit around in my underwear eating Hot Pockets and swilling Mt. Dew while I game the day away affording me plenty of time to catch up on the housework and such. So it seemed only fair to allow her to sleep late in the apparently well-insulated (read: nearly soundproof) new bedroom and then let her skip off to enjoy herself while I sweatily goaded giddy, overstimulated children through frenetic crowds of souvenir-wielding tots.
Yes, it seemed fair. Even if felt so grossly UNfair. Grumble grumble.
And then the lights went down, and the colored spotlights came on, and hideously be-costumed ice skaters flitted out into the center of the rink to lip-sync badly to a canned soundtrack, and the children were transfixed. And before I knew it the show was over and we were on our way home. And they had fun, and it wasn’t horrible.
But tomorrow I am SO sleeping in.