Mom for a week almost kills husband.

A couple of weeks ago, my wife went to visit her family in Arkansas. I stayed behind with my 9 year old son and 8 year old daughter.

My tasks were simple and laid out carefully by my wife. Take care of her babies and don't let anything happen to them.

Each day started with a bribe of doughnuts if we could get ready in time. The kids usually ride the bus each morning and were a little thrown off by their new chauffeur dad. By the end of the week the nice lady a Super America knew us by sight and the biology teacher, who stands guard in the drop off circle at school was wondering why we never brought him a doughnut (we actually did bring him one on Friday).

I would then race off to work from 10am-3pm (can't get much done in 5 hours) hoping continuously that I would not get a call from the school nurse and cut my already short work day shorter.

At 3pm, I ran home, set up my work laptop, and waited to get the kids off the bus. I would then ask the them what they wanted for dinner. Five of the seven nights the reply came "pizza". Of course I now have Pizza Hut on speed dial.

Each night ended with several chapters of "The Land of Elyon" book 2. We managed to read the entire book during my wife's absence. This was the highlight of each day as soft as this may sound, I really enjoyed reading and snuggling with kids.

We sprinkled in a few days of swim lessons, bowling, and trip to the mall for the arcade and carousel. Guess what the ate for lunch at the mall: PIZZA!

This whole 24/7 daddy thing took it's toll on me. Never getting enough work done, always worrying, and missing my wife. If you have read any of my other posts, you know I have been on a diet for about 6 months and have lost 50 lbs. By the time Sunday came, I totally caved on the diet. I ate 8 pieces of pizza and drank a 2 litter of Diet Coke. Wow did that comfort me.

And it really did comfort me until my wife told me her flight was delayed until the epoxy dried on the airplanes engine repair. At that point my stomach started hurting something awful. I actually had to stop twice on the way to airport to throw up.

After a couple of days, I ended up in the ER with a gall stone. 24 hours, three scars, and one gallbladder later I was laid up on the couch recovering.

I have no idea how my wife does it. A week of it almost killed me.